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Chapter Text

Centuries of life was beyond Byleth’s understanding. She knew of her blood and the crest that resided within it. The Crest of Flames. The destructor and the saviour. It was powerful and allowed for her to wield the Sword of the Creator. The sword was sheathed at her side, tucked within her white robes, among her golden belts and cold against the skin of her thigh, her stockings providing no insulation from the metal. Byleth sighed, the ancient tome clutched in her hands as she glanced around the quarters that were now her own, high up within the church, on the third floor. She moved to look out of the great, arching windows, and could see far and wide, the moat around the church and beyond into the surrounding villages that were tucked into the valleys. The stone was cold, just like her own heart, though her teaching here had brought great many emotions, and with them, warmth, into her soul. Byleth pressed a warm hand to the glass and watched it fog around the outline of her fingers and palm.

Her appointment ceremony, or coronation, she supposed, was this morning. She’d already had Mercedes up in her chambers, fussing and helping pin her robes into place. Her hair was intricately weaved backwards in plaits and a golden crown was placed within her mint coloured hair. The white flowers Lady Rhea had once worn were weaved into the plaits and around the crown. Her white robes hung around her wrists, the sleeves long, a shoulder guard over each of her shoulders, glittering bright and silver as she turned and looked down at the skirts around her legs, the top cut high, cascading back into a short train behind her. Taking a breath, Byleth looked at herself in the mirror again, admiring Mercedes’ masterful beauty skills and sewing abilities. She felt at ease thinking on her students as she walked to the door, her boots clicking as she looked at the heavy, old wood.

She gasped as a loud knock sounded on the wood.

“Your holiness?” It was Mercedes’ gentle voice that rang through the wood.

“You may come in, Mercedes.” Byleth sighed and stepped away from the door, sitting on the edge of her bed, making sure to scoop the masses of white fabric from under her as the ashen blond entered.

“Oh dear…” Mercedes’ face crinkled with concern, “Are you alright, Byleth?” She was quick to move into the room, her headdress floating behind her before she crouched before the unifier of Fodlan.

Byleth took a deep breath, green eyes averted before she spoke, “I’m nervous. Everyone will be staring…and I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

Mercedes’ tinkling laugh rang out before she reached forwards and hugged their former professor, “You worry too much! It’s not good for you! You’ll have wrinkles before you know it.” She giggled before patting Byleth’s thighs and standing, moving over to collect her trolley from the door.

On it sat a pot of tea, teacups and saucers, along with the last few touches for Byleth’s ceremonial robes. There was a great sash of soft green fabric.

“Come on. Don’t look so upset, Professor! Here. This tea is Chalomile. It will help settle your nerves.” Mercedes smiled sweetly before pouring Byleth a cup of the tea.

Byleth huffed softly as she accepted the teacup, “I told you to just call me, Byleth. I don’t care for titles, Mercedes.” She smiled around the rim of the teacup before taking a sip and sighing, trying to relax and let go of her nerves.

“You will always be our professor. It’s hard to shake.” Mercedes confessed as she took the great sash of fabric and had Byleth stand, her pins held in her mouth as she draped the fabric over Byleth’s shoulder and pinned it, styling the trail with more flowers and a ribbon of gold as she sung a soft song.

It wasn’t much later that a second knock came to the door. Mercedes answered it, placing down the soft bristle brush she was using to comb Byleth’s unruly hair back into position for the ceremony. A familiar face stepped into the room. Seteth took a breath as he stepped through the door, eyes looking over the layers of fine fabrics and silks over Byleth’s form. He looked over her form quickly, and Byleth wouldn’t have noticed it had she not been looking at him. He was in his usual attire. His cloak billowed softly behind him as he bowed to Byleth.

“Your grace, they are ready for you. The ceremony will begin shortly.” Seteth’s green eyes were warm as he looked at Byleth and Mercedes. The warmth was quickly hidden as Byleth stood and nodded, breathing deeply to steady herself.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I think.” Byleth muttered softly as she moved to the door, Mercedes making sure the green sash silk didn’t drag on the floor. Seteth followed the two of them down the stairs, his eyes lingering on the fine silk sash, wondering if there was meaning to the beautiful green colour.

The ceremony was beneath the restored visage of the Goddess, her hands held together in peaceful harmony as she observed the followers within the church. Byleth felt her heart stop as she moved through the door. The mass had arrived. The entire church was full of unfamiliar faces as she walked along the aisle, the choir singing bright and softly off to the side. The nobles were towards the front of the church and she was surprised to see both Dimitri and Claude perched in the pews, their retainers close at hand. She bowed her head as she passed them by, white flowers trailing in her wake from the young flower girls. It was almost like a marriage. Both Lords dipped their heads, looking at the floor before smiling fondly at their professor. Dimitri’s face was soft, gazing at Byleth as she walked to the altar, the statue looking down at her. As the choir quietened, Byleth ducked to kneel, her white robes spread behind her as she drew her scabbard from her belt and laid it before the Goddess. After a deep breath, Byleth laid her hands on the base and cleared her throat softly, speaking the prayer she had been rehearsing for days as she withdrew her hands.

The crowd silenced as Byleth spoke softly, hands clasped together tightly over the Sword of The Creator, the blade glowing as the words rang throughout the Cathedral. The words floated through the air and Byleth closed her eyes as she felt harmony still over the mass.

“May She guide my hand and deliver righteous judgement to those who seek to do harm.” Byleth finished quietly before opening her eyes, gazing at the visage of their God before climbing to her feet, white flowers scattering as her cloak moved over the stone. Silence. No one dared to breath as she turned to face them.

“The Goddess has chosen me to lead you all, and under her gaze I will protect and love those faithful to this church.” Byleth looked at the crowd, looking at the faithful and faithless, knowing that they expected the world of her in this moment.

Dimitri’s low timbre broke the silence, “Our knew Archbishop! Archbishop Byleth!” He hollered into the church. The crowd roared after the words, the open doors carrying the cries of the crowd that had gathered on the moat. They were joyous and Byleth smiled, a small and soft smile, holding her sword close as she looked at her students’ faces and the faces of the common folk. Smiles. There were smiles all around as they cheered, chanting her name as a war hero and their religious leader. Byleth took a step away from the altar and watched the flower girls run forwards, pulling her down to tuck flowers crowns of all sorts around her neck, shoulders and head. Byleth chuckled as she stood again, her sword fastened to her side as she took the girls’ hands and led them down the aisle, handing them back to their parents before she walked to the mass outside, waving by the doors.

She felt a hand on her shoulder as a set of knights moved in, boxing her in as she stood at the top of the stairs. Byleth looked up at the man that had grabbed her shoulder.

“You need your personal guard, Your Grace.” Seteth spoke into her ear with a soft smile, almost as though he was proud of her, “I will follow as well at a distance.” He ducked backwards with a small bow and Byleth watched him leave with a mixture of feelings churning in her gut.

She wished to tell him about these new feelings she had. Her heart didn’t beat, but she felt her cheeks go strangely warm as he left. Her guard clicked their heels, boxed around her.

“Hey there!” Byleth smiled softly at Catherine, the sword master giving her a salute as she organised the guards and took up position in front.

“Thank you, Catherine.” Byleth muttered as they started their parade down the moat, waving softly as she went, her eyes drinking in the unfamiliar faces and happy expressions. No one had been that happy since the war, and Byleth hoped to keep their happiness ongoing.

Byleth was exhausted when she was dropped back at her third-floor chambers. Mercedes laughed softly at her pain before moving to let her rest, taking her heavy robes that required washing out of her way. Restless as always, Byleth’s thoughts wouldn’t clear, and she stared at the windows before standing, the green silk still clinging to her form as she descended the stairs, intending to go into the Goddess Tower and clear her thoughts.

The tower was silent. Byleth took a deep breath and looked at the old stone, touching her fingers to the walls, feeling the age of the tower seep into her bones. With a sigh, Byleth scooped back her hair, fingers trailing over the points of her ears. They hadn’t been that way until Sothis and her had fused, and now they reflected her true heritage. The dragon’s blood ran through her veins. Pouting softly, she looked at the ancient paintings, admiring the visage of a particular saint as she pondered.

“Byleth.” A soothing voice echoed softly against the stone.

Byleth’s fingers paused in their exploration before she turned to face the man that had called for her. Seteth walked towards her, his cape swooping from side to side as he made his way over to her. He coughed when he caught what she was admiring, her fingers tracing the edges of bright silver armour. Byleth caught herself, pulling her fingers away from the image.

“Seteth, what can I do for you?” She smiled, her voice soft and dull.

“Ah. It is…” He took a steadying breath before standing by her side, green eyes looking at the painting, gazing at the saint in the shining armour with a sad smile, wrinkles between his eyebrows the only sign of his age, “I was worried that you were stressed. Today was no small feat, especially after the distaste those that lost loved ones have shown you.” His hand twitched by his side before he tucked them both away, firmly, at the base of his back, formal and stiff in a matter of moments.

Byleth knew what he was speaking of. There were many that did not believe her to be a hero, and many more that hated her for losing their family members. There was no avoiding loss in war, and that was inherently clear to her. She had tried to hold that dear, but the days’ stresses were suddenly on her shoulders again, thinking of the men and women her war against the Empire had lost the nation.

“I remember…Their views aren’t wrong. I lost many soldiers for victory. They have a right to be upset.” She swallowed, avoiding the wise gaze of Seteth, instead gazing at the man in the painting once more, “…I’m not worthy to be their archbishop. I know that. But,” She pressed her fingers to the armour again, “I want to try to be…I want to try and fix the damage the war has caused. Happiness…I want to see that everywhere.” Byleth muttered before looking to Seteth.

He was smiling. It was a warm and youthful smile. Seteth let out a weary sigh before taking Byleth’s hands, holding them within his own. He was warm, his hands burning in her own as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You were chosen for this, I know, but you must have some faith in yourself, Byleth. You will be an archbishop like no one has ever seen. Rhea was right to leave you the title, just as she was right to insist on many things.” His words faltered for a moment before he squeezed her hands, eyes darting to the painting as though he was deciding something. Green eyes returned to her before he spoke, “Do you know of Saint Cichol…He is the one in this painting.” Seteth placed his hand over the visage before chuckling, “I fear you may have worked it out. But he and I are one in the same.”

Byleth felt something stir within her, “You made me suspicious…claiming us to be family. Are you going to tell me you are my uncle or something of the sort.”

Seteth scoffed, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, “Goddess, no!” He was flustered and took a moment to try and cool his face before continuing, “We have the same blood as in we are of the same…Race, I suppose, but we are not related, Byleth.” There was a hesitation before he said her name again, but he held true, looking her in the eyes before daring to lift his hand to her face.

“Seteth…I have…” Byleth looked at him, chewing her lip as he moved her hair from her ears. She hadn’t shown anyone the points, but Seteth only smiled, easing his own hair away from his ears, showing her the pointed tips.

“I have something to ask of you, Byleth. You know of my true name and age, but I do not think you know of the feelings that I harbour for you. I made a vow to Rhea that day and now I think that it is time to renew it.” Seteth took her hands again, pulling the Archbishop closer before he continued.

“For whatever centuries may yet be ours, I will always remain by your side. That is why, I hope you will accept this.”  His hands dipped into a pocket before producing a platinum ring, the emerald within the metal deep and rich green like the man’s eyes before her. Byleth’s mouth opened in shock before she let him continue, looking at his face once more. Seteth grew embarrassed as she gazed at the ring and back to him, “I will just come out with it.” His face was red, “I love you, deeply. Will you marry me?” Suddenly it clicked into place. Her intense feelings of belonging and longing for the man before her, and the tight coil of nervousness in her gut. She wanted to be with the man before her.

Seteth continued on, “Since I have already tied my fate to yours, I could not help but imagine how lovely it would be to exchange wedding vows with you.” He muttered, his other hand rubbing the skin of her knuckles, the ring held in his hand, poised to place it on her finger should she only accept his advances, “But there is one thing I wish for you to understand. I am not proposing to you out of a sense of duty, nor a desire to perpetuate our bloodline. I want this because I am in love with you.”

Byleth nodded, her response muted in awe of what she was hearing, holding his hands tightly as he poured his aged heart out to her, “I cannot conceive a world or my life without you in it.” He confessed, looking into her eyes, the ring a question between their torsos, “If you feel the same…Will you do me the honour of joining your life with mine?”

The ring was poised before her and Byleth took her hands. Seteth faltered, his hands shaking before he took the ring back a little.

“No!” She grabbed his hand before reaching into the inside pocket of her great coat. She drew out the silver band. Her father had left it for her to give to the one she loved the most. There was no doubt in her mind now that this person was Seteth. His eyes widened at the ring set with blue crystals.

“You…You feel the same?” A smile curled his lips upwards, his joy breaking through his strict exterior.

“I do. I have for some time. Deep in my heart, I feel as though I have for centuries. It is a strange feeling. Even now, it feels as though I have found an extension of myself…A part I never knew I needed so badly.” Byleth grasped his hand and placed the ring on Seteth’s finger first, smiling with glee at the band before the Saint chuckled, pushing the green ring onto her own. He joined their banded hands together with a smile, locking their fingers before he pushed her hair aside, gazing into Byleth’s face with reverence.

“I love you, Byleth. I will never be parted from you, my dearest. For all our long centuries, I will be with you.” He laid his forehead against her own, and Byleth watched in wonder as his eyes glowed, a soft light appearing in his forehead, the crest of Cichol shinning bright in his skin.

It was as though something had fitted back into place within the man. Her fingers traced his face, cupping his chin softly before she leaned up to kiss him. Seteth stooped a little to meet her, sighing as their lips met in a chaste kiss, just a soft press of lips to each other. Byleth enjoyed the pressure, pushing for another before she looked into his eyes, palms spread over the generous swell of his chest, “I love you, Seteth. I love you enough to feel as though my heart is restored. If I had one, it would be yours.” She whispered before kissing him again, breathing over the man’s cheek before Seteth cupped her cheek and deepened the kiss, his mouth opening softly. She jumped when a graze of sharp teeth went over the skin of her lips.

“I apologize…I just…Cannot seem to get enough of you. Forgive me?” Seteth kissed her softly before admiring the redness and swelling of her lips from the bite.

“Don’t apologise…” Byleth leaned up and snatched another kiss, Seteth making a muffled noise before he felt her tongue against his lips.

Their tongues met as Byleth pushed forwards, Seteth’s back meeting the wall before he gripped her cheeks and pulled away, “That is enough for now, my love. Not here…and not now.” There was a silent promise behind the words and Byleth felt a heat coil deep within her gut.

She wanted him to love her in every way.

“Then when, my love?” She asked of him, breathless from the wet intensity of their kisses, the feeling in her gut tight and demanding.

“It is improper to do such things before the wedding night-“ He was cut off by another kiss and Byleth’s mouth next to his ear, breathing hot air onto the sensitive tip.

“We have pledged ourselves to each other…I don’t want a marriage like that Seteth. I don’t want a spectacle for the nation to see. We love each other…” She felt embarrassed to admit the next part, “But now I know you are mine I feel like something had slotted into place. I want you close and in every way.” She admitted before kissing his cheek, her fingers spreading over his pectorals, looking at the fine, golden embroidery of his tunic.

Seteth chuckled, softly, before lifting her head, “Not here then. Come.” He moved away and tucked her arm through his own, escorting her to the staircase before leading the way, “Your quarters will be much more acceptable for such…” He blushed a little, still prudish despite his experience with such things, “Intimate activities.”

Byleth chuckled behind him, the sound soft and light as she followed him to her bed chambers, the ache in her chest full of love, bright and warm.

Seteth was a gentleman as he pressed her against the bed, his grip easily broken should she grow uncomfortable.

“Tell me if I am going too far.” He muttered against her lips before he kissed her, hot and passionate, twisting his head to the side before pressing his tongue into her mouth, mapping the inside with gentle prods before sliding their tongues together. Byleth felt her cheeks heat up before she breathed a little deeper, sighing into the kiss, her arms wrapping around Seteth’s back, hands spreading over his muscles, enjoying their firmness beneath his robes.

Byleth pulled away from the kisses, tucking Seteth’s hair back behind his pointed ears, “Strip, my dragon.” She whispered, watching Seteth’s green eyes widened before a grumble rolled through his chest. Her own eyes widened at the noise before she was enraptured, watching the man undo his belt and cape clasps. His tunic went loose before he pulled it over his head, circlet placed on her dresser, his boots by the door. His trousers were slim fitting over his battle-hardened muscles and Byleth traced the curves of his body, admiring his scars and green body hair before the man sighed and removed his trousers, clad in only his undergarments before her.

Heat flushed through her in a wave before she managed to form any words, “You are so handsome.”

Seteth hummed, his hands planted in the sheets over her before he twirled a strand of her hair and kissed her once more, “Shall we get your clothes off as well?” He asked gently, fingers teasing her waistband. Byleth nodded wordlessly and watched him pushed her coat off and set it in her armchair, returning to dip his fingers under her shorts, rough fingertips grazing above her mound. Her shorts came off and the stockings followed before Seteth eased her top off, admiring her breasts before he tugged away the short corset support. Her nipples hardened under his gaze and Seteth leaned over to blow a cool breath over one, his tongue dipping out to lap at the bud. He hummed around her nipple and Byleth squirmed, fingers tugging his green hair as his hand moved to squeeze her other, massaging it.

Seteth pulled away with a hum, “You are quiet, my love. What would you like me to do?” He leaned over Byleth and snatched a wet kiss before listening to her.

Byleth’s brain supplied a singular thought.

“Please, my love, please eat me out.” She let out a soft moan when Seteth pinched her thigh.

Seteth’s green eyes widened before he kissed her thoroughly, tongue dipping into her mouth before he pulled away and kissed down her stomach, warm hands cupping her thighs before spreading them wide, giving him room to work with.

“Of course, my love.” Seteth swiped a finger over her mound and last her lips before finding her bud, her clitoris pulsing with arousal. Byleth’s thighs snapped at Seteth’s shoulders with the stimulation before Seteth quietened her softly and kissed her nether region, his lips parting to let his tongue swipe through her, poking at her entrance softly before his fingers trailed down and dipped inside of her, one stroking along her walls before a second prodded inside and stretched her open. Seteth scissored his fingers, drinking her muffled moans in with bright green eyes, focused on his task as he sucked on her clitoris.

“Ah!” Byleth squirmed against the sheets, her hands gripping Seteth’s hair, “I’m close..Ah! Seteth!” She gripped his hair and bucked her hips, enjoying the feeling of him too much before she felt her walls pulse and flutter.

What she didn’t expect was for Seteth to suddenly fill her more.

“Ah!” She hollered as his hot length slipped inside of her, the wet noise lewd and loud, “Seteth…Its too much.” A hot tear dripped over her cheek as over stimulation hit her, making her arch off the bed and look into Seteth’s eyes. He held still kissing her face over and over again, his green body hair rubbing against her in all the right ways.

“You’re all right, Byleth.” He promised, waiting for her to finish cumming before he moved his hips, dick slipping out of her before he pushed back inside slowly, her walls deliciously tight around her, yet accepting from his ministrations.

“Please…Please Seteth…” She didn’t know what she was asking for, but she moaned as he bucked his hips in a steady rhythm, the slight upwards curve to his dick making her squirm. He was well endowed, his length kissing her cervix when he was pushed all the way in.

“Of course, my love.” Seteth grumbled again and Byleth moaned when fangs grazed over her pointed ears again.

“I need all of you…everything…inside of me.” She whined and kissed him, her body jolting as Seteth’s thrusts increased in speed.

Seteth moaned when she came, her walls fluttering around him once more, squeezing him tight. He clutched her body close, kissing and licking at her tits as he came inside of her, his hot seed warm against his dick as he caught his breath. He remembered rolling off her before Byleth cuddled into his side and the sleepy whisper of “I love you”.

The two of them awoke the next morning aching. Byleth groaned when she opened her eyes, head pressed into something warm and cushioned, a tight arm wrapped around her waist. Her green eyes fluttered open to be met with skin and green chest hair. Byleth opened her mouth and looked up before seeing Seteth, face soft and hair crumpled into her pillows, in a wide halo around his head. He looked at peace for once and Byleth looked at the drool on his chest with embarrassment before nuzzling back into the Saint’s warm skin.

Her chest ached but no heart beat in her chest. Despite that…She was sure that she loved him, and that he loved her. She smiled and closed her eyes. They had centuries to show it to one another.

Chapter Text

Waking up to see Seteth curled in her bed made Byleth’s face warm. Her heart couldn’t stutter but she felt embarrassed when she looked at the dried drool over his chest. She had managed to sleep on him and drool. Byleth rubbed at her mouth and grumbled softly, nuzzling her face into his chest in enjoyment. His pectorals were soft and warm, the hair over them making her cheek itch a little, but she was loath to move from him, his warmth soothing her back into a sleepy state. Seteth’s arm was wrapped tightly around her anyway, keeping her close to his side and Byleth rested her hands on his torso, fingers rubbed against his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle and trail of hair that led downwards. She didn’t dare touch him any lower and she was right not to. As soon as her fingers tickled the bottom of his stomach, Seteth groaned and opened his eyes, mouth opening to yawn before he snatched her hand away from their destination.

“Good morning to you too.” He grouched before smirking, one side of his lips lifting upwards. He was teasing her, yet Byleth couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed by it. She had never seen Seteth appear so carefree and relaxed. He had never teased her in such a way.

“Good morning, my love.” She muttered, pouting against his chest as she wrapped her arms back around him and pinned him in her grip. Byleth knew he wouldn’t and couldn’t stay for long in her chambers. Her fingers traced circles at the top of his tummy as she just laid, taking in the morning and Seteth.

“Are you well? I did not hurt you, did I?” Seteth asked before he cupped her face, easing Byleth up to the pillows so he could look at her face. The sheets shifted as he rolled over her, pulling the silk away to look at her body. His eyes quickly spotted the small finger shaped bruises over her hips.

“Don’t give me such a concerned look.” Byleth smiled, cool fingers pushing his green hair away from his cheeks. She ran them backwards and over the lengths of his ears, watching the older man over her dissolve into a withering look.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but I forget myself in such situations…and I despise seeing you hurt.” Seteth lamented before Byleth leaned up to kiss him. It was soft and gentle, silencing his rambling before it could truly begin.

“Don’t apologise. I enjoyed it.” She tugged him down and pressed their foreheads together, hands wrapped around the back of Seteth’s neck, “I love you, Seteth. Nothing can describe how happy you make me. I feel complete knowing that we are each other’s.” Byleth watched him grit his teeth, tempted to bark at her how she was brushing things aside, but his face soon melted with a sigh, and the Saint laid back down, kissing her forehead before simply holding her, arms wrapped around her waist.

“I love you, Byleth. I feel much the same…like my heart is whole once more. I have not felt such happiness in centuries.” His rough fingers moved to trail over her cheeks, “Come. You need to be cleaned up before you can go face the day…I fear you are covered in…Yes…”

Byleth laughed at his prudeness, “My thighs are covered in your cum.” She stated with cold eyes, stoic nature slipping through.

Red painted Seteth’s cheeks before he coughed, “Yes, and it is most inappropriate to go around your day still stinking of sex.” He snapped at her before fighting to get her out of the bed.

Byleth squirmed in his arms, feeling naked skin against her own. She smiled up at him as he carried her bridal style from the sheets, the silk dripping over her body in a cascade of fine red. Seteth could control himself. He wasn’t a young man, like many of her students were. One too many times he had seen Sylvain eyeing the Professor with a hot hunger.

“Maybe I want to smell like you.” Byleth added, kissing Seteth’s chin before nuzzling against the coarse green hair of his small beard.

Seteth felt his dick twitch between his legs at the idea of Byleth dripping with cum and smelling like him as she attended to her duties, “Don’t be so improper, dear.” He gave her a dangerous look, green eyes stern as he moved into her private bathroom. The tub would take some time to heat, but the supply was straight from the hot springs on the Monastery’s grounds. He held Byleth with one arm, muscles straining a little as he shouldered her own muscled weight and turned the taps to the bath. Hot water rushed into the basin with a hissing noise and Seteth hummed softly as he placed Byleth down on the stool, wandering around to try and decipher what oils they had left for the Archbishop to use.

Byleth sighed as she watched him move, admiring the roundness of his backside and his back before the man turned back around, messing green hair flying around his head as he peered into the basin and added something that smelt of lavender. He caught her staring and shot Byleth a soft smile.

“Come. You need to get in it while its hot.” Seteth was quickly by her side again, picking her up and placing her into the hot water as it continued to fill. Byleth felt the stickiness between her legs ease, muscles relaxing as well as she leaned back, breasts obscured as the water filled over her chest. Seteth sat on the edge, merely observing Byleth’s eyes close and hair float. She was quick to open her eyes.

“Join me?” She held out a wet hand and Seteth tilted his head, “You need to get clean as well, my love.”

He sighed wearily before stepping into the water behind Byleth. She made room for his body and giggled, pressing herself against his chest, sighing in bliss at their closeness.

“Are you satisfied now, my love?” Seteth asked, brushing her wet hair back over her shoulder so he could press a cool kiss to her hot skin.

“Hmm.” Byleth hummed, hands reaching back to tangle in Seteth’s hair, “I want you to play with me.” She hummed again when she felt Seteth’s fingers slide over the bottom of her stomach.

“Now that is not how you get clean.” Seteth muttered, but dipped his fingers lower, running his hands over Byleth’s thighs, rubbing away the dried cum before one hand pressed between his legs, fingers pressing upwards to curl against her clitoris, “If you promise to get properly cleaned up after…” He trailed off, listening to Byleth moan before she had sense enough to twist and sit in his lap, hips held high enough for him to slip his hand against her once more. Byleth kissed his lips weakly, thighs shaking as his fingers plunged inside of her, feeling the stretch of her walls as he curled them against her front wall, watching her face blush, arms wrapped around his neck.

He knew why she was so needy, even if she didn’t. Perhaps their blood was the cause, but his wife had been much the same, wanting everything and more in a natural flow of rushing motherhood. A child wasn’t something they could consider yet, but he wasn’t opposed to seeing her round with child. The idea made his dick twitch softly under her as his fingers thrust in and out of her.

Seteth pulled his fingers out of Byleth and kissed her to silence her whines, “I want you to ride me, my dear.” His voice made her shiver, cold water now dripping down her hair as she flushed, his lap obscured beneath her. She had taken charge, sure, there were men on their mercenary travels that had liked her leading them when she managed to sneak away from her father’s gaze. Seteth was different and intimidating. He meant something to her. Nevertheless, she reached a hand down towards his lap and clumsily took hold of his cock, running her hand up the soft skin of the shaft before her fingers rubbed over the head, easing back his foreskin before she shifted, the water slapping as she took a breath and lowered herself enough to press the head to her entrance. Seteth grunted as she slid down slowly, taking the length of him inside of her in one slow slide. Holding her hips, Seteth gently led her pace, ensuring she could move in the water.

“I love you, Seteth.” Byleth moaned as her walls clamped down around him.

“I love you too, Byleth.” He replied, panting against her shoulder as they came together.

Their days after that were hushed and secretive. Seteth was sometimes busier than Byleth herself, sorting and organising the Knights of Seiros along side her own meetings and duties. He was a man seeped in stress and coiled tight most days. Sometimes she had to drag him out of his office herself. Other times the thought backfired, and he dragged her away from her own duties. Often, he came into her chambers, finding her asleep at her desk. Seteth always made sure to undress and tuck her into bed before joining her, hot skin pressed against her own cold, heartless body. She was happiest then, waking up to her green haired guardian pressed against her, his arms wrapped around her protectively. They’d announced their marriage and been met with interest but nothing extravagant. To her subjects she simply explained it as having been married before the war was over. She wasn’t lying, but it ensured she didn’t have to face a large celebratory event.

Byleth sighed as she looked at the ring on her finger, the ancient green emerald sparkling softly in the light that managed to come through the trees. Her and Seteth were out in the woods, her personal guard scouting as they waited for another carriage. They’d sent a rider out, Byleth’s carriage having broken. One of the horses was dead, the beam snapping and causing the creature to buckle, spine broken beneath the weight. They were left his one heavy duty horse and no where to go. She had offered to simply get on the large Shire, the black horse strong enough to carry both her and the driver along to their destination, but it left their luggage behind. Seteth had simply despatched the fastest steed and it’s knight to go and fetch a new carriage. It meant they would have to wait perhaps half a day. Byleth sighed and stood up, Seteth looking over from his Wyvern. The female Wyvern was as old as her master, but a brat. She was like an overprotective hound and grumbled before stomping over to Byleth, flapping her great old wings like a demanding child.

“Hello, Elm.” Byleth whispered, leaning over to lay a kiss on the mount’s scaly nose, grabbing at her decorated headdress with a smile. The Wyvern’s bright orange eyes closed as she purred, feeling Byleth’s fingers rub under her chin, slitted pupils opening again as her tongue lapped at Byleth’s palms.

“Elm.” Seteth’s voice rang out before he sighed and went to collect his Wyvern, hands making the draconic descendant grumble. She grumbled again and looked at Seteth before standing over Byleth, tucking the woman under her soft underbelly, armoured neck catching in Byleth’s crown and hair, “Stop that this instant!” Seteth commanded, watching as his Wyvern ignored him and laid down, wings closing around Byleth to keep her close. She loved Byleth more than him he thought sometimes.

“It’s alright, my love.” Byleth sat down, caged either side by warm membrane wings, “Its nice. She’s like a sun blocker.” Byleth ran her hand along the underside of the Wyvern’s neck and leaned back against the armour panel around her neck.

“She should still listen to me rather than you.” He sighed but moved to stand nearby, looking at the small pool in the clearing.

“Thinking about fishing, my love?” Byleth teased gently from beneath Elm’s great body.

Seteth ignored her, walking towards the water with a breath, “I feel as though I have been here before…perhaps when I wasn’t this man.” He wasn’t paying attention, and instead, stepped into the water, feet soaking in the water as he breathed. Byleth stood out from under his Wyvern, watching the saint move deeper into the water. She gasped when she saw his hands. The symbol of Cichol burned in the backs of his hands as he stood in the water, looking at the flow of it as he stood there.

“I…there is something calling…like a song…” Elm’s head twitched as the man hummed softly, “You are the oceans grey waves…Destined to seek life beyond the shore…” He sang ever so gently, fingers rippling within the water. Elm’s eyes rolled in her head as her eyes fluttered shut, collapsing into the grass. Byleth felt her own body grow sluggish, the song vibrating in her bones, making her blood run slow in her veins.

“Seteth…My love…” The humming stopped and instead the man jolted, looking over at his wife. She was on her knees, looking at him with wide eyes as he shook in the water, suddenly cold within the depths.

“Goddess…What happened?” Seteth wobbled over to the edge of the pool, soaked from his waist down as he quickly moved to get Byleth back on her feet. Elm was still asleep behind her and Byleth laughed softly as she sat back on her bottom.

“I don’t know but you have a beautiful singing voice, my love.” She kissed his cheek and slapped his wet clothing, “You need to dry off a little.” Her hands reached for his own, and the woman looked at the backs of his hands, the mark gone now from his skin. It wasn’t unlike the day she had confessed to him, the crest glowing within the Saint’s forehead.

“I…” He looked back at the lake, “I have been here before.” He pressed a hand into the grass, “When Flayn was a child. We…We sung by this lake. We sung that song.” Byleth reached forwards and took his hand in her own, smiling gently as he turned to look at her. He was troubled, his eyebrows furrowed and wrinkles set in his face. For once, he didn’t appear youthful.

Byleth said nothing for a moment, their hands wound together tight, before she pulled him into her, wet clothes be damned. The woman huffed into his neck, feeling her throat go tight as she held the man she loved close, rubbing her nose into his neck before she spoke.

“I know you miss her, Seteth…and I know I will never replace her but I’m here for you.” Byleth said into his neck, her voice soft. She felt his chest shake before a wet tear slid down her cheek.

Seteth sniffled softly before he pulled away, smiling down at Byleth, his hands cupping her cheeks, cold from the water, “You are more than enough, my love. Do not compare yourself to her. You are you, Byleth. Perhaps deep inside I harbour something for her, but I love you, and you alone. I wont ever leave you…not for a ghost.” He kissed her lips softly, his eyes glowing softly with a magical light.

Byleth gasped softly before cupping his cheeks, “Its there again… Your crest. Your eyes… You keep glowing.” She traced her fingers over his cheek bones.

“Glowing?” He tilted his head before thinking, “I…Perhaps I am finally healing… It matters not. Everything that I gain, every ability and power, I will use to protect you.” He placed his hand over Byleth’s heart, or where it would have been and smiled before kissing her once more.

Their soft moment of intimacy was broken when Seteth’s Wyvern awoke from her brief slumber, chirping in confusion before flapping and plonking her head between them both, purring softly. Her antlers rubbed against Byleth’s tummy and she laughed before scratching the Wyvern’s head gently, right between the horns. The creature grumbled contently before Seteth frowned, peering into the trees.

“Elm…” He muttered before an arrow whizzed into his sights. The saint watched it fly before reaching his hand out, snatching the arrow out of the air, his crest flaring to life under his skin once more as he felt something ripple beneath his skin. His Wyvern roared, fangs dripping with saliva before she hunched over Byleth protectively, her master curling his fingers around his lance in the grass. The lance of Assal was by his side quickly, and the Saint watched the assassins crawl out of the trees, hunched low, bows and swords clutched close.

“Archbishop…please stay back.”

Instead of doing as he asked, Byleth drew he sword, “You intend to kill me? You will pay for that mistake!” She roared, the Sword of the Creator firing into the clearing. She twisted gracefully, her hair whipping around her head as she cut down four of them, teeth clenched and eyes bright with the Crest of Flames.

“Byleth! Get down!” Seteth threw her to the ground as arrows rained into the clearing. She felt Seteth grunt above her, his back arching as he was hit with a few of them. Byleth’s eyes widened as she gazed at the man over her.

“Seteth!” She fumbled for her sword, crown flying free as she grasped it and flicked the blade, hitting another assassin in the chest with the extension of the blade. It locked back into place and she felt hot tears drip over her cheeks before she grasped Seteth’s face. He cringed before smiling, his arms flexing, nails curling into the dirt over Byleth’s head.

“Duck, my love.” He whispered as his eyes burst into slits.

Byleth scrambled for cover when wings burst from his back, the bones creaking as bright, beautiful white scales covered his cheeks. A guttural roar sounded as Seteth’s form disappeared, green light surrounding him as he burst into giant draconic form, horns a dark woody colour and green, slitted pupils blinking before he shook himself. A growth covered his eyes before he roared into the clearing, rearing up above the trees before launching himself forwards, claws shredding a few of the assassin group, sending blood and guts spurting over the grass. More arrows lodged themselves into his hide, others pinging off the hard scale plates of his back. He roared before a ball of green light fired into the trees, smoke curling from Seteth’s jaws as he let out a volley, the assassins creeching and rolling for cover before he was after them, eyes glowing behind the curl of his horns, arrows littering his underbelly. He screeched as a sword slammed against his soft belly scales before tearing the man apart, sending his head over himself and into the lake. Byleth rushed to get up, only to be laid over by Elm, the Wyvern ducking herself low, making sure the armour of her body was placed over Byleth’s skin.

“NO! ELM! LET ME HELP HIM!” She screamed at the creature, trying and failing to heave its body from off her. Her sword sung as she extended the blade, hitting one assassin with a long bow aimed for Seteth’s eye.

“Seteth!” She screamed, watching him tear the assassin’s apart, flaming hot, green blasts of energy sending chips of wood flying, spraying into the assassins, the large chunks taking some down themselves as they were sent with such velocity. He couldn’t hear her as he rampaged, throwing his weight into the assassins, killing many with his bulk alone. Byleth touched Elm’s belly before heaving her way out from under the Wyvern’s wing, grabbing hold of her bulky sword before throwing herself into the fray, whispering a white magic prayer for her husband, healing him enough to make sure she could clean up the stragglers.

The last assassin fell with a holler and Byleth turned to face the draconic creature before her. Seteth looked down, claws and jaws dripping with blood before he slumped over, great chest heaving before bright green light engulfed his form. Byleth gasped and ran over, looking at the blood Saint laid over the bottom of the tree, his back covered in blood, two arrows sticking out of it.

“Oh Gods…Oh Goddess.” Byleth felt tears run down her face before she began to sob over his form, pushing blood off his face to try and see if he was still breathing. She leaned over, placing her ear to his chest. There was a soft heatbeat. Seteth breathed evenly, his forehead wrinkled in pain as he was rolled over onto his side.

“Please don’t die, my love, please.” She sobbed, hands fumbling to grip the arrows. She grasped the shafts before tugging them free with slick noises. Seteth groaned, his eyes fluttering beneath her. Stemming the bleeding with her hands, Byleth breathed, choking out white magic between her sobs, healing his back as well as she could without expert hands to guide her.  The hound healed, leaving tough scars in their wake, and Byleth clutched Seteth’s face, looking for any signs that he was regaining consciousness.

She kissed him softly, begging around her crying, cradling his head in her lap as she tore off her robes and used them to wipe blood from his skin. She caught sight of the white scales under his eyes, and hoped that he was still there.

“Seteth. My love?” Her fingers wrapped around his own, hoping he could hear her.

“Byleth…” He whispered and she opened her eyes, tears dripping onto his chest, “Do not cry.” He coughed up blood as she hugged him, his body weak and injured, “I did it to protect you…”

“You are a great fool!” She cried into his chest, face pressed to his chest as she thumped him softly, “I can look after myself!” Byleth cradled him closer and kissed his green hair, “You almost died…I thought…You promised to never leave me, Seteth. Please never leave me.” Her fingers curled tight into his skin and Seteth smiled gently, easing her away before cupping her face, eyes still glowing, the pupils that of a reptile.

“I promise…I will never leave you.”

Rescue turned up a short time later, her guard quickly getting to work in securing them both and getting them into the carriage after Seteth calmed his agonized Wyvern. The creature flew above them for the journey home, and made sure to poke her head into their window often as Seteth recovered, laid in their bed, Byleth nursing him despite his protests. It was a week before he was strong enough to get out of the sheets. In that week his daughter returned home, her husband in tow. Flayn rushed to her father’s side, hands alight with holy magic before he assured her he was well, just sore. She was more amazed by the feat of changing.

“He hasn’t been able to shift since…since mother died. It must be because of you, professor. You’ve given him back his reason to love.” She hugged Byleth gently before leaving the two of them, assured of her Father’s safety and recovery under Byleth’s wise hands.

It was another few weeks before he entertained her cuddling, having already has his fill of her coddling and babying of him while he recovered. Byleth gently leaned over him, pressing Seteth’s shoulders back into their soft sheets, looking at the scales that grew under his cheeks. She ground her hips down over his erection and watched colour burst within his eyes.

“Is it a reaction to anything that annoys you, my love?” She whispered, fingers trailing over the scales gently before Seteth swallowed and caught her other hand. Byleth’s fingers wiggled in his hold, edging to move into his clothes and tease him. Her hips were doing a good enough job of that and the man sighed gently, taking her palm and pressing a soft kiss to the skin there.

“I can control it and I will not indulge your talk. It is not a toy, Byleth. It is the Goddess’ gift.” He muttered before trying to catch her lips. Byleth pressed her fingers over his mouth, holding him back against the mattress before she twisted her hips around, rutting against his clothed cock softly, knowing she was winding him up.

“Not even if I beg for you dragon cock, my love? Your Saintly length inside of me?” Byleth moaned above him, dipping her own fingers down into her undergarments, pressing them against her entrance, teasing herself above the Saint.

Seteth growled underneath her, and Byleth felt herself clench above him before she dared to look down. Green eyes glowed before he snatched her, pressing her underneath his weight, sharp teeth leaving marks against her neck, rough scales grazing against her cheeks as he kissed her sloppily, teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

“I’ll make sure to clear your calendar, dear.” Seteth grumbled.

“And why is that my love?”

“You won’t be able to walk to them, I’m afraid.” He held her cheeks roughly before kissing down her stomach, tongue pushing against her.

Chapter Text

It was a struggle for Byleth and Seteth to have a moment to themselves. It was such a rarity in fact, that Byleth took to stowing away into the woods, making sure to hide herself well enough so that only her husband could go out and find her. She made sure to do it once every month or so, curling herself into the highest branches, cloak curled around her ankles, golden headdress hung above her. Duties were sometimes a little too much, and Byleth sought the freedom of the woods, smelling the grass, dirt and earth. She felt calmer outside and away from her duties. It was calming, listening to the leaves rustling in the breeze as she leaned back against the bark, picking at them and peeling them apart to entertain herself. Sometimes she made little creatures from leaves and twigs, smiling before setting them in the higher branches for the birds to peck apart. Her mind sometimes wandered to making toys for a child, but she shook her head.

She hadn’t the time nor the will for a child. Not with the Kingdom in ruins and Dimitri needing her help to restore the peace. The Knights were working tirelessly under their guidance, helping villages while remaining impartial to the state’s dealings. Seteth sometimes disappeared out with them, making sure to restore the statues of the gods and saints as he went. One day, she wondered if he would tell her of the tragedy that befell his people. He would maybe tell her if she asked, but she felt as though she was poking her nose in where it was not wanted. Byleth sighed and picked a round green leaf from the tree, curling her nails around the edges to try and peal away a layer. It ripped in her gasp and she sighed before hearing rustling down below her. A patrol clanked through the clearing, heavy armour and weapons scrapping as they passed her by without even one look upwards. Byleth smiled into her hand before dipping her head through the leaves, looking after the patrol, upside down, hanging from the branch by her legs.

“Ahem? Is it appropriate for the Archbishop to be hiding from her duties?” Byleth squeaked and flipped from the branch, quickly shifting her weight to make sure she landed on her feet, palms in the dirt. She swallowed before looking up at her husband with a sad expression. Seteth was never fooled by her look of innocence.

“I know, Seteth. It is not appropriate…but I am sick to death of being locked in my office or the audience chambers!” She was tempted to stomp her foot but resisted the urge, instead leaning against him. He opened his arms instantly and let her into his embrace, sighing in exasperation.

“You promised me you would stop this, Byleth.” He gently took hold of her cheeks, tilting her face upwards, “And we both vowed to tend to our duties to look after the realm, if you don’t remember.” Seteth ran his thumbs over her cheek bones.

“I know what I promised but…I can’t do it Seteth. I can’t.” Byleth pressed her face into his chest, hugging his waist tight, “It’s not me…I’m a mercenary and I will be all my life. Offices and audience chambers don’t suit me.” She laughed into his fine clothing before pulling away, feeling choked up, her throat tight for some reason.

“You are doing so well, my dear. You do well every day.” Seteth leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to her hair line, “I am so very proud of you. I could ask for no more from you.” He confessed before holding the back of her head gently, pressing his cheek to her own as he held Byleth in a tight hug, trying to support her.

“Thank you, my love.” She murmured, enjoying his embrace for a moment, listening to the trees sway and leaves rustle around them, “I just…I feel out of my depth and like…I don’t think I’m the best person to be leading a religion. I didn’t even know about the Goddess before I joined the Academy.” Byleth sighed.

Seteth only chuckled softly, “You are worrying over nothing.” The man took Byleth’s cheeks in his palms before he looked her in the eyes, “You know everything about the teachings now, my love.” Gentle fingers moved over the apples of her cheeks, soothing her worries as well as he could.

“I know…I just…” Byleth felt Seteth hum in disproval and shut her mouth with a sigh. She was fretting and she knew it, “I just want more time to myself…and for us.”

Byleth felt her cheeks go a little warm with the confession. It was foreign to her to want time with another. From being nearly five years old, she was used to being able to fend for herself. Jeralt had to spend the day away from her most of the time, and so she knew how to look after herself.

Seteth smiled down at his wife, “I’m flattered you want to spend time with me but-“ He looked at her downcast face before frowning and revaluating his choice of words, “If I had known this is why you were escaping out into the woods, Byleth, I could have done something sooner.” Seteth kissed her forehead softly, “I promise to clear your schedule for a week or so soon, my love. Then we can get away for some time. How does that sound?” He offered, diplomatically, before watching Byleth’s face melt into a happy smile.

“That would be wonderful…Where shall we go?” She asked softly, fingers curling into the material of Seteth’s tunic.

“I will arrange that in secret. It will be somewhere relaxing for the both of us. The Goddess knows that we have enough stress.” He took his hands away and wrapped an arm around Byleth’s waist, “Come now. Back to the monastery. I can keep an eye on you there…and after your evening duties I will treat you, hmm?”

Byleth’s face heated up before Seteth sputtered, “I was thinking of a soak in the sauna. I swear…Your thoughts are most crude, Byleth.”

Byleth smiled up at him before allowing herself to be guided, “It is only right for a wife to assume that much. You should be looking after me in both of those ways.” She teased, a hand cupping the bottom of Seteth’s back.

“Watch your hands, Byleth.” Seteth grumbled as they made their way back to the path, “We will see if you’ve behaved yourself, hmm?”

“We both know that is an empty threat, my love.” The Chosen One hummed before taking the lead back up the moat, towards the Cathedral.

“We shall see…” Seteth followed her before speaking to the gatekeeper, informing him of the Archbishop’s return, and to call the search for her off. He shook his head as he followed his wife, knowing now that he would have several promises to follow through on.

Their small break didn’t come fast enough, in Byleth’s opinion. However, when it did, Seteth seemed reluctant to leave his workstation. Byleth had to drag him from the grounds the morning of their departure, into the carriage. The door was bolted, and the window quickly put up so he couldn’t bark anymore orders out at the capable knights left to defend the monastery.  Catherine waved jovially alongside Alois while Shamir smirked from against the wall and snapped an order to a patrol. Byleth was sure they would be fine without the two of them. They had Manuela and Hanneman as well to fall back on should they need help with unruly students. Seteth held his forehead in his hand as he watched Catherine kick Alois inside, slapping the other knight’s shoulder as they went back to business. Shamir followed them with a sigh, Cyril making himself known with his Wyvern close by. Byleth snickered softly at Seteth’s obvious worry. As if him constantly worrying and doting on Flayn wasn’t enough, now she had to deal with him constantly worrying about the monastery and their acquired friends.

“My love.” Byleth pulled his hands away from his face, “You have no need to worry and you know that well enough.” She patted his cheek and left him to his brooding hour looking out of the window. If that wasn’t enough, she knew well enough that Seteth’s clingy Wyvern was following above. There was no way that the two of them would be able to get out without the creature following anyway. They had simply one to a nearby town without her, once, and the Wyvern had broken free from her stable, ransacked the food and then taken to squawking before flying to find her master. The dull, brown Wyvern had found them on the outskirts of town, interrupting a soft moment of peace and intimacy with a graceful landing and her head pushed between the two of them.

“I can’t help but worry…” Seteth admitted, voice muffled by his hand. His chin was pressed into his palm, fingers curled over his mouth as he frowned, looking out of the window of the carriage, “I…” He grumbled instead of trying to speak his mind, watching the trees go past. After a deep breath he started again, “I don’t want anything to go wrong. We have worked so hard for this peace, Byleth. I wanted to oversee the entrance exams for the Knights myself. They need to be able to protect the monastery…They need to be able to protect you and…”

Byleth almost rolled her eyes at her husband. He had his heart in the right place, but Seteth was overbearing with it at times. If the Knights could not defend her, then she could easily defend herself in their place.

“You have forgotten I am a war hero, my love. I can defend myself when the Knights fail.” She leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder, “Still, you are underestimating our allies! They are more than capable of choosing new Knights, Seteth, you are worrying over nothing.” Byleth sighed and gripped her husband’s face, turning him by the cheeks, squeezing the flesh tight between her fingers, “Listen to me, Seteth. The world won’t collapse without us for a week and you need to trust our friends.” She gave him a cold look, still holding the Saint’s face in her hand.

Seteth’s eyes went wide with the scolding, “My love…” He swallowed thickly, “I apologise…”

“No you will listen to me and take it on board.” Byleth glared at him before sighing and letting go of his face, “Have some faith, Seteth. The world will turn without you turning the cogs for it.” She poked his cheek and drew away, leaving the man to stew in his own silence for a moment.

“Byleth.” Seteth said softly, taking her hand in his, “I am sorry for my behaviour.” Byleth looked over at her husband as he apologised and Seteth smiled, a little and fragile smile, “You are right. I should…trust our allies a little more. I just… I don’t want to see the world in ruin…Not ever again.” He confessed, taking her other hand and squeezing both of them tight as he pressed a pair of soft kisses to each of her sets of fingers.

Byleth took her hands back and reached up to push the hair from his cheeks, tenderly holding Seteth’s face before she smiled up at him, “You won’t. I promise you. The world will remain peaceful without us at the seat of it for one week.” She leaned up and kissed him gently, pulling away to pat his cheeks before nestling against Seteth’s side, “Now relax. We have a whole week of just us ahead.” She announced gleefully, holding her husband’s hand in her lap as she gazed out of the window, watching the woodlands go past. She felt pressure on her hand and looked up at Seteth’s smile.

He was tight with tension for the entire journey and even more tension when Elm skirted into the clearing after them, chomping and grumbling as she crawled over to them, large and ancient. Her orange eyes glinted with glee but her being there only worried Seteth more.

Byleth walked out of their small cottage to see the man holding his Wyvern’s head, muttering at the beast, fingers stroking over her rough hide and scales, “Elm…I hope you are only here to chase after me. Nothing is wrong is it?” He trailed a hand up and over her horns.

“Elm follows you wherever you go, my love, you know this by now.” Byleth smiled and walked to Seteth’s side, fingers touching Elm’s head, calming the Wyvern with a soft hushing noise.

“But…” Seteth shook his head before stroking his beard slowly, trying and failing to calm his nerves, “I am worried about them…and Flayn. I hope she is alright.”

“You know as well as I that Flayn can look after herself.” Byleth tapped under Elm’s chin and watched the Wyvern pad off to go and find a place to bed down.

Seteth watched his mount go before he felt Byleth tug his hands, drawing him away from the clearing and back towards their cottage.

“Come. You promised to take me to the lake and catch lunch. Elm will want some too.” Byleth teased gently, watching Seteth sigh before his cloak flapped, signalling he was following close behind her, back towards their cottage.

“I would catch you something, but I fear I cannot bait the hooks.” Seteth confessed, gently taking hold of Byleth’s hand as she opened the door to the cottage.

“I thought you used to fish with…”

“Yes. With my wife. I would only cast the line. She knew what bait to use to catch whatever fish it was that she wanted. I was simply the man-power, to put it simply.” A thin smile curled Seteth’s lips upwards and Byleth tapped her chin, thinking for a moment.

“Well, maybe we will have to make a detour and grab some critters for bait. The mulch under the trees will have worms.” Seteth nodded, feeling plain and under dressed in their travelling clothes.

They looked normal and Seteth reached for his ears. The points were a harsh reminder that he wasn’t normal, and neither was his wife. They were powerful beings. Perhaps that was why they belonged together. He was drawn from his revere as Byleth held out the rod for him, a little bag over her shoulder and a large satchel flapping by her hip.

“Come, my love.” She whispered and kissed his cheek, walking out of the door with a smile, her hand held out for him to take. The sun rays lit up her hair and Seteth swallowed as he looked over her form, clad in a hardy travelling dress. Normal.

“Of course. The lake is not far. Even you should be able to smell the water.” Seteth chuckled and took her hand, squeezing it tight, reassuring himself that she was there, before following Byleth out into the light.

Byleth huffed and linked their fingers, “You know I don’t have a good nose.” She shrugged.

Seteth laughed at her, “No, you have a good one when it comes to food.” He rested the fishing rod on his shoulder, stepping over a tree root, “I have never seen a woman find an apple pie so quickly.”

Byleth huffed softly, barely audible, at his teasing of her eating habbits, “I knew Ashe had made one… I just wanted a slice. Everyone I asked said there wasn’t one. I felt like I just had to eat it…maybe out of spite.” She confessed with a pink tinge to her cheeks. She remembered sitting at her desk with the hostage pie and remembered well the following hour of stuffing her face full of sugary apple and pastry before Manuela had found her asleep on her papers, the empty pie dish the evidence of her crimes.

“That wasn’t a good example to set for our students, now was it?” Seteth didn’t look at her, he simply kept walking.

“I think Ashe was just hiding it for fun. It was…Never mind. I know what you’re doing, my love, and you wont win!” Byleth declared, smiling at the relaxed slope to Seteth’s shoulders.

Seteth looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, green irises glinting with something like mischief, “I’m doing nothing, my dear. I was simply admiring how much dedication to food you have. And don’t…”

“Are you calling me fat, my beloved?” Byleth fixed her cold eyes on him.

“No, nothing of the sort.” Seteth returned her look with ease and Byleth cursed. He was the only one her glare didn’t work on. As if he had read her mind, Seteth smirked, “Your glare doesn’t work on me anymore, dear.” He chuckled and took a deep breath as they reached the clearing, taking in the smell of the water like a hound. Seteth was at home by the water, and Byleth let go of his hand to admire the view.

The sunlight filtered through the trees, sparkling over the surface of a small lake, the water rippling and shining in tones of blue and green. Thick reeds clumped around the edges in places and Byleth looked up to see a mountain in the distance, the water amassing from the rocky structure. She looked around and spotted animals lurking, some drinking from the pool before scampering back into the woods. Seteth approached the water and investigated the depths. Fish scattered as his shadow loomed over the water’s edge and Byleth smiled as he did.

“I’ll go and grab some worms.” She strode over to the trees and dug in the dirt and mulch of leaves and twigs. Sure enough, she returned, hands covered in dirt, holding two fistfuls of worms.

Seteth turned and looked at the insects before grabbing her little pouch, opening the material for her to place the worms inside, “I don’t think we will need…quite this many?” Seteth looked at the squirming critters again, reminded of when Flayn would try and eat the bait as a child.

“Well…Anything we don’t use; I’ll just go and pour back into the leaves?” She offered before flopping into the grass.

The grass was cool and Byleth smiled, sat by the waters edge. She contemplated the waters before loosening her hardy leather boots and throwing them from the bank, somewhere into the grass behind her. She pulled up her skirts before tentatively sticking her toes into the cold water. Byleth shuddered before slowly immersing her feet into the water, kicking her legs gently, leaning back on her arms. Bright green eyes looked back at Seteth until he sat down beside her, placing the fishing rod to the side before he too took his boots off, rolling his trousers up before pushing his feet under the water.

“The water is nice.” Byleth hummed before laying her head on Seteth’s shoulder, relaxing against her husband.

“It is nice after travelling for so long yesterday.” He confirmed, nodding as he reached for his fishing rod. Byleth caught the hook and reached into the bag between them, drawing out a writhing worm before hooking it through a wrinkle of skin. The insect writhed on the hook and Byleth felt a ping of sympathy for the little creature as Seteth hummed and swung the rod, the line casting with a great swish, the bait and hook plopping into the water a little way off. A small wooden float bobbed on the surface, and Seteth watched it, eagle eyed as he leaned his head on top of Byleth’s. The two of them watched the float bob in silence, simply smiling together in the sunshine, feet underneath the cool water.

It was some time before Seteth saw the float begin to wobble. A fish had finally grown bold enough to nibble the bait. Byleth felt his shoulders tense and sat up, eyes focused on the wood as it suddenly disappeared beneath the surface of the lake. Seteth struck, snapping the line tight, the hook snagging the fish that had grabbed the bait. The Saint wobbled on the bank before grumbling and heaving the line backwards, arms flexing to drag the fish a little closer. The old reel squealed in protest, but he held tight and smiled at Byleth, “Perhaps we will have a large dinner tonight, my love.”

“By the looks of the way your arms are straining, I’d say its something big enough for more than one dinner!” Byleth’s eyes went wide as she watched Seteth drag the fish to shore with great ease. For a man with a milenia’s worth of experience fighting atop a mount, she was sure that the fish was no real ask of him.

“Goddess! This creature is persistent!” Seteth cursed before stepping around Byleth to try and pull the fish in a new direction. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath, clenched his pointed teeth, and heaved.

Byleth’s mouth opened as she saw the fish explode from the water. It was a massive creature, longer than her torso and shining with brilliant silver scales. It was no Silver Fish, but it was huge and meaty. Her mouth watered with the prospect of food and she rushed towards her husband to catch the beast as it flew towards Seteth. The man grunted as she shoved him into the dirt. The great fish landed with a crack and a thud in the grass, gasping for water as it flopped around uselessly, trying to get back to the water.

Seteth groaned from the dirt and coughed once before wrapping his splayed arms around Byleth, holding her on top of his body. She looked up as she felt his body shake. When she looked at her husband’s face, it was covered in a smile, and he was laughing, his whole body racked with glorious laughter.

“My love, I am…sorry.” He wheezed before sitting up, “I would have been fine. You did not need to save me from a fish.” Seteth stroked Byleth’s hair.

“That thing is huge! It could have broken your skull!” The laughter was infectious, and soon Byleth was also in hysterics, laughing into Seteth’s chest, laid out on the grass.

“Then…” Seteth tugged her face up and planted a soft kiss on Byleth’s lips, “Thank you for saving me, my love.”

Byleth blushed before bolting upwards, “Oh! The fish! It is getting away!” She was up in a flash and dashed after the flopping creature. With a heave of effort, she scooped it up out of the grass and held the writhing fish up over her head, “Got it!”

Seteth only laughed from the grass before getting up to help her take care of it, before they would be able to cook it for their dinners.

Dinner was a quiet affair for the most part, after Byleth had finished questioning his every movement over the stove. She was curious about what he was doing with the fish they caught right up until it was on her plate in front of her. A great fried fillet of the fish with onions, chives and other vegetables along with potatoes. They had all been done together and Byleth felt her mouth water as she dug into the large portion. Seteth himself had a large appetite, it came with their biology, but Byleth still had something of a large one, even for the Nabatean.

“Seteth…its soooo gooood.” She cooed around a mouthful of fish and sautéed cabbage. Seteth leaned over to close his wife’s mouth, clicking her chin upwards.

“Byleth. Do not talk with your mouth full.” He sighed and went back to his own food before thanking her for the compliment.

Byleth swallowed before speaking again, “Thank you for making this for us.” She leaned out of her chair and pressed a sweet kiss to Seteth’s cheek.

Seteth blushed at her admission, “You are welcome, my love.”

“Now let’s make the most of our time together.” Byleth smiled and pushed her empty plate aside, “We are on holiday after all! Now what do you think of going to the tavern?” She grinned and Seteth only smiled, her happiness infectious.

“Yes. We should enjoy this time, while we have it.” He smiled and reached for his wife’s hand, kissing the knuckles before taking both of their plates away. He would try to enjoy this holiday, for Byleth.

Chapter Text

“You know you should not be here at this hour, Byleth.” Seteth placed his quill in its holder, and sighed gently, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he looked away from the paperwork in front of him. He blew on the ink before rolling the scroll up and placing it in the basket on the edge of his old desk. Byleth sighed from the doorway, closing the heavy door behind her as she stepped inside of the warm room. Seteth was, as usual, working late, and Byleth looked at the candles, burning low around the room, barely providing the man enough light to work at all.

“This hour? My love it is completely dark outside!” She teased with a soft smile before pointing at the window behind her lover.

Seteth’s eyes widened before he too peered out of the panes of glass, “So it is… I apologise, my love, I got caught up finishing this paperwork. There were quite a few letters to pen.” Byleth drew closer to his side and Seteth tilted his chin up as she leaned down to kiss his lips. It was a gentle kiss, straight to the man’s lips before she pulled away and eased her robes backwards, seating herself firmly in Seteth’s lap.

“Byleth, please. I need to finish this last letter, and then I am all yours.” He tried to pat her away, his hand pressed firmly to the base of her back. The saint sat back in his chair as she refused to move and sighed, resting his head on his fist, wrapping the hand around the Archbishop’s waist.

“You have been working all day, Seteth.” Byleth laid her head back against his shoulder before reaching to play with the soft ends of Seteth’s mossy hair, “It is time for you to rest. You’ll only start to make mistakes at this hour.” The woman shifted over her husband’s lap before forcibly moving his paperwork away, stacking the papers before closing the ink well and settling back against Seteth’s chest.

“I see you will stop me no matter how much I protest.” Seteth smiled softly, leaning into Byleth’s touch as she scooped his hair back over his ears, “I have to admit, I do enjoy your attention.” He whispered softly against her hand as she touched the tips of his ears and pulled his hair back behind them.

“You enjoy my attention in all forms, you just won’t admit it, my love,” She teased, still playing with his soft hair, straddling his thighs before kissing his forehead. Seteth’s hands moved to cup her hips, rubbing circles into her skin beneath the heavy material of the Archbishop robes.

Seteth hummed, “You are just as bad as me for working so late then brushing off advances.” His eyes were heavy lidded, relaxation already seeping into the man’s bones as he let Byleth touch and stroke at his hair and skin. She leaned over and cupped his chin, raising his face to kiss him again, fingertips moving to stroke along his cheeks and the hair of his beard.

“I know I am.” Byleth admitted before kissing him again, once again, softly, almost reverently. Seteth returned the slow movements, fingers tugging her hips closer, pressing her front against him. He pulled away as his hair caught in her crown and snorted softly. Seteth reached upwards to remove his hair from the gold, sighing at the strands that now flopped in front of his face. Byleth returned to her combing, once again pulling them away from his face.

The two sat, squashed together, on Seteth’s desk chair, simply holding one another, soft kisses peppered against each other’s lips as they enjoyed each other’s company, if only for a short while. Seteth ran his fingers through Byleth’s hair, enjoying the longer length of it as he gently pulled tangles free through the gaps between his fingers.

Byleth grunted as he caught a knot and pouted softly, “Careful. My scalp is sensitive.” Byleth wound her arms around the back of Seteth’s neck and sighed.

Seteth kissed her cheek in apology, “I apologise, my love.”

Byleth smiled and ground her hips forwards, smirking then was Seteth grunted into her neck, fingers curling into the meat of her hips and waist.

“You’re pushing your luck, Byleth.” Seteth grumbled as he held her hips still, “This is my office, not a place for fraternization.” The man hummed, tone stern as he reached a hand into her hair, adjusting the crown that was weaved into it, “Not to mention the unlocked door.” He raised an eyebrow at her before kissing her again and standing, holding Byleth as she awkwardly, and quickly, put her feet back on the floor, white robes flowing around her legs.

She kissed the corner of his lips and Seteth sighed, “Come, we are not on holiday anymore, Byleth.” His lips quirked with a small smile.

“Mmm but after hours, we are just man and wife again. And, therefore, as your wife, I have certain, needs, that need to be taken care of.” Byleth muttered into his neck, wrapping her arms around him once more, kissing his chin before taking his hand, “If not here then back in my quarters. I…” She turned around after a deep breath and leaned up to whisper in his pointed ear, “I want you to take me, Seteth.”

Seteth felt his spine tingle and a shiver run through him, an embarrassed flush covering the tops of his cheeks, “Your quarters, indeed.” He muttered before taking her hand, closing the door to his study behind them, the key to the door almost slipping from his hand as Byleth grabbed his backside, squeezing the pert flesh in her strong hands. The saint only coughed and removed her hands before following her to her bedroom. She pressed him against the door as he closed it, flicking the lock before he was occupied by Byleth’s mouth, kissing her back just as intensely.

Hands groped at his backside before pulling at the laces of his trousers, his cape already fluttering to the floor. Byleth was a fast worker, and Seteth quickly felt her tug his trousers down to around hi thighs. The man yelped before pulled her hands away, managing to detangle her fingers from the laces before he gestured to the bed, “You are demanding today, I see.” He grumped before pulling his trousers up enough to be able to walk, picking his cloak up as he went. Seteth hung his cloak over the back of her armchair, shedding his tunic and boots before turning back to Byleth. He almost covered his eyes at the sight, but instead felt his mouth drop open. Apparently, the Archbishop could get out of her clothes faster than a snake.

“G-Goddess, Byleth!” Seteth choked on his words from the end of the bed, cheeks red as he watched her spread her legs, fingers dipping into her slit as she pressed her head back into the pillows, “This is entirely inappropriate.” He snapped. She ignored him in favour of moaning his name, slowly pushing another finger into herself, scissoring herself open in front of the draconic saint.

“Mmm… Don’t be so prudish, my love. Cichol.” She whined as she thrust her fingers in and out of herself, moaning his true name.

Byleth moaned in upset as Seteth pulled her fingers from her sex, pining her hands by her head as he grumbled to himself. He was quick to release her in favour of playing with her himself. Green hair tickled her skin as Seteth ghosted his lips over her breasts, blowing hot air over the soft skin before kissing her areola and taking a nipple into his mouth. The Archbishop moaned underneath him, rutting upwards into his mouth, grinding her wet mound against Seteth’s thigh.   

“Seteth please. I need you now.” She demanded, pressing her hips upwards again before taking his hair in her hand. She fisted the locks before humming, pushing her slick fingers into his mouth. The saint moaned around them, licking at the underside softly before he looked her in the eyes. With a grumble she was pinned down once more, wet fingers gripping the pillow under her head as Seteth pressed the flat of his tongue to her entrance, slowly pressing inside of her walls. Byleth moaned before humming appreciatively, hands raking Seteth’s hair backwards as he licked at her clitoris and pressed fingers inside of her.

Neither of them realised what was brewing until Byleth came against his face and demanded more, rutting her hips desperately against him once more. It took a firm hand to hold her down and Seteth gasped softly as he was granted air again, feeling the wetness all over his chin and lips.

“Byleth, a moment.” He took a breath before reaching for the table, trying in vain to find a tissue or cloth to wipe his face off with. He never managed to find one, Byleth took his face and kissed him soundly, tongue pressing inside his mouth as she ground herself against the buldge in the front of his trousers.

“Seteth. Its too hot.” Byleth whinned, licking at the wetness over his face, “I need you.”

The man gasped before cupping her face, “Byleth, my love, listen to me. Shh.” He cooed softly, making her open her eyes before he spoke next, “This is something of a heat…This need to make love, to have me. It is natural, but I must know that you want this. I will not give you something that you do not want.” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, looking into her eyes with an earnest expression.

Byleth took a deep breath, and then another, trying to steady herself through the haze of raging hormones. Goddess, she wanted him now, deep inside of her, but the rational side quickly broke through, providing logic to her needs.

“This…My body wants to bear a child, doesn’t it?” She muttered next to Seteth’s ear.

“Perhaps. That would be the logic behind such vicious procreation…” He whispered back.

Byleth weaved her fingers behind his neck and kissed his cheek softly, “Then take me, my saint. If I do bear a child, it will not be unwanted.” He heard the faraway tone in her voice but knew it to be her. Seteth nodded softly before standing to remove his trousers and underclothes, revealing his length to her at last.

“If you are sure, my love, then I will provide.” He leaned over Byleth before lining himself up, and gently easing himself inside. The gentleness made her toes curl, fingers scrapping down Seteth’s back as she held onto him. The Nabatean peppered soft kisses across her face as he sheathed himself inside, length twitching against her slick walls.

“I love you, Byleth.” He whispered, looking at the woman beneath him reverently, breathing against her flushed skin.

“I love you too, Cichol.” They moaned together softly as Seteth began to move, filling her deep with slow, full thrusts, easing himself out to the head each time before he thrust back into her. She called his name, begged for release, nails digging into his back before she found herself face down in the pillows.

“Hips up, my love.” He purred against her spine before filling her once more from behind, fingers straying to stroke at her clit, his other hand squeezing at her chest, pulling her nipples harshly as he moaned into the back of her neck. He soon stopped torturing her chest in favour of planting a hand in the sheets, easing himself backwards to take hold of her hips.

“Cichol…Seteth, please.” Byleth begged, feeling a coil tighten in her abdomen, demanding release and to be filled, heat boiling in her head, “Please cum inside.” It was babble now, as Seteth’s methodical pace didn’t falter, only grew harder, their skin slapping as he worked her to her precipice.

“Byleth…my love…I love you…I love you more than anything in this world.” He moaned into the hot air of her chambers. She screamed in response, climaxing around his cock, squeezing him tight as he felt slickness drip down his thighs. Seteth snapped forwards, sharp teeth digging into the meat of Byleth’s back to muffle his noise as he shot thick ropes of cum inside of her, feeling the quivering muscle of her cervix as he roughly buried himself as deep as he could go. Green hair clung to each of them as they panted, sweat slicked and exhausted. Byleth moaned, hips faltering, and Seteth let her fall into the sheets, pulling his hair back as he watched cum drip from her. He resisted the urge to press his fingers inside and laid down beside her, pressing the woman to his chest, panting against her hair.

His words faltered as she gripped his cock, “More, my love, please.” Byleth begged softly, blissful expression half hidden by the pillow she had flopped into.

“Allow me a moment.” His voice went strangled as she pushed him over, hand already working at him, cum dripping from her and onto his abdomen, her fist working him up and down again already.

“G-Goddess…Byleth!” Seteth took her hand away and grumbled, “Not yet…rest now.” With every ounce of his self-control he pulled her back into bed.

“But later?” She asked in the cold tone he had always known.

Seteth blushed, “Yes, later, but just…give me a moment.” He held her fast as she wiggled but found himself distracted a few minutes later as she pressed his cock between her lips.

They awoke the next morning after noon, Seteth bolting upright with a flurry of incoherent words, muttering to himself as he rubbed his eyes, looking only then at the mess they were both in. His hair was strewn in four directions, and the man sighed softly at the mess before he felt Byleth stir next to him.

“Seteth…It is a Sunday… We have nothing to do today, my love.” She muttered from under the sheets, groaning as Seteth shifted and revealed her to the afternoon sunlight.

He stilled then before stretching, scratching at his chin before smiling, “Ah…I forgot. I’m sorry for waking you, my love.” He settled back against the cushions and pressed a kiss to Byleth’s hair.

“Don’t apologise…Its midday after all.” She stretched her hands out of the sheets and smiled before her brow furrowed, feeling the ache between her legs and in her hips.

Seteth’s gentle hands rubbed circles over her skin, “I’m sorry, my love, I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.” He apologised, kissing her shoulder, pulling her bright hair back over her shoulder.

“Don’t…I asked for it.” She smirked through her curtain of hair before closing her eyes, “You can make it up to me by cuddling for just a bit longer.” Byleth pressed her head into Seteth’s shoulder and hummed, hugging him tightly as she settled back down. She felt hands in her hair and soft words as she drifted back off.

Life continued as normal, or at least for a few weeks. It was the week of Saint Cethleann day, and Byleth was to host the ceremonies, leading the choir and mass in chorus for the day. Though, she had taken to teasing Seteth about the day as well on their way to the Cathedral.

“Perhaps we should have gotten Flayn a cake?” She teased, “It’s almost like her birthday!” She smirked as Seteth sighed, giving her a withering look.

The withering look was directed back towards the cathedral doors, “Come now, you have a choir to show off.” He opened the door and let Byleth through, catching her trail of fabric and smoothing it out as she walked down the centre of the pews, cool faced as she reached the front. Seteth watched from the back of the Cathedral as she addressed the masses, smiling gently as the music of the day began.

Byleth ended the ceremony and waited at the front of the Cathedral, her legs tired and body exhausted from the day of ceremonies and singing. Her head was ringing with the noise, and the Archbishop sat in a pew as the remainder of the attendees left. All except one hulking blond. Dimitri was sat in the front pew, and Byleth spotted him, eyes wide as she called out to him.

“Dimitri?” She called softly, watching as the blond looked away from the restored altar, his lips stopping moving, “It’s been a long time.” She smiled gently and held out her hand for him. The King of Faerghus swallowed before standing, his imposing figure stooping down to take his Professor’s hand, helping her out of the pew she had curled her spine into.

“It has been some years now, yes.” He smiled at her, and Byleth allowed for him to take her arm, “I came for the festival. I find the service on this Saint Day to be…peaceful. Perhaps Cethleann is simply a calming saint?” His blue eye sparkled with mirth.

Byleth chuckled at him, “Perhaps she is.” She gazed up at the king and frowned, “You look like you have something on your mind, Dimitri? Are you alright?”

“Will you walk with me, Byleth? I have a few things I wish to discuss with you, if that is alright?” Byleth nodded and let the man lead her out the side door, towards the well and the side towers.

Dimitri stood by the wall, looking over into the loch surrounding the Cathedral and monastery before he looked Byleth in the eyes, “I care for you, deeply, Byleth.” He burst out with, his cheeks going red.

“I care for you as well, Dimitri.” Byleth offered in confusion.

“No…not…” He took a deep breath, “I love you…” He whispered; the words muffled in the wind.

Byleth heard them perfectly well and felt her face fall. She was about to break the man’s heart, “I am flattered, Dimitri, but I fear you are too late.” She smiled solemnly before presenting her hand, the ring from Seteth still firmly on her finger.

“I…I did not know…” She watched him shut off, his jaw tight as he gazed at the platinum sat on her finger, “I apologise. This was foolish of me.” He gave her a watery smile.

Byleth wiped the tear from his cheek, “You will find someone. I am not yours, but there are many other women for you to love. If not, then know that you have many friends, Dimitri, all of which will support you in everything you do, myself included. I cannot be your wife, but I can still be your friend.” She reached forwards and gave the young king a hug, holding him firmly.

Dimitri pulled away first, hands set on her shoulders before he set his face, “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” He offered quietly.

“No, Dimitri, there is not. You were my student once…and now you are my friend, nothing more.” She took his hands away before turning, seeing Seteth stood by the doors, “Goodbye, Dimitri…Have a safe journey home.”

Dimitri gave her a smile and nodded before letting her hands go, “Goodbye, Byleth.” He left her with nothing more than that, and Byleth watched her student go. Seteth glanced at the King as he left, bowing stiffly yet politely before he made his way over to Byleth.

“What did he have to say?” Seteth asked coolly. He wasn’t blind, nor a fool, and he saw the look in Dimitri’s eyes as he went past him.

Byleth smiled sadly, “He told me he loved me.” She said plainly as she took Seteth’s arm.

The saint choked on his own spit, looking at his wife with wide eyes, “I did not think he would be so bold.” Something in his gut burned with anger at the idea of another man wanting what was his. He wasn’t a boy anymore, and Seteth quelled the feeling with a deep breath and a squeeze to Byleth’s hand, “I trust you told him the truth?”

“That I am married and with child?” She blurted with a smile.

“Indeed, that you are married and…” Seteth’s mouth opened, his green eyebrows raising in shock, “With child? Y-You are pregnant?” He stuttered, looking at Byleth’s stomach with reverence, “By the Goddess.” He cursed, holding her closely.

“Yes. I’m pregnant with your child.” She said for him again.

Seteth grabbed the woman in a hug, pressing his face into her hair, “I am to be a father again.” He pulled away to kiss her softly, “This is wonderous news…We must endeavour to reduce your duties hence forth. No more of these days of ceremonies…”

Byleth pressed a finger to his lips, “Hush, my love, let us enjoy the moment.” She kissed his cheek before taking his hand, “Come on. You can treat me to dinner to celebrate first.”

“But of course.” Seteth kissed the back of her hand before letting her lead him to the kitchens.

Chapter Text

Keeping a pregnancy secret was too hard in a Monastery full of people that loved to gossip. Seteth was weary with sheer number of questions that were fired his way through the course of the week. He could hear the chamber maids chattering around the corner even now.

“Do you really believe him to be the father? Does it not seem strange that they would only now announce themselves married? It all feels so strange to me. I heard Cassandra last night. She believes the Right Hand and Archbishop were engaged in activities, and they got married to avoid the child being a bastard.”

It filled him with fury, and Seteth shook with anger as he listened, not two steps away from Byleth’s door, as the women chattered vicious and cruel rumours. The male looked to the corner and took a breath, walking quickly before standing behind the group of giggling maids.

“I suggest you all find yourselves new employment.” Seteth spat through gritted teeth, watching as they froze, faces going pale, “Did you not hear me? I am not in the habit of repeating myself.” He goaded, eyes alight with fury, “You will not speak of the Archbishop in such a derogatory manner and work under this roof…Now, get out of my sight before I see fit to have you escorted from the premises.”

The maids scattered, heads hung low as they escaped Seteth’s wrath, hands tucked to their stomachs, and shoes clattering as they began down the stairs. Still, the anger in his veins didn’t abate, and Seteth took a deep breath outside of his wife’s quarters, looking at the ancient wood for a moment before he knocked and opened the door.

“Seteth?” Byleth called from the bathroom, her head moving so she could peer through the crack in the door. She smiled as she caught sight of him, “Good evening, my love.”

The anger fizzled out and Seteth smiled gently at his wife, “Imagine if it wasn’t I that had walked in, Byleth. Anyone could have come in here and be leering through the crack in the door.” He shook his head before reaching for his circlet, pulling it free before sighing and stripping off his cloak and tunic. Byleth watched her husband as he tore his boots free, standing to place them by the door, muscles tense and knotted over his shoulder blades and down the sides of his spine. The frustration was evident to her trained eyes.

“Seteth.” She called gently, stretching her hand towards the small gap in the door, “Come here?” Byleth asked softly, watching him look at her before walking towards her outstretched hand.

Seteth opened the door, wafting at the steam before he took her hand and kissed the back of it softly, “What is it, my love?” He asked, holding her hand as he crouched by the edge of the tub.

“Can we bathe together?” Byleth pouted softly, her cheeks rounder now with the pregnancy, making her request even harder to resist.

“If you insist.” Seteth sighed and stood back up, giving Byleth a perfect view of the plains of his stomach, hard with muscle, his chest broad and thick. He wasn’t made of beautiful and artistic muscle, but battle won weight, all of it practical, and honed from years of swinging an axe and thrusting a lance. Never mind the thickness to his thighs from gripping a Wyvern and standing in the saddle.

“Oh, I do insist. You need to relax today, that much I can tell from your posture alone.” Byleth did her best to stop her eyes wandering as he stripped his bottoms and under clothes, exposing green hair and more muscle.

Seteth smiled, a small quirk in the corners of his lips, “You truly do see through me.” He conceded before climbing into the water at the opposite end.

Byleth moved towards him, chest hidden beneath a small collection of bubbles as she seated herself in his laps, legs squashed against the sides of the tub.

“Now, what has you so wound up?” Byleth ran her wet hands over his cheeks and watched his forehead wrinkle, the only signs of any age he had were the three wrinkles in his forehead, though she would rather believe they were from frowning so often.

He wondered if it was worth telling her, but his anger quickly won the fight, “Chamber maids claimed our marriage to be only out of duty, to avoid a bastard child. I couldn’t face them claiming you to be a harlot…and…I dismissed the lot of them in my anger.”

Byleth’s fingers gently pressed his fisted fingers open, and the Archbishop kissed his nose softly, “You don’t have to defend my honour, Seteth. I can look after myself…And frankly, people can think what they want about our marriage, I don’t care.” She smiled and kissed his lips before wrapping her arms around his neck.

“But… They cannot think that their spiritual leader is going about breaking the very rules of the doctrine she preaches, do you not see that?” Seteth’s face was sour and etched with worry.

“But I have not. We were married, just in secret. The chamber maids will always spread vicious and foul rumours. Goddess, Seteth, it is all they have to do in this place at times. Rumours breed and die, and that is the nature of life.” She held his face firmly and sighed before cuddling closer.

The saint took a deep breath, “Next it will be a rumour about Mankete.” He cursed softly, hands moving from his sides to cup Byleth’s waist. They rested for a moment before trailing over her tummy, knowing that there was life growing, rooted within her womb, the evidence of such the large roundness to her tummy.

“Exactly, ridiculous rumours.” Byleth teased, smiling as his hands held her stomach, “Think on brighter things, my love.” She smiled, cupping her hand over his own, feeling the length of his fingers, tapping the wedding band that sat there gently as he continued to softly stroke her tummy, “Like how fat and pregnant I am. I can’t wait to finally give birth…I feel like a whale, and it has been six months at most.”

Seteth felt laughter escape him, “You are not large yet, Byleth, you still have a few more months of this…and then you can complain about being whale sized.” He leaned forwards to kiss her softly, pecking her lips before stroking her rounded baby bump once more, “And even if you are the size of a whale, I will still love you. No one is more beautiful than you in my eyes.” He confessed, the tips of his ears burning as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer in the hot bath water.

“I’m glad to hear it…Maybe not so glad to hear that I will only get bigger. I feel so unfit already.” She whined into his chest, clutching at his shoulders, “Never mind how desperate it makes me.” Byleth confessed with a grumble.

Seteth knew too well how desperate the woman could become for him, often waking him in the night to satisfy herself, “It will pass soon, I promise. Three more months will pass before you know it.” He tried not to think too hard on the differences in Byleth’s body, and their early morning trysts where she demanded him inside of her after moments of foreplay. He’d woken up before to her stroking his cock and sliding down his length, and the very memory of it made his loins stir with heat.

Byleth sighed into her husband’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth that was soothing to her aching back, not only from the distention and extra weight of her stomach, but also from the heaviness and soreness of her chest. It was early, and she knew it. She’d spoken to many maids about the fact that her chest was heavy so early. Nothing had begun leaking yet, but the weight that had started to accumulate was annoying. She was heavy chested enough without any extra weight to her breasts.

“I just can’t wait to shed all this weight…and get rid of how ridiculously large my chest is.” She grumped into his skin before feeling Seteth’s curious hands softly cup her chest, one breast in each hand as he softly massaged the flesh, feeling the stiffness and soreness of her nipples. Byleth moaned hotly before glaring, dragging Seteth’s hands away from her chest with a deep breath.

“You aren’t wrong about them being larger…Though I fail to see how this is a downside.” Seteth grunted as Byleth punched him weakly for the comment, “I apologise, my love, but you are perfect despite your worries.” He promised as he ran his hands along her, squeezing softly at her bottom under the water when she tried to thwart his compliments once again.

“Now, no more of this self deprecation. You are still the woman I love.” Seteth leaned forwards to kiss her again and Byleth sighed in defeat, leaning into the kiss with fervour, hands trailing over her husband’s large chest.

A hand swept Seteth’s hair from his face, revealing pointed ears, and Byleth hummed, “I find myself in need of comfort in another way, my love.” She purred softly, leaning over to nip at his ear.

Seteth smiled, tugging his head away from her before one of his hands moved from under her backside and swept between her legs, grazing her mound before one parted her labia in a stroke, slipping inside a moment later, curling against her walls softly.

“You are insatiable, Byleth.” Seteth huffed between pressing soft kisses to her shoulders, fingers pushing inside of her one at a time. Two fit snuggly, and Seteth scissored them apart carefully before he dared to press another in.

She didn’t appreciate his newfound care in the bedroom, and groaned at the slow pace, “Seteth…You will not hurt me, nor our child.” A nip was his punishment, and Byleth delighted in the dark mark it left on Seteth’s shoulder.

Green hair flopped over the red teeth marks as Seteth looked at the damage with a cool stare, “Watch yourself, Byleth.” He warned before groaning quietly, her fingers flicking at his nipples and teeth snatching at the skin of his neck.

“And why should I? You’re treating me like porcelain.” She complained, curling her fingers into his shoulders, “I will not break.”

“No but our child…” Seteth offered before his lips were covered with Byleth’s hand.

“You know that engaging in this won’t hurt our child, Seteth.” She reached down under the water and groped her husband.

Seteth shook her hand away and grumbled before gently letting go of his iron grip on her hips, allowing his wife to sink down slowly onto his dick, “I will say it again, my love, but you are insatiable.” He complained as he sought her hips, guiding Byleth up and down on his length, enjoying the slap of the water as she thrust her hips down. Seteth knew she would be tired shortly, the baby making her tire faster than ever before.

“Its your fault for putting your child inside of me.” Byleth’s hands clutched his shoulder’s, nails digging into the flesh there roughly as she felt him settle deep inside of her, clutching at his dick tightly. Seteth didn’t dare deny it, but simply leaned back in the tub, enjoying the weight of his wife over him in the heat of the bathroom.

A walk was effort for Byleth as she approached her due date, stomach huge and legs aching with the heaviness of herself, but still, Seteth insisted on the exercise for her. She was unable, in a large part, to complete many of her duties. Getting his wife to mass was effort enough, let alone trying to get her to meetings within various regions of the fiefdom. Byleth walked along slowly, clutching his arm and hand tightly as she walked further into the woods.

“Not far now, my love. Are you alright?” Seteth asked, holding her hand tightly as he helped Byleth over a small puddle under a tree.

“I’m fine, Seteth! Stop worrying. I can manage this small walk.” She smiled, “I hope there is somewhere to sit, however, my back is beginning to ache again.” Byleth huffed, rubbing at her back under the forgiving layers of cotton. She couldn’t bear to wear her robes anymore, and was thankful for the tailors being able to make her loose fitting maternity clothing.

“Here, we are here.” Seteth drew her gently into a clearing, a small wooden bench sat in the centre, and Byleth sighed with relief.

“Thank the Goddess.” She praised as she sat down, Seteth holding her hands as she lowered herself onto the wood.

He sat next to her and smiled, taking her hand and kissing the back of it as he sat next to her. Byleth touched a hand to her tummy and looked into the trees, feeling a crawling sensation over the back of her neck. It seemed to be something that came over her often enough now, but only since she had fallen pregnant. The feeling of something curling around her spinal column made her shiver. Seteth’s worried gaze lingered on her for a moment before he removed his cloak and set it about her shoulders.

“Thank you, Seteth…But I don’t believe that was because I am cold…” She felt her vision swim, and clutched Seteth’s hand tightly.

The man shot up, holding Byleth’s shoulder’s tightly, his eyes worried, mouth open as he watched her slump to the side, his mouth open, shouting things into the wid. Byleth’s soft green eyes fluttered before she felt unconsciousness take her.

She was welcomed into her own mind, or so she thought. Byleth opened her eyes, gentle pressure laid over her lap as she came back to herself. She looked down in confusion, the hands stroking green hair not her own, and looked at the meadow, the flowers foreign and strange. She’d never seen them in Fodlan before.

“Mother?”

She looked down into her lap and replied, though it wasn’t her own voice, “Yes?” Her dainty fingers combed more long hair from the child’s face.

“Will I have siblings soon?” The green eyes were familiar, yet she was endeared by the child in her lap.

“Perhaps soon. I have to mould them for you, my child. It is not…simple magic.” She leaned over into the meadow and reached for a flower, the white drooping petals beautiful. The child giggled as she tucked it into her hair.

“I can’t wait to have siblings, Mother.” She confessed, face bright with excitement.

“Nor I, my child.” She reached down into the grass and dug her fingers into the dirt, clutching a ball of it before beginning to sculpt the image of a person.

She breathed green fire onto it, and watched a race be born into the world, tears of joy dripping over her cheeks as she clutched her daughter’s hand.

The world was gone for a moment again before she opened her bright eyes once more. Warm stone sat under her fingers, and she curled her nails into the stone throne beneath her as a familiar face bowed before her.

“Mother…The humans…They want war. Your guidance and creation have been spat back at you! We must show them the meaning of defying a Goddess!” It was Seiros. Her eyes were alit with fury, her pointed teeth glinting as she snarled, slitted pupils burning with green rage.

“You will do no such thing. You will not harm my creations, Seiros!” Her voice shook the temple walls and Byleth looked at the grandeur of Zanado all around her. Three men stood at the base of her throne, head close together, and she spotted Seteth among them, hair tied back and beautiful white and gold robes glittering, Assal clutched in his hand as he spoke to his brothers.

“Mother! Listen to your madness! You would allow that bastard and his army to march in uncontested!” Seiros howled before her Mother.

She stood with wroth, sending her own daughter flying back down the steps to her throne, “Don’t speak of such heresy, child.”

“You will doom us if you attempt to speak peace with that monster!” Seiros screeched from the floor.

Next was pain, the swish of time’s ever moving clock as her spinal column was torn from her body and encrusted with her own draconic heart. Blood dripped from the blade as her own body was used to kill her children, Men and Nabatea alike. She howled into the winds of time as blood drenched her, but none ever heard her.

Time shifted once more, and she saw the carnage laid waste over Zanada by Sothis’ death. The Goddess’ body had cindered the place to ash, the power of time and creation tearing the stones from buildings and smashing them to dust. Byleth wandered through the ruins, gasping as she coughed around the dust, running from something. She didn’t know what. Men, her brain supplied, as she slipped in another Nabatea’s blood, slicking her sandal.

“FATHER!” It was Flayn’s voice that ripped through the air, as she scrambled forwards.

“CETHLEANN!” She heard in reply, rounding a corner to see Cichol sat in a puddle of her mother’s blood.

“Mother…” She felt hot tears burn down her cheeks before Seteth clutched the body closer, grabbing his daughter’s hand.

“Come…Cethleann, quickly. This place…Your mother.” His words made no sense, but she followed, scrambling onto her father’s Wyvern before soaring into the sky, back to the coast.

Back to where they should have stayed that day.

Images, flashes of them at least, flashed through her as she flowed through time, watching life and death move around her, but never able to touch them or change it. Sothis had been trapped, she realised, locked inside of her gruesome body before Byleth came along and allowed for her to live once more, merging her spirit to her own. She pressed her hand to her heart and felt nothing stir, knowing now that it was the crusted draconic heart of an ethereal woman, or rather, the Goddess that created all that they know. She watched Flayn and Seteth bury the woman they called mother and wife, and then slipped between flashes of the past, watching Seteth drink with his brothers at his wedding then watching him chase them around as a child. It all blurred into a mess of images as she reached forwards, propelled away from the strange floating state and back into her own body, hearing the cries of Sothis’ children as she was thrown away.

“Byleth…By the Goddess, please speak to me, my dear!” Seteth cried out as her eyes shifted. Byleth stiffened as she felt grass beneath her, thinking it to be another dream before hands clutched her face.

“Byleth?! Can you hear me?!” Seteth examined her closely before her eyes opened slowly, “Oh thank the Goddess.” He deflated as she awakened, grabbing her hand as she looked around the clearing in a daze. Her stomach ached from having been laid on her back, and Byleth allowed Seteth to help her up as she gazed at him.

His eyes were slitted once again, the worry evidently having gotten to him, and Byleth reached gently for him before holding his face, fingers dipping under his chin, “I saw the past…Through Sothis’ eyes…I…I saw everything. I watched Zanado fall. The blood. I felt agony as Sothis’ body was torn to pieces.” She felt a tear drip over her cheek, feeling time pulse in her hands, her crest flaring to life in her palms as she felt the creators power flow deep through her.

Green flames danced down her fingers as she cupped her husband’s face, “I can give you that life back…Seteth. I could reverse the flow. I could take it all away, my love. This world would be gone.” The green flames licked at his hair, and Byleth watched the fire reflect in Seteth’s eyes as he watched her in awe. The Goddess’ hair rippled to life, flowing upwards, alight with the holy fire as she leaned forwards to kiss his cheek, burning the whisper of power into his skin.

“Byleth, stop…This is not you.” He offered meekly as he felt oppressive power flood through him.

She pushed back his hair and trailed the tips of his ears, “One of the last of my Nabatea…My beautiful Saint Cichol. Loyal and honourable. Alone with only your daughter left.” She kissed his other cheek and offered him her hands, “Would you not prefer to go back? To have your wife again?” Her eyes were white, green flames rolling up her cheeks, setting all her skin ablaze, yet none of it burned him.

Before he could pull away, she smiled, “I know that’s not what you want.” She hummed as the fire went out, dipping back into her palms, “But let me give you back that which you have lost.” The Goddess pressed her hands to his head and Seteth felt fire burn through his veins, “Dragon-fire.” She whispered before Byleth collapsed against his chest. Seteth struggled to grab hold of her as his muscles seared with agony, the fire burning in his veins. He laid his wife in the grass, crawling away before looking at the backs of his hands. His crest burned into the back of his skin, bright with a deep clay colour. The sign of the Earth Dragon. He shook violently as something coiled inside, tighter and tighter before it surged through him in a wave. Seteth howled as his face cracked and snapped, shifting outwards, spit dripping over his hands as he shifted again, though into something that resembled the power he used to hold. The true power of a Saint.

He coiled low to the ground, small wings reaching out to claw into the ground, armoured plates shining deep forest green as he filled the clearing, huge bulk tight with muscle. He listened as his eyes grew used to seeing, blinking and rolling in his skull. His tail slammed into the floor, littered with spikes, a lethal weapon if whipped. His eyes shifted in the guard over his eyes, antlers and horns dipping low as he tried to remember how to see through the plating. It prevented much of his upwards vision, and he turned his head upwards to see birds screeching in the air. Fear shocked through him as he remembered Byleth, and the dragon’ huge bulk proved cumbersome as he shifted, spotting her laid in the grass, heavily pregnant and out cold.

The dragon cooed at the sight as he moved over her, laying her tiny body next to his head with a great taloned paw. Moss and vines cascaded over his sides and he shucked her beneath the coverings and his small clawed wing, preventing her from being burned by the sun. The spines and plates on his back grew warm as he looked at his little wife, feeling the power of his Earthly crest burning through him, giving him newfound power. It was power he had not had since he was a century old, and the dragon crooned at the sky, laid next to his mate, standing guard as he waited for her to wake.

Hot breath on her body woke her up. Byleth blinked awake, her hands moving to her stomach on reflex, clutching her belly as she looked up at a leathery, plant covered canopy. It was cool beneath the moss and vines and Byleth sat up only to see breathing scales and stalagmites. She gasped softly and pressed her hand to the huge body next to hers. The scales quivered before she felt the mass heave, the wing moving upwards enough to reveal her to the great beast standing guard over her. She squinted at the evening sun as green scales glittered, rainbows casting off the beast as its head swooped in low, claws crushing the earth as it turned an eye to her, the top of it covered with a plated guard. The entire beast was low to the ground, head wide, with either side placed with the same stalagmites and horns, pointed and lethal. Horns and a pair of antlers curled together on its head and she looked at the forget-me-nots that grew around them with soft eyes. The woman gazed at the length of the huge monster and smiled at the growth of plants among the rocky plains of its back.

An earth deity.

“Seteth?” The beast grumbled softly, pressing its horned nose closer to her, deep clay coloured eyes glinting in recognition, and Byleth held her arms out for its head, holding his nose as he pressed it to her stomach.

“It is I, my love.” The voice rumbled through the clearing, deeper and rougher, but unmistakably her husbands.

“How…How did you manage this?” She asked in wonder as he stroked his face.

“Dragon fire.” He rumbled before opening one of his great hands, talons unfurling to reveal his crest burning bright under his skin, “The Goddess…She gifted me it back, through you…Do you not remember?” He asked, tongue heavy in his mouth as he struggled to speak a language she could understand.

“I remember memories…But nothing else.” She confessed as she felt heat melt into her palms from his scales and leathery skin.

“The Goddess spoke to me, through you…She said she would reverse the world if only I asked, but…” He closed his eyes, “There would not be a world for me without you in it. The past is dead and gone, no matter how much I so wish for it to come back, and I must enjoy what I have now.” Seteth dipped his head, moss curling down and over his face, tickling her face as he snorted some of it away.

 “Can you shift back?” She asked quietly as he sniffed at her hair, comforting himself that she was in fact alright.

Seteth opened his mouth a little, tongue curling against his rows of sharp teeth as he yawned, “I believe so…It will simply hurt.” He stood and shook himself, spreading his small wings before hooking them into the ground, crawling along away from his wife, dragging grass and dirt with his great tail.

“Be careful.” Byleth offered meekly, standing at the edge of the clearing, watching Seteth look at the treetops before he closed his clay coloured eyes and breathed, smoke curling from between his lips. She thought of Dragon Fire as the flames leaped from the ground, covering him in bright energy as he let out a screech. As the light faded, Byleth opened her eyes and watched Seteth catch himself in the dirt, palms pressed to the grass as he heaved, trying to catch his breath. Byleth rushed over to help him up, feeling the heat in his hands as he accepted the help getting to his feet. Something felt whole within him as he gazed at the smile on his wife’s face.

“That is amazing…” She offered still looking at him in awe, “Will our child…” Byleth dared not ask.

“Truthfully, I do not know. You are human by origin…I think. I have never seen such a union.” Seteth offered as he carefully rewrapped Byleth in his cloak, looking at the evening sky as he rolled his shoulders, “Come now, my love, before the cold comes. You are sensitive now to such things and illness.” He chastised.

Byleth rolled her eyes, “Really, my love? You just spoke to the spirit linked with mine and you are lecturing me about the cold?” She laughed at him then, full bodied laughter that rang in his ears.

“I know not how you combined your power with Hers…But it was…” He remembered the flames coating her body and swallowed, “If one wasn’t a believer…then they would be after seeing such a sight.” He promised, breathless for a moment before he linked his arm with Byleth’s, “Somehow she gave me my powers back…My full-fledged powers, and I…I didn’t remember how good it felt.” He gave a giddy laugh and rolled his shoulders again, “I can fly again, my love.” He whispered.

Byleth turned to face him, clutching his face, “And you will fly…Though maybe we should welcome this one into the world first?” She joked.

“But of course!” Seteth stuttered before resuming leading her back once again, “Soon our child will be with us as well…And I can protect the two of you.” He looked into Byleth’s light green eyes and smiled, “I love you, Byleth.”

“I love you too, Seteth.”

Chapter Text

“Where is my husband?!” Byleth screamed at the midwives as they fussed around her bed, bringing fresh warm towels and hot water to her bedside. Her waters had broken not moments ago, and she was lucky enough to grab a maid. It was late at night, and Seteth was undoubtedly working late with the recent training the Knights were undergoing. Still, her mind whirred with the pain, and her husband was a much-needed comfort as Flayn and Mercedes rushed into the room, Manuela following, one eye open and her hair mussed around her head.

“Archbishop!” Manuela commanded with a scowl, “Compose yourself, woman!” She demanded as she heaved her bag onto the edge of her bed watching as Flayn moved with Mercedes to lay out the towels beneath her bottom.

“Its increasingly difficult to remain calm when my child is tearing at my insides!” Byleth hollered again as contractions rippled through her stomach, the muscles squeezing painfully tight. Manuela took a deep breath before opening her bag, pulling out a tonic to help with Byleth’s pain before she dipped to look between her legs.

“Get that tonic down you, Archbishop. Then you better start pushing!” Manuela flicked her hair from her face and rubbed her eyes as Flayn pressed her hands together with Mercedes, the two of them wishing for strength from the Goddess.

“Byleth!” Flayn clutched one of her Stepmother’s hands, “He will be here soon, but for now, remain strong. You must start pushing to stop the child from suffocating inside of you.” Her eyes were serious, and Byleth took rapid breaths as she clutched Flayn’s hand tight, her other digging into the bedding and towels.

“You…You promise that Seteth is on his way?” Byleth asked, feeling her eyes fill with hot tears. She gripped Flayn’s hand tighter, taking shaky breaths as she attempted to calm herself.

“I promise, Byleth. Someone is already running to fetch him…No doubt he has fallen asleep at his desk.” Flayn gave her a sure face, holding Byleth’s hand tightly as she shifted her bottom, moving her weight on top of the bed to try and settle herself ready to push.

Mercedes quickly moved to assist her, settling a pillow beneath her hips before smiling, “You’ve faced a lot worse than this, Archbishop! You just have to stay strong.” Her soft voice was gentle as she pulled Byleth’s hair away from her face with an old ribbon.

“Thank you, Mercedes…” She smiled weakly before looking at Manuela.

Manuela fussed between her legs before climbing onto the bottom of the bed, “Now, Archbishop, we’re ready for you to start pushing.” She didn’t finish her sentence.

Byleth took a breath before beginning to push, red in the cheeks with the effort of it. Pain laced up her sides as the baby shifted, moving into the birthing canal, stretching it wide. The howl of agony that came with it made the women in the room jump, looking at the professor as she clenched her teeth and pushed again, letting go of Flayn’s and Mercedes’ hands in favour of bunching the sheets in her fists.

“Well done, Byleth!” Manuela encouraged from between her legs, “Keep going, my dear!” She held Byleth’s knees as she continued to push and howl, annoyed with the viciously painful cramping in her tummy.

“I AM PUSHING!” Byleth screeched as she pushed again, “Goddess, Manuela, I am!”

A while passed with more pushes, each more agonising than the last. Mercedes cooled Byleth’s forehead, wiping away the sweat with a cold cloth as the Archbishop panted against the sheets, mumbling in pain before pushing the woman away and pushing again.

“I can see the beginning of the head!” Manuela shouted patting Byleth’s knee, “TOWELS, QUICKLY!” She screeched at the maids as she moved to be ready for the child’s head.

“WHERE. IS. MY. HUSBAND!?” Byleth snapped into the room, watching the maids grow quiet as Mercedes sighed.

Flayn patted her hand gently, “I’m sure he’s on his way! They sent someone to fetch him, I promise…” She looked at the door and gasped when it was thrown open.

“BYLETH!” Seteth moved through the door, his clothes askew and hair a mess. The right-hand looked side to side before spotting her on the bed, legs in the air, women fussing around her, “By the Goddess, I am sorry, my love. I did not mean…”

Manuela stopped his advance with a glare, “I suggest, Seteth, that you remove yourself, if you are going to get in my way.” She was tired, hung-over and completely not willing to deal with the male’s fretting.

“No.” Byleth took a breath as contractions tried to steal her voice, “Let him stay…Please.” She reached for her husband and watching him step around the cougar of a medic. Seteth joined her at the bedside, smiling at Flayn as he took her hand. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before gripping it.

“I trust you didn’t manage to deliver one without me?” Seteth tried, voice tight with worry as he held his wife’s hand.

Byleth grunted before pushing again, “Like the eternal flames I did!” She growled at him, “You’ve done this to me, now you’re going to sit here and let me hold onto you while I get our child into the world.”

Seteth’s blood ran cold as she set her feet into the mattress, “My love, are you not overreacting?” The man hissed in pain as Byleth ground his tendons together in his hand, the bones straining under her unnatural strength.

Mercedes smiled pleasantly from the bedside as Seteth breathed through the pain of his hand being squeezed. A giggle sounded from the woman and Seteth took a breath, composing himself as his wife howled next to him.

“Byleth,” He stroked her hair softly as Manuela shouted something from the end of the bed, “Courage, my love.” His fingers carded through her hair as he kissed her temple, “You are almost there…We almost have our little one.” Seteth reached up to wipe away her tears, shushing her as she hiccupped, heaving in one last, deep breath. Byleth looked at her husband before heaving one last time. She pushed until she was red in the face and gasped as Manuela pulled the baby from her, relieving the pressure in her stomach. She felt the wet slop of the umbilical cord and rush of fluid before she collapsed into the pillows.

“You’ve done it my love.” Seteth gasped into her ear as he watched the women fuss.

“Is it crying? Seteth why is my baby not crying!” Byleth wheezed, grabbing at Seteth’s puffy sleeves.

“Peace, my love. Do not worry. They are cleaning the child. Shhh, do not fret.” Calming, strong hands, stroked at her hair. Byleth gasped and held her breath before a great screech rang through the room. The archbishop sobbed softly into Seteth’s sleeve as the child screamed, water splashing as Manuela and Flayn fought to clean the baby before swaddling it.

“I love you, Seteth.” She whispered, exhausted in the late evening hours from such a harrowing birthing process.

“I love you as well. You have done so well.” Seteth held her face, praising her quietly as their child was quietened and brought over.

Byleth’s eyelids fluttered open just enough to see her child, and she smiled sleepily, hair sticking to the back of her neck as she peered upwards.

“Seteth…I can’t lift my arms.” She stated with a tired chuckle.

The man nodded, throat working around a tight lump as he took the bundle from Manuela, “He’s beautiful, Byleth.”

“We have a son?” She asked, eyes closing gently as she tried to move and see. Pain curled in her muscles as she shifted, and Manuela’s hand stopped her squirming as the woman peeled away the grossly soiled sheets and towels, tucking a thick quilt over Byleth for the time being.

“Yes, my love, we have a beautiful baby son.” Seteth sat on a small stool one of the maids brought him and sniffled before reaching to stroke the soft baby fluff on top of his son’s head, “I love you, Byleth…Thank you for bringing him into this world.” The stoic man sobbed softly, teeth nipping at his lip as he peered down at the new-born which was beginning to calm in his arms.

Seteth paused for a moment to move the swaddling of soft blankets. His eyes softened at the sight of the barely pointed ears. He stayed quiet and tucked the blanket back around his son’s head gently before showing Byleth their new-born.

“Seteth.” She gasped softly, reaching her fingers to gently touch the child’s cheek. Her mouth opened into a soft ‘o’ shape as she looked at his hair, nose and eyes, “He’s beautiful.” She murmured before feeling her throat go tight and her eyes water. The words of her father rang in her head, and for the second time in her life, the woman cried, looking down at the life her and Seteth had created. Fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she smiled and sobbed happily, soft fingertips touching her gurgling baby’s cheeks, admiring their redness and the bubbles of spit blowing out of his mouth.

Seteth felt himself begin to sniffle again, looking down at their child, and to his sobbing wife, he chuckled and reached one arm around her, holding her head to his shoulder before kissing the top of his son’s head and relinquishing him to his mother.

“He looks just like you.” Seteth offered quietly, as Byleth tucked the child into the crook of her arm.

“Of course, he looks like his mother!” Manuela offered from her side, “Have you seen how darn right adorable she is?” She laughed and flicked her hair away from her face, packing her bag before shooing the maids from the room.

“Manuela.” Byleth caught the woman’s wrist gently before she could leave, “Thank you for everything.”

The flustered medic blush before patting Byleth’s hand, “Don’t worry about it, my dear. It’s the least I could do for you after everything you’ve done for me.” She smiled and yawned before cracking the whip with her little work force and ushering them from the couple. Mercedes laughed softly and waved as she exited, leaving Flayn stood at the end of the bed.

Seteth looked to his daughter before holding his hand out, “Flayn…Come here, my dear. You must meet him as well. There is no need to look like a scared fawn.” He chuckled as his eldest child clutched his hand, peering over at the squalling new-born with wide eyes.

“Father…He is perfect.” She whispered as Byleth shushed the child softly, looking over his bright coloured hair, “I hope he has your face.” Flayn giggled, “It wouldn’t do a man much good to have a baby face like…like Byleth.” She chewed her lip before holding out her hands, “Can I hold him?” The girl asked quietly.

Byleth smiled, “Of course you can. He is your brother after all.” She let Flayn take the boy and laughed as Seteth reached to rearrange the baby, already fretting over the child.

“Oh, he is simply wonderful!” Flayn delighted before rocking the baby softly, “I…I don’t’ care that…” She stumbled over her words before steeling herself, looking Seteth in the eyes, “Father, I want you to know, that I don’t care or resent that you married again…Nor do I see this new child as anything but my Brother! I promise you. I just…” Seteth smiled and wiped the tears from his daughter’s face.

“You want us to be a family?” Seteth asked.

“I do! I want us to have a happy family…Like we used to.” The young girl confessed, “I am technically not too old…I slept after my seventeenth year alive. It is not such a strange difference between I and my brother…” She smiled before giving the baby back to Byleth, “I wanted you to know that, Father.”

Seteth felt emotions well in his chest, aching in his heart as he looked to each face in his family. Byleth was thirty now, the war having been over for years, and Flayn still appeared as a young teen in the eyes of many. Their secret would remain just that for a few years yet…though he worried.

“I know that, Flayn. Do not worry. I am…This new life. If he truly is Nabatean…He will not age, Byleth. Suspicions will quickly arise.” Seteth confessed as he looked at his son’s fluffy hair and cute soft nose.

Byleth sighed wearily, “I know this Seteth…But surely my blood. He is part human after all. Perhaps he will grow like one yet?” She rocked their son again before gasping, “Seteth…We…We never thought of names…” She lamented.

Seteth’s eyes widened, “I fear we were far too busy…I remember discussing girl names but you are correct, we never sat and thought about boy names, my love.” He stroked his chin softly, thinking for a moment before he watched his son open his eyes, blinking and blind. The child couldn’t see much yet, but his eyes were dragged towards the sounds of his mother and father, blowing more spit bubbles before he took a breath and began to scream.

Seteth and Flayn jumped in place at the great screech from the child and Seteth peered over before sighing, his hand pressed to his chest, “He simply wants to feed, my love.”

Byleth nodded tiredly before tucking the baby beneath her night shirt, allowing him to latch onto her nipple and begin suckling.

“I cannot think of a name.” She muttered as she watched her baby feed, “I don’t know anything about him apart from his hair and eye colour.” The fierce brown eyes made her think of her own father, and she smiled softly before looking at Seteth for answers.

“He is the grandson of Jeralt. That could be…” Seteth offered.

“No, he…He shouldn’t live in the shadow of my father.” Byleth muttered, “But…He needs something fierce. He caused me no end of bouts of pain. Fiery little boy that he is.”

Seteth smiled, “Then why not something of that meaning?” He touched his son’s head and looked to Flayn who was pinching her chin in thought.

“Do you remember the stories I used to tell you, Flayn? About the Flame Emperor?” Seteth prompted with a fond smile, thinking back on the old fables he used to write for his daughter, and how he would be doing it again for his son.

Flayn gasped when she remembered, “Father! The son who cleansed his father’s corruption! Fionntán! The white flame!” She offered triumphantly, her hands clutched together and curls of hair bouncing around her head.

Byleth looked at her son and knew immediately, “Fionntán. Or Finn for short?” She chuckled and touched her baby’s nose softly, “Little Finn. Our little flame.” She chuckled and looked to Seteth.

“Fionntán. The white flame.” He smiled and sniffled again, “It is a beautiful name for our beautiful boy, my love.” Clutching Byleth close he chuckled as she yawned and reached beneath her shirt to gently take their child from her chest. He had finished suckling a while before their conversation, and he knew she was exhausted, “Sleep, my love, I will look after him.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

“I will leave you both to rest, Father…M…Mother.” Flayn flushed red in embarrassment before scuttling from the room, cursing her own folly quietly. Seteth opened his mouth to try and catch her before she escaped. When he looked back to his wife, she was already asleep. She hadn’t heard Flayn. Seteth felt warm flood his chest as he held his swaddled son, taking him to their wooden cot burping him gently on the way before laying the boy on the soft mattress, covering him with another blanket as he looked at the sun rising over the horizon.

“This truly is the start of a family for us, my darling boy… Fionntán. I love you, my son.” He pressed a soft kiss to his son’s head before moving his armchair, making sure it faced his sleeping wife and child, just in case something was to happen as they slept. With a soft smile, Seteth pulled his journal out from a drawer, taking a quill and ink pot before opening to where he had gotten to with his last fable. He had a reason now to finish the story of the Flame Emperor.

Their child grew at a rather astonishing rate. It wasn’t more than a few months before Byleth began to complain about him growing fat.

“Seteth I am sure a child should not be so heavy.” Byleth lamented as Fionntán grabbed at her hair, babbling and blowing bubbles with great joy.

“I am sure he is growing normally, Byleth.” Seteth sighed before extracting Finn from his mother’s hair and shushing him quietly, “He eats well considering you feed him almost five times a day.” He gave her a look, quirking an eyebrow as if to dare her to deny it.

“I feed him when he cries for it!” She defended her habits with a pout.

“I know, my love, which is why you should not worry. He is simply getting the nutrients he needs.” Seteth bounced Fionntán on his knee in his armchair, speaking to his son about how cute he was as Byleth groaned and flopped onto their bed. Fionntán gurgled in his father’s arms before belching. Seteth was quick to turn his son away from himself as the baby vomited down himself. The happy gurgling quickly turned into screaming.

“That was your fault, my love, since you just watched me feed him.” Byleth smirked from the bed as Seteth curled his nose and moved to change their son into new woollen clothing.

At nearly a year old, Finn was able to babble incessantly, and often took to gurgling to interrupt and mimic any conversation nearby. Byleth found it endearing and always paused to let the child babble away, yet Seteth simply ignored him, often standing in meetings, the boy strapped to his chest with cloth, stoically pretending the baby on his front wasn’t making farting noises and laughing at himself.

“Is something the matter, Knight?” Seteth placed his hands on his hips, Finn mimicking the serious tone with a garbled noise, hands fisting the golden embroidery on his father’s chest.

“N-No, Lord Seteth…I uh…Where did you want the group positioned again?” The Knight focused intensely as Seteth sighed.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself in this place…” Seteth lamented before slapping his hand on the map, pointing and drawing along the road. Finn squealed and chewed his fingers, kicking Seteth’s sides as he reached to try and wrap a hand around his Father’s hair and give it a tug.

“Ah…T-Thank you, Milord. That makes much more sense.” The Knight quickly bowed and scuttled away, maps in hand, and completely at a loss as to just what was said. Seteth sighed as the Knight departed and looked down at Fionntán.

“Knights are strange ones sometimes, my son.” He licked his thumb and rubbed at a mark on his chubby cheek, smiling as his son screeched with delight, catching his fingers only to begin chewing on them, “Come now Finn…Lets take you back to your mother.” Seteth cooed as he gathered his papers and began to move back towards their shared room.

Byleth peered up from her desk as Seteth arrived back in their rooms. She smiled at the sight before her, her son strapped tightly to his father’s chest as he chattered away to their son like he could understand a word of what he was saying.

“I hope the meeting with the Knights went well?” Byleth asked as Seteth handed her Fionntán. The Archbishop cooed at her son softly before bouncing him gently in her lap, jumping her knees up and down to bounce him around.

“They were fine, my love.” Seteth leaned down by the side of her chair and kissed her softly before pulling away and grumbling in distaste, “One had to repeat myself a number of times before he understood a word of what I had asked. It was a simple station rotation. Sometimes I wonder just what calibre of Knight Catherine is allowing into this place.” Seteth lamented before seating himself against Byleth’s desk, “Are you ready for our walk?” He asked as she held Fionntán against her and tidied her papers away.

“Yeah, I think so.” She stood from her desk with a great sigh, stretching her back out as she placed Fionntán on her hip, pushing his mossy coloured hair away from his face as she admired the brightness in his inquisitive brown eyes.

Seteth held his arm out for his wife before he snatched their son, holding him in the crook of his arm.

“Seteth. I am perfectly capable of carrying our son.” She pouted but wrapped an arm through Seteth’s, holding his hand at the end of their intertwined arms.

“I know, my love, but you have been busier than I. Let me carry him for a while. I promise you can have him back soon enough.” Seteth promised as he placed their child on his hip, laughing as he bounced and gurgled, spouting ‘Mama’ and laughing before playfully slapping at Seteth’s sides.

“Be sure to!” She demanded as she stroked a finger over the ring on his finger, smiling brightly as Seteth led her through the halls. Byleth nodded regally to the Knights and other believers as they went past, leaning over Seteth to coo at Finn every now and then.

“Byleth, please, you can have him in a moment!” Seteth chuckled before kissing his wife on the cheek as they moved out into the gardens and surrounding woodlands. He’d taken care to arrange these walks into her schedule to avoid Byleth being as overwhelmed as she was initially in the role of Archbishop. So far, they had proven useful. Byleth was calmer, and managed the workload better, along side sleeping a little better at night time.

Byleth took a deep breath as they broke away from the path and smiled, looking up into the trees, “I love it out here…It makes me feel like myself.” She confessed before looking at her son, white robes twirling as she reached for the baby, “And I do think it’s my turn now to have my son!” She grinned.

Seteth rolled his eyes before relinquishing Fionntán to her, “Our son, Byleth. He is part of us both.” He teased as she took her baby, cooing softly as she pinched one of his cheeks, laying the child down in the crook of her arm. Fionntán had begun eating solids now and she tutted at the dribblings of mushed up banana down his front before Seteth offered her a handkerchief from his pocket. Byleth chuckled and wiped the drool away as they walked, enjoying a comfortable silence before Seteth wound his hand into her own. Fionntán gurgled and leaned against his Mother’s shoulder, shouting at the birds whenever they flew past, much to their amusement.

“Fionntán, no. Do not disturb the birds.” Seteth chastised his son softly before leading Byleth to the lake.

The lake sat at the base of the mountain, a wide body of water with wide run rivers escaping from the end of it. It was a pretty sight, and Byleth turned Fionntán to the edge of the water.

“See sweetie, its pretty isn’t it?” She chuckled as Fionntán reached for the water and knelt to place him on shaky feet. Seteth walked a few strides before opening his arms.

“Come, Fionntán, to your father!” Seteth smiled brightly as his son squawked and began to walk, Byleth behind him as he stumbled through the grass, steadying him with gentle hands as he reached his father.

“Papa!” Finn gurgled as he flopped into Seteth’s arms.

“Well done, Finn!” Seteth cheered quietly as he raised his son in the air, chuckling as the baby screeched in joy.

“He’s growing so fast.” Byleth whispered over her husband’s shoulder, chuckling softly before she turned to the water and frowned. Her bright eyes looked to the sky, hearing the shrieks of starlings as they flocked away, screaming to one another.

It was then that the ground beneath them grumbled.

Seteth was quick to turn and grab her, the water’s edge bubbling violently as oxygen bubbled to the surface. Splashes of water erupted over the edge as they moved away, watching the water bubble and rise in a wave.

“Byleth!” Seteth dragged her further, hiding Fionntán under his chin as water crashed by their feet, “Come away!” He took her to the tree line as a shadow erupted from the water, liquid splashing over the trees as a great neck shook and reared from the pool, a great armoured shell bobbing behind the beast. Seteth gritted his teeth, pointed ears framed by his hair, fangs gritted before he recognised the beast dripping with pond weed and water. His mouth opened as he looked up at the dark coloured creature.

“Brother?!” He shouted up at the monster. It turned its head and bared a mouth full of teeth, triple lidded eyes opening as its head raced down to meet them, talons curling into the earth as it dragged itself from the lake, raking soil and grass under its feet, “Indech?!” He called again as Byleth took Fionntán from him, holding their son close as the Draconic Saint lowered his great head, turning his muzzle so his eye was level with the both of them.

The dragon lowered its gaze, blinking a moment before it opened its great jaws, “Cichol…” An ushered noise escaped him before he raised his head backwards, “Brother, I have….I…” The beast seemed flustered by its entrance from the lake, “I apologise…for the dramatics of my entrance. I…We have been looking for some time.”

A great scream sounded above them, a plume of dark coloured feathers cascading as another beast joined them. Byleth’s eyes widened as another dragon joined them, scales shining brilliant gold and coal as it joined them, beak snapping in distaste.

“Indech! Are you such a fool that you would spout our origins before a mortal creature!” The second Saint’s tail quivered with anger before it reared its head to snap at the ground, “You would do well to run, human, before I see fit to…” His golden eyes widened as he caught sight of the child, and his furious brother, “Cichol…Brother I did not realise…” His feathers lowered in embarrassment, ruffling along his armoured scales.

“You did not realise!? You would do well to remember yourself Macuil!” Seteth snapped, fangs bared and eyes slitted as he reprimanded his younger brother, “You have no right to speak to her in such a manner!” Indech sat by the edge of the water, shell rocking slightly as he looked to his older brothers, fighting.

A child’s cry caused silence to fall over them.

“Will you behave like adults for one moment.” Byleth uttered as she hushed Finn, shushing her child gently with rocking as she walked towards the brothers. Indech lowered his head softly from the side of the lake, turning away in embarrassment as Macuil’s feathers ruffled once more.

“Adults. Pah, we are older than your history dictates.” Macuil scoffed, folding his wings softly as he perched himself next to the trees, scaly head tilted upwards in distaste.

“Brother you would do well to remember yourself. Not only is this my wife, but she is fused with the powers of the Creator…Someone we long since thought dead.” Seteth confessed softly as he took his son from Byleth, watching her cold eyes assess the men before her, trapped in their ancient forms and with their torment.

“I refuse to believe such a farce.” Macuil drooped his head, beak clicking before Byleth’s face before she reached to grasp him.

The Sky Dragon opened his mouth, tongue rolling over silent words as he looked into her eyes.

“Why…Why can I not see myself in your eyes?” The Saint muttered before Byleth reached upwards along his snout, pressing her fingers to his scales. Seteth held his son closer, feeling the curl of power down his spine, slitted eyes looking over at his wife as something primal rumbled among them. Indech raised his great head, as though he too could hear and feel the pull of the land. Macuil’s golden eyes flickered, looking about the clearing before the woman before him was licked with green flames.

“Byleth!” Seteth took a step closer to her before he was cut off by green flames, “Not again…” He cursed and held Fionntán’s head close, watching Byleth take a breath.

Her breathing quelled the flames and he stepped over them before looking at his brother, the call of her song resonating in his soul. Indech’s body shook the ground as he moved closer, silent and contemplative as her hands clutched Macuil’s great beak.

“I have seen you…In her memories. You were once a man of great intellect. A tactician, clad in feathers and gold.” Byleth took a breath as the cool fire collected in her palms.

Indech’s head came to her side, his dark eye looking deep into the flames, “You are not her.” He muttered around his fangs before looking to his brother, “We came…because of her. Her power.” He muttered before looking to the water again, “Life has returned to even the depths…We could feel it.” Indech opened one great paw, scales grinding as he opened the talons and revealed three identical stones, deep green and perfectly circular.

“Dragonstones…” Seteth whispered in awe, “But how?” He held Finn’s head as the baby reached for Macuil’s beak, covered in fire, aiming to touch his mother’s hands.

“I have protected them…deep in the waters of the ocean…for many years.” Indech’s eyes rolled before he gently pushed them towards Byleth, “But she can use them…To make everything whole. To restore…”

Macuil opened his mouth, “To restore what once was and to heal the broken.” The dragon swallowed, “It has been so many years…I…I cannot imagine the new world.”

Byleth’s hands ran up his head again as she smiled, “The world is better now. You have such hatred of them…Humans are not what they once were, Macuil.” She took her hands away before reaching for the stones, “I can restore the power of the elements, Seteth. I can balance you all once again…” She smiled before fire glittered in her eyes, the crest of flames burning in her forehead. Seteth covered Fionntán’s eyes before he felt scales burn in his skin. His brothers turned their heads before fire burned up their hides. The two dragons roared as the fire glittered, peeling scales away before it was blinding, burning their forms away in a rush of glitter and ash, sparkling over the water in clouds. When they opened their eyes again, they collapsed into the dirt, tongues heavy behind human teeth. Seteth looked to his brothers and his eyes widened, looking at their ancient robes. Indech shook in the grass before he found the strength to raise his helmeted head, scruffy hair flicking out from beneath the metal side plates. His skirt of armour and hard breast plate groaned, stiff with rust as he stood, boots squeaking. Macuil rose in a fluster, cape flapping and hat falling from his head and he brushed his great braid of green hair from his face. Seteth took a step before looking at the ground, the green, scale engraved stones glittering as Byleth moved to hold them.

Macuil dropped to his knees before her, “Forgive me…I was hasty in my words.” He clutched his sword before dropping it before her. Indech silently held his shoulder, face embarrassed as he bowed his head.

“Brothers.” Seteth uncovered his son’s eyes and listened to Finn squeal for his mother. Byleth held the palm sized stones with reverence before she smiled and bestowed one to each of them.

“This is your promise. You will protect Fodlan. You serve only this land, my Saints, and none of you will fail me with this…I would have your word. I will not let this region spiral into anarchy again because of lies.” She held their gazes.

“My love.” Seteth took her hand, letting Finn clutch his mother’s hair, “You know my answer to this.” He smiled before looking to his brothers.

Macuil rose stiffly, “I swear it, upon my honour.”

“I swear it.” Indech whispered as he held the stone.

“Then I will allow you to walk in two bodies, my saints, whole again, and free of your burdens.” Byleth smiled and laughed as Seteth clutched her close. His brothers stood by with smiles before Macuil coughed.

“Brother. I believe we should be introduced…Or rather, reintroduced, and to your new little one.” Macuil’s golden eyes glittered as he gazed at the child. Indech nodded behind him with a small smile. Byleth looked between the brothers and felt herself snicker as Seteth awkwardly moved to give her their baby.

“I know you both. I remember you being hard to beat…Indech especially.” She snickered as Finn tugged at her hair. Indech blushed furiously.

“Indech, you are scared of a woman but immovable in battle!” Macuil shook his head, braid flying as he bowed, “You do us a great honour, Lady Byleth. And honour still marrying our stiff elder brother.” He teased, watching Seteth groan and blush. Indech chuckled behind Macuil as Seteth’s fangs snapped with an audible click.

“Do I have to beat manners into you, Macuil?” Seteth snapped.

“No dearest Brother, but perhaps some would do you good?” Macuil laughed before kissing Byleth’s hand.

“Seteth! You never told me your Brothers were so polite.”

Seteth groaned, and only groaned again as Indech took hold of Fionntán.

Chapter Text

“Fionntán!” Screamed a cook, ladle flying through the door, clattering along the stone before coming to a halt at Seteth’s feet. The advisor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before holding out his hand. He caught his young son by the collar of his tunic, dragging him away from his escape route as he bolted out of the Monastery kitchens. The head cook followed her ladle, red in the face with the heat of her stoves and anger directed towards his youngest child. Fionntán yelped as Seteth’s fingers tightened around his collar, yanking him back to face the fury of the woman he had stolen from numerous times.

“FATHER!” Finn screeched as the cook was upon them both, picking up her ladle from the floor before ducking her head and curtsying at the Archbishop’s advisor, “Don’t make me papa!”

“I suggest you return your stolen assets to Madame Darroze before I see fit to let her make you wash the dishes for a fortnight as punishment for stealing.” His green eyes were cold as he wrangled his son, turning the six-year-old on his feet making sure he could easily grip his tunic again should he try and bolt for the gardens once more. Madam Darroze placed a hand on her hip before holding out one rough hand to Finn.

Fionntán sighed, pouting with large lips and soft cheeks, both traits he had inherited from his mother, determined not to give up his prize. After another huff from the cook and a stern look from Seteth he reluctantly handed over the two muffins and shuffled back towards his stern-faced father.

“I apologise, Madam Darroze. He has been spoken to about this, but I fear he is quite wild at times.” Seteth looked down at Finn once more, “Apologize to Madam Darroze then you can come with me. Your mother has just finished her meeting with King Dimitri, and I am sure you would like to see him and Felix once again?” The bait of seeing the King of the Holy Kingdom quickly caught his son.

Fionntán bowed deeply, holding his pudgy hands together, “I am sorry, Madam Darroze.”

The cook was convinced of his sincerity and took her muffins back through the door, slamming it behind her. Fionntán pouted softly as he turned to face Seteth, looking at his father with puppy eyes that often let him get away with murder, “I’m sorry papa.” Fionntán uttered, scuffing the bottom of his shoe against the flag stone.

He could never stay mad at Finn, just as he could never remain angry with Flayn. Seteth shook his head before scooping his son up into his arms, “So long as you learn from this, Finn, you are forgiven. I cannot be here to protect you all the time from the cooks, and, you will spoil your dinner by eating such treats. You know your mother insists you eat with us.”

Fionntán pouted into Seteth’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his father’s neck, “I never get to have muffins, Papa.” He whined, turning his head to look his father in the eye.

“You do get treats, Finn. There isn’t a day that you don’t get a muffin after your dinner. Your mother even lets you have fruits in the mornings!” Seteth smiled, laughing softly as Finn fisted his hands in the material of his golden cloak.

“But not when I want them!” He grumbled in protest.

“And that is why they are called treats, my son.” Seteth pinched Finn’s nose softly before turning sharply on the path, heading back towards the Archbishop’s private set of rooms and meeting chambers.

“Mama!” Finn was quick to squirm from Seteth’s arms as soon as the man opened the door to Byleth’s private meeting chamber. Sure enough, the woman was sat with Dimitri, tea in hand, laughing softly at something the King of Faerghus had said.

“You are still terrible at jokes, Dimitri.” Her warm light green eyes were quick to fall on her son, “Fionntán, my little fire starter.” She cooed as Fionntán climbed up into her lap. Byleth placed her tea back on its saucer before holding Finn in her lap, smiling down at her boisterous son as he slapped the table.

“Dima, King of Faerghus, I challenge you to a duel!” The announcement was met with their son scrambling to get onto the table, pointing at the great lion of a king with a grin. It reminded Byleth of Caspar. The boy was boisterous and loud, sure of his own strength and power, and willing to test it out at a moment notice.

“Finn! Get down off that table…” Seteth exclaimed with a huff, moving to remove his headache of a child.

Dimitri’s great laughter made Byleth laugh as well. The two of them curled over their tea, laughing brightly.

Dimitri wiped at his eyes before holding up a hand, “Don’t worry yourself, Seteth.” He smiled before patting his lap, “Come here, Fionntán.” He took Finn from his father’s grip gently and set the boy on his knee, an arm wrapped around him. Finn looked up with wide brown eyes, his hair falling out of the ponytail his father had tied it into earlier in the day.

“Have you heard the stories of the Ashen Demon?” Seteth felt Byleth stiffen a little beneath his hand, “She was void of emotion, alone in a world that only wanted her to kill, until she met a group of young officers. Teaching them eased the ice in her heart and allowed for her to begin to feel once more. A cub of a prince took to her tutelage, believing that she would allow for him to let go of his thirst for vengeance. She disappeared, after a great battle, defending her students, and awoke five years later, amid a war and chaos. The man she returned to find was a grizzled lion of a man, broken and mean, cruel and cold, and missing an eye from his torment by the ghosts of his past. She healed him, once again, just as she did five years ago, and together they stopped a war.”

“But what does that have to do with fighting you?” Fionntán asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well that Lion King, is I, little soldier.” Dimitri chuckled and tapped the patch over his eye, “So, to fight me, you need to carve yourself a legend first. By which I mean, you are far too young to play at fighting and warfare.” He finished before laughing, offering Finn a soft pastry filled with jam and dried fruit.

“I can do that! Just watch me! I’m going to train with Duke Fraldarius and everything!” Finn announced.

“If you wanted to train with me, you’d have to come north, into the cold, boy.” Felix’s icy tone cut in from behind Dimitri. The man had been leaned over the table, studying and finalizing the plans laid out by the Archbishop and King.

Sylvain scoffed from the balcony, “Fraldarius territory? Cold? Felix you haven’t been to the tip of Gautier territory enough.” He laughed brightly before grunting, feeling the crack of a closed inkpot against the base of his skull.

“Watch your mouth Sylvain, or next time I might crack you with some lightning instead.” The man hissed, rolling his eyes as he rolled the maps back together, taking a sip of brewed Four Spice tea. Seteth had already partaken in the rare blend himself, thankful that Byleth adored stocking it for him.

“You wont and you know it Felix!” Sylvain sung from the balcony, sipping his own blend of tea with a laugh, picking up the closed inkpot as he headed back inside, battle skirt swishing over heavy armour. The two had evidently come straight from their own territories for this route discussion.

“I’ll train with both of you!” Fionntán announced, slapping his chest proudly before Seteth leaned over and gave him a cup of water.

“You will do no such thing until you are of age. And that won’t be until you are at least fifteen.” In truth he would rather train his son himself, within the walls of the monastery, but he knew even with his training, Finn would not learn the skills he wanted. Seteth could not teach him to ride a horse, but he knew the idea of riding a Wyvern was the same as a horse. He hoped simply to not have his son fledge the nest too quickly, but perhaps the cold of the Kingdom would allow for him to learn plenty. Dimitri would no doubt accept the boy into his court.

“Not yet, Fionntán, but in the future I will grant you leave to go where your heart desires, and, if that is to train in the Kingdom, then so be it.” Byleth promised her son, “I know Dimitri would be honoured to have you.”

“But of course! I would treat him as my own.” Dimitri promised after taking a sip of Chamomile tea.

Seteth felt himself ruffle at the statement, “Yes. In time, but not today.” He said sharply before moving to take his son back from the King’s lap. His green eyes flashed dangerously as jealously coiled in his heart. He knew that Dimitri’s feelings had never faded for his wife, and now to see him willing to treat his son as his own? It lit a fire in his gut as the green-eyed monster rose to force his tongue to lash. He simply took Finn gently and urged his son away before kissing Byleth’s hair line, remembering only at the last moment to get Fionntán’s snack from the table to quell his complaining.

“I will see you in our rooms, my love, when you have finished here.” Seteth then turned, gently coaxing Fionntán out of the door. Byleth opened her mouth to stop him but he was already out of the door with their son in tow. He only sighed in relief after the wood was closed, holding Fionntán’s hand tightly as he led him at a gentle pace to their rooms.

“Papa?” Fionntán asked softly, “I won’t go away if it makes you upset.” Finn sniffled before beginning to sob quietly, dropping his treat onto the stone floor as he rubbed at his eyes. Seteth’s heart tore in two at his son.

“No, Finn, shhh.” He leaned over and picked the six-year old up, rubbing his back soothingly as he ducked into their chambers, “I’m not upset that you one day want to leave. It is natural, to wish to broaden your horizons.” His son stopped bawling and gazed at him with dark brown eyes. They were almost black in the waning light, “I…I simply want you to be safe.”

“Will I not be safe in the Kingdom, Papa?” Finn asked between his sniffles.

“It is not that the Kingdom is unsafe…It is just…You are different, my son. You are two parts of two different races. You….” He rubbed at his temples before smiling, “You are part of your mother and part of me, but in your heart.” Seteth pressed a finger to Finn’s chest, “You possess the heart of your mother but my blood. You cannot tell anyone, Finn, not a soul.” After a moment he gritted his teeth and took his son into his lap, “You are the last of an ancient race. A race of warriors, scholars and lovers, just as the humans are, but you will never be like them. The other children, you have seen how they are already older than you, yes?” A soft nod was his answer and Seteth smiled wearily, “While the King ages, we shall not. You…Goddess.” He shook his head, “Forget about it for now, my son, just…Be careful? You will give your poor father a heart attack should you come to any harm.”

“I promise to be careful, Papa.” Finn said before hugging Seteth tightly.

“That’s all I could ever ask for, my son.”

It was an hour later when Byleth entered their rooms. Finn often fell asleep as soon as the sun went down, so Seteth had bathed him and put him to bed early, sure that he would quickly fall asleep. After that, he sat waiting anxiously on his and Byleth’s shared bed, playing with his fingers as he strung the words together in his head that he needed to apologise to Byleth with.

When she walked through the door, they escaped his grasp, and he was left with a lead tongue in his mouth, “Byleth…”

“I understand that you are jealous but your behaviour before the King…Was that necessary, my love?” Byleth gave him a look of upset, her brows furrowed as she sat at her vanity and peeled the combs from her hair, letting the locks falling down her back. Seteth’s lips pinched tightly as he moved to help her. His long fingers quickly began undoing the braids in her hair, pulling slides and flowers from the arrangement with a wistful smile. It reminded him of their wedding day, scribbled into their schedules and hastily performed under Rhea’s shaking hands. She was weak from her imprisonment but insisted on performing the union ceremony. Occasionally he could still see the glittering gold magic wrapped around their wrists.

After a few minutes sorting Byleth’s hair, Seteth found the air to talk, his tongue still pathetic in his mouth, “What I did was childish and inappropriate.” He confirmed before undoing another cascade of braids, “And I apologise for it, my love.” He moved around Byleth before taking her hand, kissing the back of it before turning it inwards and kissing the sword hardened skin of her palm. He was sincere and leaned over to kiss Byleth’s hairline gently.

“I accept your apology, but you cannot hate Dimitri. I know…I know it is hard. He still loves me, and I know that, but he is the King of this land now, and still my friend, Seteth.” She squeezed his hand, “I would never betray you for him. You know that.” She smiled and reached up to pull him down into a kiss. It was warm, their mouths meeting for a few moments.

Seteth pulled away and stroked Byleth’s cheeks, “I don’t doubt you…I simply dislike another holding a desire for you, I suppose.” The holy man felt his cheeks go hot, and he was quick to kiss her again, nudging her nose softly, opening his mouth before encouraging Byleth’s open.

She smirked into the kiss before holding her husband’s chin in a tight grip, “A jealous dragon then?”

“Yes. A particularly jealous one.” He grumbled in her grasp, the fingers of one hand trailing down Byleth’s side, tickling the skin.

After another soft kiss, Seteth pulled away, content that Byleth wasn’t upset nor wanting rid of him, “I… Fionntán was upset. He thought I was upset that he wanted to leave.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow before making her way to her screen, taking her clothes off behind it before pulling a sheer nightgown on over her naked form, “You are upset, though I think you’d let him get away with actually killing someone if he batted those eyes at you.” She teased as she laid herself over the covers, patting the bed, wanting Seteth laid next to her. Seteth took his clothing off, laying his boots by the door before he hung his cloak and took off his soiled tunic and trousers. They were covered in dirt from the Knight training he had overseen. He pulled on a pair of cotton bottoms and laid on the bed next to his wife, taking her ringed hand in his own as he confided in her.

“I am upset, but I do not wish for him to remain locked at my side forever…That is why I told him about why I am worried. I explained about his blood, though I fear he is too young to understand completely what it means.” He sighed and closed his eyes as Byleth stroked his hair, her fingers stroking the tips of his ears as she soothed his frayed nerves.

His wife didn’t make a noise, her teeth nipping at her bottom lip as she thought on what he had done, “We still don’t know if he is Human or Nabatean, my love, he may still…”

Seteth’s eyes opened, his age reflecting in them as he reached a hand to cup Byleth’s cheek, “Do you remember…” He choked on his own words, “My wife. Flayn is special because she is my daughter, but she has her own crest. She is the product of…Of my folly and my love. My wife was human, Byleth.” He felt her stiffen. Byleth looked at him with cold eyes, a reminder of years past, when he had been nothing but cruel to her, and took a breath, her fingers falling from his cheek.

“You never thought to tell me this?” She whispered, the anger hard in her voice, “Even when you knew our child could have been the same?!” Byleth’s voice rose quickly and she splayed her fingers over his chest, “You knew and didn’t think about telling me, did you?!”

“Byleth, please, I thought…” Seteth grabbed for her wrist as she pushed herself across the bed.

“You thought that he would be different? Please tell me why? Just because I fused with the Goddess doesn’t make me her!” She shook with anger as she snatched her wrist away, hugging her arms around herself, “You’re just like everyone else…Seeing me as her. Just like Rhea.”

Seteth felt fury burn his veins at her words. She had intended for them to hurt him and hurt him they did. To compare his motives to that of Seiros. He was disgusted, and the sneer on his lips showed as much.

“How dare you compare me to her!” His voice shook, eyes glinting with untapped power, “I never wanted what Rhea wanted of you. Sothis is dead! She has been since I was merely a century old. I would never wish for her in the place of you, nor would I want to…To use you!” His hands flew to grab her arms, tugging her around to face him, “Why would you think so little of me?” His voice was choked with emotion as he let go of her clutched arms, reaching one hand to touch her cheek. A tear glittered in the corner of her eye before rolling down her face. Seteth wiped it away with his thumb, “I see you as the woman before me, I see you as yourself, Byleth. No amount of Godly power could change that.” He kneeled up on the bed and kissed her softly, reverently, fingers touching her waist before falling to her hips. The defensive clutch of her arms fell to hold Seteth’s face, pushing his hair away from his cheeks, cupping his chin and playing in the hair of his trimmed beard.

Byleth pulled him away, pressing their foreheads together, admiring the glow to the crest on the backs of Seteth’s hands, a reminder of the creature he was beneath his human guise, “I’m sorry, my love. That was… uncalled for. Forgive me?” She asked as she pulled his hair back in her hands.

“All is forgiven…I am sorry as well, my treasure, I should have told you years ago.” He confessed, pressing their noses together.

“Mama? Papa?” Fionntán’s tired voice came from their doorway. He was tiredly rubbing at his eyes, peering through a small gap in the door, his blanket clutched in his fist, “I heard you two fighting.” He pouted softly as he trudged towards their bed, “I’m sorry…Its because I said I wanted to go away isn’t it?” The young boy sniffled behind his thick green blanket.

Byleth rushed over, kneeling down to kiss her son’s face over and over, “No baby. Mummy and Daddy were just worried about one another… None of this was your fault.” She pushed his long hair out of his face and smiled at the pointed tips of his ears, “Come on, do you want to sleep in our bed?” She offered. When Finn nodded she picked him up with a huff and jumped back into bed. Her son squealed happily before grabbing the dragon embroidered pillow from his father, sticking his tongue out playfully as he wriggled under the mountain of blankets, smack in the middle of them both.

“I suppose you can have that pillow.” Seteth teased, “But only if you give your father a kiss for it.”

“Papa!” Fionntán whined before grumbling and kissing Seteth’s cheek sweetly, snuggling back against his mother as she too moved under the sheets. Byleth smiled before reaching to link her hand with Seteth’s placing them over the top of their son. Seteth kissed them both and blew out the lamps before he could close his eyes, rubbing the ring over Byleth’s finger as they dropped off together, lumped in their large bed.

Their arguments that day had allowed for Fionntán to spread his wings in the coming years. Seteth had allowed for the boy to have a blade, but only in the practice areas. He gave a proud smile when his son picked up a lance and enjoyed the movement more, throwing aside his short sword to face his father with the short spear. Byleth and Seteth often sparred after he had finished training their son. Fionntán was always quick to run off and find some other teens to grapple with and left them to their own devices. She enjoyed twirling out of the way of the blade of an axe, her body finally beginning to feel fit again after the childbirth. Flexing her white magic abilities on their cuts and scrapes made her feel useful once more as well. She always placed a kiss to Seteth’s cuts after healing them and Seteth returned it with a kiss to her face. By the end of it she was often smothered with pecks, the two of them laughing against a pillar in the training yard until Fionntán returned and crowed at them to take their kisses elsewhere, determined to show the other teens a new move Seteth had taught him. It took him a year before the lance wasn’t enough, and Seteth reluctantly let him see his uncles.

“Uncle Macuil!” Fionntán hollered into the Wyvern keep, looking between the scaly creatures for his stuffy uncle. The creatures grumbled and skittered in the air as a man peered down from his suspended platform. He often came here to study the creatures, and so had created himself a platform in the roosts to speak with the creatures and analyse them.

“Fionntán? Does your father know you are here?” Macuil was no fool, and quickly jumped from the platform, a gust of high-power wind magic catching him and cushioning the landing. The feathers around his neck rustled as he grumbled and shrugged off his cloak, “You know he dislikes you being with the Wyverns. They are not kind creatures to those they do not know.”

“He knows, I promise.” The teen confessed as he perched himself on a rock not covered with Wyvern faeces, “I wanted to ask you to teach me.”

Macuil’s bird like eyes observed him before he tilted his head, “Teach you what? Magic? Or about the Wyverns that your father so adores.” He chuckled before seating himself next to his nephew.

“No, stuff to fight with. Papa taught me the lance for over a year, but I need to learn more…I can’t just rely on a blade.” He confessed; dark eyes almost black in the gloom of the Wyvern roost.

“Very well then. I can teach you a little magic…though if you are like your father you will be able to do little more than create enough wind to turn a book page.” Macuil sighed and straightened his long tunic out, flicking his braid over his shoulder before he stood and centred himself, reaching into his tummy to search for the curl of magic, “Here, Fionntán, give me your hand.” The boy gently took his uncle’s hand and waited, watching the man scowl.

“What?” Finn asked, looking at his palm before Macuil dropped his hand lamely.

“There isn’t a drop of magic about you boy. Go and find your Uncle Indech, he will teach you something that Seteth cannot.” With another gust of magic the bored mage was back within his hovel, scribbling with a quill and chattering to a female Wyvern.

“Hey! Wow…Papa was right about him being an ass.” He stormed from the keep in search of his other Uncle, and the stalwart warrior, Indech.

Indech was by the pool, his feet in the cold water and hands poised over the rippling waves of the pond. There was still thousands of fish here, even after his mother’s famed rabid search for a fish to make his sister Flayn feel better over…well it was perhaps 20 years ago.

“Uncle Indech...” He didn’t finish his sentence as a large hand halted his advancement. The man was perched over the water and Finn stood still as he watched the warrior grunt and grapple a great Queen’s Loach from the water. The fish was about as long as the warrior’s arm and Indech drew a knife quick, sliding it through the animal’s eye to quickly end it’s suffering.

“What is it?” The low timbre of his uncle’s voice drew him back to the present.

“AH…I have a question to ask of you Uncle Indech.” Fionntán walked to the edge of the pier and sat down next to the massive man. Indech was a wall of muscle, and Finn scowled at the schoolgirls who were chattering from the other side of the pond. His uncle looked over and grew red in the face, hiding his face behind his hand as he moved to grab his tunic, though it clung to him anyway due to the water rolling down his chest. Indech grew even more flustered and took Finn by the arm, dragging him inside to the Greenhouse.

“Uh…Uncle Indech? Are you okay?” Finn tapped his own cheeks as an indication and watched the warrior rub at his cheeks, as if trying to remove the embarrassed blush across them. He didn’t mention his red neck or ears and left it alone, “Anyway. I wanted to ask you if you could teach me a new weapon. Father wants to teach me how to heft an axe, but I don’t see the point. I don’t want to flail around something that we use for cracking logs.” He whined and watched Indech scratch at the back of his neck, quiet and contemplative, as always.

“Not the sword either?” He asked softly, tapping the blade at his own hip.

Finn shook his head, “He tried as a child, but I was never good at the balance…I don’t know. Maybe the bow? You…” He lowered his voice, “You were famous for being able to snipe Wyvern from the sky, weren’t you?” Fionntán’s glee and excitement made his uncle smile.

Indech nodded, “Yes. I could. Though it will take years of practice for you to hit such a quarry.”

“I know…So? You will teach me? Please, Uncle!” Finn grabbed his uncle’s arm and pouted as best he could.

“I will. Meet me tomorrow at daybreak. I will find you a bow…” He eyed his tall nephew and hummed, “A bow large enough…I will make sure it will not be strong enough to break your arms.” Indech wandered out of the Greenhouse and jumped at the gaggle of women before rushing away, hiding his ears behind his hair as he ran for the dinning hall, his fishing prize hooked on his fingers by the gills and slung over his shoulders.

Their dinner was taken in private. Seteth had invited his brothers, more for the purpose of finding out what Fionntán had asked of the two of them. He knew immediately that Macuil would divulge the information. Indech was the one that often kept his son’s secrets, such was his love of him, and of Flayn. Byleth swooped in, dressed informally as she seated herself by Seteth, grinning before noticing the upset in her husband’s eyes. Fionntán was late, but that was common for their energetic son.

“Macuil.” He started, steepling his hands over his dinner plate.

Macuil raised an eyebrow at his brother, “Yes, dearest brother of mine.” He sneered back at Seteth.

“I heard that Fionntán was running around all day after the two of you? Would you care to indulge me as to what he was after?” Seteth tilted his head and watched his brother grin behind his tome, anger curling in his chest.

“Oh, I could tell you, brother, but it would spoil the surprise.” The sky dragon stated cryptically before placing his tome down, folding his small spectacles and placing them on top of the leather cover.

Seteth turned his attention to his quiet and stoic brother, “Indech?” He tilted his head and watched the water dragon mutter to himself, “What did he come and speak to you about?”

Indech looked Seteth in the eyes and huffed, “He simply wishes to learn a new weapon. He is not a child, Cichol, you cannot mother him so…Even more than his own Mother that is.” Indech lowered his head to Byleth and watched Seteth sit back in distaste, a scowl on his face as he sucked on his cheeks, looking very sour in a simple minute.

“My love.” Byleth poked his ribs, “He is right. If Fionntán does not wish to learn the axe, then you cannot force him. Plus, Indech is a good teacher. No harm will come to him, I am sure.” She kissed his cheek and squashed his lips together, watching the frown melt from her husband’s face.

Fionntán took that moment to make his entrance, huffing as though he had sprinted from the courtyard, “Ma…I’m sorry I’m late…” He flopped into his seat at the side of Seteth and took a long drink from his tall mug of water.

All eyes in the room were on him. Byleth took her own drink and sipped at the water before smirking around her husband, “We heard that Indech will be teaching you how to handle a bow, my dear! Are you excited?” She signalled for everyone to begin eating.

Indech went quiet and looked to Fionntán, as though waiting for the boy’s permission to speak. The grin that lit up their son’s face made both Seteth and Byleth’s hearts melt.

“Uncle Indech is going to start teaching me tomorrow, Mama!” He grinned before taking a bite of the huge fish Indech had caught at the pond, “I know you want to teach me to ride a Wyvern too, Papa, but I…” He placed his cutlery down and smiled, “I think I want to learn how to ride a horse…Margrave Gautier has such amazing horses from the northern territories. They say those that can break in their black stallions will be heroes of legend!”

Byleth laughed softly and nodded, “I think you will be able to do it, my little fire sprite, but, if you want to be able to, you’ll need to eat your dinner and get big and strong.”

“Mama! I’m not a child anymore!” Fionntán whined as she leaned around Seteth to tug at his cheeks playfully.

Seteth felt his heart grow sad at the idea of his son leaving to go so far north. He looked to Byleth and clasped her hand under the table, linking their fingers tight before he spoke to Fionntán.

“If you want to go north with Margrave Gautier and the King next time they visit…then you have my permission, my son.” Seteth almost wanted to snatch the words back, and he felt grounded as Byleth squeezed his hand, proud of him releasing the reigns a little.

Finn’s eyes went wide, “Are you…You mean it Papa?” When Seteth nodded he stood to hug his father close. The boy was fifteen and set to grow even taller than his father. Seteth hugged him tightly, stroking the hair at the base of his son’s skull before he let go.

“They will be here with the next Garland Moon, almost a year away…I will inform them of your wish to ride with them and learn. The King has always said he would be happy to have you within his court.” Seteth held his son’s shoulders with a smile.

“Thank you, father…Thank you so much.” Fionntán sniffled into Seteth’s shoulder before sitting back down, laughing as he wiped his eyes with a napkin. Byleth gave a small, secretive smile as she looked to her little family, hoping Flayn was enjoying her travelling and having hope for their future together.

Her dream plunged her into darkness. Byleth gasped for air as she opened her eyes in the depths of the cavern. Cold burned her fingertips and chilled her skin as she looked around the coal coloured stone. There was no warmth here, and no water, yet small fungus clumps grew within the porous areas of the stone, creating their own eerie green light. She looked around blindly, hands scraping over the cold floor as she fought to get herself upright. As she looked down the floor rippled and spun, sending her straight back onto her knees. Wind brushed against her face and she looked up to see thousands of tiny mushrooms light up along a huge cavern, embedded even in the ceiling, hundreds of feet above her head. It was a prison. Her brain whirred as she looked around, long light-coloured hair flying as she reached for the tether inside her, tugging at Sothis and her powers, hoping at the warmth of the green flame would appear. It did in the centre of her palm, burning softly against her skin, warming her being as she looked up into the cavern. Another gust of wind blew against her right side, warm now. She took a breath and turned along the rough floor.

A creature breathed again, the hot breath burning her cold thighs as she faced its nostril. She hoisted her green flame higher and looked at the coal coloured scales of a great snake. The black scales glittered softly with flecks of gold and silver. The creature breathed again, and she saw the scales under it’s chin glitter bright purple. In awe, Byleth dared to reach her hand forwards, and watched the green flame snuff out, her hand pressed to the black scales. Some flaked away on her hand and she scowled, reaching her other hand to the beast. It was dormant, barely alive, breathing and sleeping. With a deep breath, her hair curling above her head, she summoned her flames, watching the life dance over her palms. The flames curled around the beast’s giant eye. She gasped as the soulless black orb snapped open, staring at her, looking through her and into the stone attached to her heart. A great forked tongue flicked out of its mouth before venom leaked from the snake’s mouth. It was then that the ground shook, the creature groaning in agony as its huge clawed wings slammed into the stone, flaring the leathery cartilage and its spines before it began roaring with laughter. The black eyes peered at her again, teeth dripping with venom. Byleth stared at the stars glittering in the monster’s eyes before it howled again inside the cave. Laughter bounced around the stone and inside her cranium.

“Oh Creator! Beloved Creator!” The beast lowered its eye to hers again, “It has been far too long…”

Byleth heaved in their bed, hand snapping out, hitting Seteth as she struggled to get up, choking on something as she pushed their bedding away.

“My love!” Seteth grappled her arms and legs, squeezing under her chest, hoping to relieve her of whatever had lodged itself there. She coughed violently before heaving up whatever had settled in her lungs. Black mucus dripped past her lips and sprayed violently over the bedsheets, staining the blankets with the colour of tar. Seteth hugged her close as she took a deep breath, cheeks red, hands shaking against his chest.

“Byleth! Are you alright?” She peered up at the worried green gaze of her husband. She blinked before holding his cheeks.

“I released something terrible…Something…” She spoke tiredly and spat black gloop out again.

“Shhh.” Seteth quietened her, “It was a dream my love…I will bring the physician. You may have an infection.” He gently tucked her under a blanket.

“No, listen to me.” She grabbed his wrist with a frown, “In my dreams. There was a black snake…A Wyrm. I…I woke him in a cave.” Byleth felt her bottom lip quiver, “Seteth, he knew me?”

Seteth felt his blood run cold, “I will fetch Manuela.”

Chapter Text

The physician was completely flustered, her hair a mess as Seteth tore back into the room, the look on his face something Byleth had never seen before. Black dripped past her lips as she tried to gargle out words of comfort. Her stomach heaved as her lungs clenched, a cough spewing a sluice of liquid past her lips, spraying black over the sheets again. The gelatinous substance wobbled before melting into water, black and foul smelling, staining the sheets the colour of charcoal. Byleth retched and reached to cover her mouth as Seteth grabbed for her again, grappling her onto her side as Manuela blasphemed behind him. Her hands shook before she steeled herself and moved to grapple the Archbishop.

“We have to get the liquid off her chest! She will drown!” She screeched at the man before slamming her hand against Byleth’s back, watching black mucus spray from her again, “Keep doing that! I have something to help, but it will hurt.” Manuela scrambled for her medical kit as Seteth made Byleth heave more liquid off her chest, her chin wet and running with black fluid.

“MANUELA!” His fists clenched in Byleth's nightgown as she gasped, cheeks beginning to turn from red to purple, eyes red and rolling.

“Hold her!” Seteth did as he was told, and Manuela held a great needle in her hand, tearing Byleth's nightgown up to see her ribcage.

The physician took a shuddering breath before sliding the needle deep, the tubing attached sitting outside of the woman as she pierced the lung. Black liquid rushed out of the tube, splattering against Manuela’s slippers before a helper rushed to place it into a bed pan. Byleth took a rushing gasp as her lung emptied in a waterfall of black water.

“Thank the Goddess.” Manuela cursed again, pushing Byleth’s long green hair away from the mess in the sheets.

“Byleth?” Seteth gripped his wife’s cheeks, thumbs stroking under her eyes as he pushed himself to be level with her. The colour was receding from her cheeks as her lung emptied and the air returned to her.

Shakily, Byleth reached for his chin, fingers stroking the green beard softly before searching up into his hair for his pointed ears. Her fingertips grazed the point, “I’m okay, my love.” She wheezed before smiling, her eyes closing with weariness, “Thank you.” Byleth muttered, gripping his hand as Manuela held her shoulders still, watching the last of the black water drip from the tubing. The Archbishop’s chest still rattled, as though there was a deep-set infection.

“I’ve never seen such a colour in any infection.” Manuela squinted at the bed pan, looking at the black water and mucus inside of it, “Blood and green...even brown, but never this. It’s like...like rotten.” She shuddered and toed the pan away to a tired maid, who blanched at the colour and ran to dispose of the liquid. With a sigh, Manuela gently pinched the end of the needle, taking a thick patch of linen in her hands to cover the puncture site.

“Hold still, my love.” Seteth took hold of her gently as Manuela swiftly slid the metal out and away into a bag to be disposed of. She oppressed the compression material to it swiftly and uttered words of white magic, sealing the wound shut and healing the deep tissue as best as she could. Byleth twitched at the pain but bared it as the Physician moved to give her room.

Byleth wheezed and coughed again, thankful for the taste of her own spit instead of the black mucus, “This...this has to be...” Her eyes rolled with sleep, and Seteth hushed her with a kiss to her feverish forehead as he helped raise her for the maids to change the sheets and blankets.

Seteth eyed the dragon pillow Finn had been laid on many a night before he'd put him back in his own room. It was covered in black, the fine embroidery stained with charcoal and pus. He handed it to the maids just as the door to their little boy’s room creaked and his footsteps thumped up the hall.

“Mama?” He pushed open the door only to have a maid usher him away gently, trying to coax the teenager away from the door. He was barely thirteen. Seteth let the maid take him away, holding Byleth's limp body in his arms as Finn caused a great ruckus in the hall, “Move!” He hollered and wrenched the door open, gangling arms flopping to his side as he looked at his sniffling father and pale mother.

“Fionntán, she is fine.” Seteth muttered to stop his son’s fighting, “Your mother is ill and asleep. Calm yourself.” The man placed his wife in the fresh bedding and wiped her mouth before Manuela placed a cool towel over her forehead for the fever.

His son strode to his side, smaller than the other children his age, yet his human blood was letting him age faster than Seteth expected. He was all arms and legs at the moment, yet still small enough for Seteth to wrap his arms around him and rest his chin on top of the boy’s head. Seteth hid his tears in his son’s hair.

“Will she be alright?” Fionntán asked softly, holding onto Seteth's night shirt.

The advisor let out a wispy breath, “With rest and white magic.” He whispered gently, green eyes closed as he held his son tight to his front.

“Its like the Goddess doesn’t want me to leave you both.” Finn chuckled and escaped Seteth’s arms to sit next to Byleth.

Manuela scoffed, “Your mother has merely run herself into the ground. You should go and experience the world boy, just as your parents have.” She yawned and patted her night gown before gathering her medical supplies, “Call me if she worsens, Seteth? I’ll make some concoctions in the morning for her when she wakes. Now, I’m off to get my beauty sleep.” The medic left them in peace.

Seteth closed the door with a ‘thank you’ before moving to change his black covered shirt. Fionntán changed the cloth on Byleth’s head while moving away her hair from her face. She was propped up on pillows to let her breathe better and Seteth was quick to sit on Byleth’s other side.

“I will tend to your mother...Go back to bed.” Seteth placed a hand on his sons cheek fondly before ushering him from the room and back to bed, “Some rest and medication will have her better, I promise you.”

Fionntán sighed, rubbing his eyes as he trailed back to his own room to sleep. Seteth sighed as he left and locked their door, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he wiped away the remains of the mucus that had infected Byleth’s lungs. He swallowed and raised the cloth to his nose. It stank of rot. Like the bodies of rotting soldiers. It was an ominous sign. Still, the Nabatea had seen something like this before, a plague which wiped across the continent. Himself and Flayn were immune, such was their heritage. How Byleth had contracted such a thing a thousand years after it was around was beyond him.

A Wyrm. A black snake in a cave.

Seteth gripped Byleth’s hand and prayed to the spirit of the Goddess that it wasn’t something they should fear.

Fionntán was the first one into the room that morning, his tired eyes falling on his ill mother, and his father who was asleep in a chair next to her, his head slumped in the covers on her chest. The teenager smiled before making sure to cover the windows and stop them being woken up so early in the morning. He moved back to the bed and gently shook his Father’s shoulder, watching Seteth awake with a startle, his hair a mess around his head, under his eyes a dark colour from exhaustion.

“Finn?” Seteth yawned behind his hand, “Is everything alright?” He was instantly fussing over Byleth, ringing out the cloth before moving to cover it in cold water.

“Papa.” Fionntán took the cloth from Seteth’s hand and moved his father back towards the bed, “Sleep. I’ll cover this in cold water. She needs to sleep before Manuela arrives, and so do you.” He smiled and ushered Seteth back to Byleth’s side.

“I cannot…” He felt himself go dizzy before Fionntán pushed him into the bed.

“You are working yourself to exhaustion. Rest. I will wake you before Manuela arrives later.” His son pulled the sheets over him in the bed. As his son laid the cold cloth over his mother’s forehead, Seteth realised he was slowly becoming a man.

Byleth was awake when Seteth next opened his eyes, feeling an ache deep in his bones from the deepness of his sleep. His wife smiled, reaching her fingers to touch his cheeks, her breathing clear and her face warm with colour.

“Byleth.” Seteth croaked, raising his hands to hers, cupping them with a great sigh of relief, his chin wrinkling with focus not to shed tears, “I was so afraid, my love, so afraid.” He utters, breathless before her bright eyes once again. Sometimes he wonders if she missed her natural colour, the blue deep like an ocean. The Goddess’ hair suits her, the bright green ethereal, and that’s all Seteth can use to describe her as she chuckles and kisses his lips, fingers pinching his beard covered chin, stroking at the hair he had begun to grow out.

“I am fine, beloved.” She whispered against his lips, “But this is an ominous sign.” Byleth frowned as she pulled away from Seteth, touching her chest, “That was from that beast I awoke, my love, I am sure of it.”

Seteth sighed and rubbed at his face before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Are you sure? Could that dream not have been a product of the fever?” He took her hand tightly, trying to think on what he could and should tell her. Everything. His heart screamed to tell her everything.

“It is, Cichol, I know it. That…thing, did this to me.” She drew her nightgown away and looked at her skin, unmarked apart from the beauty spot on top of her breast. She was littered with the things. Seteth enjoys kissing them often, telling her they are like stars. The memory made her smile as she held of Seteth’s hand tighter.

Seteth took a deep breath, “I have seen your illness once before, while Cethleann slept.” He let go of her hand and pushed himself from their shared bed. The advisor moved to their bookshelf and pulled one of his own hand-written histories from it, his fingers stroking the pages before he found one of the passages, “It was a plague. It wiped out a third of the continent with ailments similar to yours. A few humans sought refuge where Flayn slept, thinking it to be holy. They spewed the same black liquid from their lungs for days before dying. I…” Seteth snapped the book shut.

“You watched them die, didn’t you?” Byleth hushed him with a kiss to the cheek.

“I had such hatred then, you must understand. I watched that illness take them and tossed their corpses out like…”

Byleth snatched his face, turning his chin to face her, his sharp eyebrows creased, the lines around his face reflecting his age.

“I am not dead. I do not resent you for what you have done. Now,” Pragmatic as always, she took the book from his grip, “Tell me more about this plague. It could be useful information that links us to what I saw.”

Seteth smiled down at his wife, kissing the top of her hair as he opened the book again and presented the brief passages he had recalled and written, “There isn’t a lot. I didn’t study it with a medical knowledge in mind. I simply recalled symptoms.” He pointed out a little sketch of the buboes that appeared too. They were small and filled with the same black gunk.

“That didn’t happen to me.” Byleth noted thoughtfully.

“You have a Goddess’ powers, Byleth, perhaps you fought it off before you could truly become ill?” Seteth offered, tucking his head into her shoulder.

“You have a point, my love.” She hummed and read the rest of the passage before closing the book and thinking, her hand tucked under her chin.

“Perhaps the serpent was responsible for the outbreak originally?” She hummed.

Seteth tapped his own chin, “You could…be onto something. If this creature is something of a deity, who knows what power it possesses?”

The ominousness of that statement sat in Byleth’s gut as their chamber door opened and Fionntán poked his head in.

“I brought Manuela.” He smiled brightly, pulling his hair back into a hair tie as he let the brighter looking physician into his parents’ room, “She has a tonic…”

“I have brought a tonic for…” Manuela announced before her eyes went wide, “But it, ahem, looks like you are well, Byleth?” She deflated a little.

Byleth laughed and watched as the woman came to her side of the bed, the tonic bottle in hand, “I will still take it, just to be sure, but whatever it was seems to have gone, thanks to your quick work. Again, thank you.” She took Manuela’s hands gently.

The opera singer went red in the face, offering the medicine, “Ah, you’re making me embarrassed!” She huffed before moving away, “Now take it three times a day! And make sure to rest, my dear!” The couple chuckled at her escape before Fionntán moved closer to his mother’s side, taking her hand.

“You promise you’re okay?” He asked, his youthful face still round like his mother’s.

“I promise, Finn.” She tugged him down to kiss his cheek and pinch the spot to redness. He grumbled at their laughter before escaping to go and practice with his uncle. Indech was no doubt wondering where he had gotten to today.

Word of Byleth’s illness was confined to her close council, and even these Knights failed to see how she had ever been ill in the first place. Still, Seteth felt something, in his spine, after the events. He pushed his thumb to the base of it in yet another meeting, his anxiety high as the weeks whirred on and everything settled back into routine. Byleth was stronger than ever, dragging him along as a sparring partner after their duties every day. Seteth hefted his axe with a smile, his shirt drenched and flapping. He placed the blade in the dirt and tore his wet shirt off before hefting the weight of the axe once more.

“My love, how unfair. You know I can never focus properly when you take off your shirt.” Byleth teased with a coy pout from across the training yard, her sword in her grasp.

Seteth chuckled, slicing towards the woman with a heavy blow, “Come now, surely your restraint is greater than this, my world?” He felt the vibrations of their weapons clashing in his arms, gritting his teeth before he twisted and tucked the blade under Byleth’s, trying to drag her weapon from her grasp.

The Archbishop was not easily fooled, and slid the blade free, sidestepping out of the way of his reverse swing before swiping for her husband’s legs, “It makes me want to beat you a little more!” She confessed as they continued to go at one another, slashing, dodging and grunting as they circled each other again and again. Seteth heaved as Byleth slammed her elbow into his abdomen, her bone sharp as it connected, bending him over double, giving her the opportunity to throw him to the ground and press her sword to his throat.

“Yield.” She smirked over him, hair sticking to her head as her husband grumbled on the floor before laughing, a gentle noise escaping him. The creases around his eyes made him look so much softer. He was happy.

“I yield, Byleth, I yield.” He pushed her sword away and sat up, letting her help him up from the dirt, his trousers covered in a layer of brown over his backside. His skin was streaked with dirt too from their tumbles on the ground throughout the match.

“I love you Seteth.” She kissed him as he rose, and he returned the kiss shyly, hoping no one was watching the two of them spar.

“I love you too, Byleth.” He whispered before brushing at his chest and searching for his shirt in the corner of the training grounds, thankful for the chance to have worked off some of his worry.

A year passed all too quickly, and before the two of them knew it, the King of Faerghus was back for the change of the month to the Garland Moon. He returned with his assembly, Felix, Ingrid and Sylvain behind Dimitri and Dedue in the chain of nobles and soldiers filtering into Garreg Mach. Byleth smiled from her balcony, waving to them as they entered the grounds, horses snorting and weary from the weeks of marching to the centre of the continent.

“A year has gone by so quickly.” She lamented on the balcony, watching with old eyes as the nobles of the north filtered into the keep.

Seteth’s mouth was pinched, his face sour looking as he watched Dimitri disembark. The King reached to straighten his cloak as the women swooned. He wasn’t a boy anymore. She ushered her own maids away from the windows as the two heads of the Monastery entered the council chamber again. Byleth walked past her chair and turned to face her sour husband.

“You knew this was coming, my love. You cannot take your promise back from him.” She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, white sleeves brushing against him.

Seteth sucked a breath in through his teeth, green eyes forlorn as he looked at his wife.

“He is barely a teen.” He whispered as she cupped his face. His own fingers reached for her hands, cupping the backs with hot palms.

Byleth smiled, “We were all young when we fled the nest. He wants this. Let him go north and learn.”

He knew she was right. The advisor chewed his lip with thought as she reached to brush the tips of her fingers over his ears.

“I... I am scared we will never see him again.” It was a hushed confession as he drew his wife close, hands clutching her waist, pressing her to his front.

Byleth looped her arms around his neck and pressed her nose into his jaw, “Dimitri will not let anything happen to him. He will not die, and he will not forget his place here. You know he will visit as often as he can.”

Seteth nodded, a hollow chuckle escaping him, “I cannot help but worry. If he takes after his mother, he will rather sacrifice himself than see his peers hurt.”

A scoff was breathed hotly against his neck, “Then he will not go wrong. If he has our brains combined, he will come home.” She promised, pressing a kiss to his cheek, brushing her fingers against his beard before pulling away, “Come. We have to greet them.”

Seteth followed with a sigh, the tails of his overcoat sliding against the steps as he followed.

The party were stood before the steps, nobles behind their King as Dimitri stood with his lance, strong, towering over his subjects. The people gathered gushed and cheered within the market, lining the stairs as Dimitri waited, face the picture of control.

“The Archbishop!” The gatekeeper announced, and the knights followed with a slap of their greaves and a salute, stood like shining statues against the crowd as Byleth appeared from beneath the archway. The crowd dipped, the nobles and knights following. Everyone except Dimitri bent forwards in respect. The church was not higher than the King. He bowed his head, smiling at his oldest friend as she invited him to climb the stairs with a gentle gesture of her hand. The King did so, blue, fur lined cape dragging up the stone as he climbed towards her. When he stood face to face with her, Byleth nodded her head, smiling brightly.

“The church welcomes you and your party, my King. Take refuge and partake in the festivities.”

“We thank you for your kindness, Archbishop.”

The crowd cheered again as they turned to enter the grounds, Dedue and Seteth walking behind them both closely, the man’s closest Lords next in line. Dimitri sighed by her side as they passed the gate and turned towards the private hallways.

“You’ve been King for a long time, Dimitri, surely you are used to such attention?” Byleth teased as they walked, trying to ignore the age showing on Dimitri's face as they moved up the stairs. He was approaching forty, and the idea of that scared her deeply.

Dimitri rolled his eye at her, “I’ve never had the grace of everyone else with it, but I can present myself better than most, I think.” He chuckled as they climbed towards the council chamber.

Felix hissed through his teeth behind them, “Even I am a better speaker than the King more often than not.” Rolling his eyes as Sylvain cracked a smile, new scars covering his pretty jawline. Ingrid gave him a look before he could provoke Felix further, her lips curled in her own smile.

“Sure, Felix, everyone just loves how abrupt you are.” Sylvain teased, unable to help himself as he pressed his elbow into Felix’s side, “Just like I’m sure Fionntán will grow to ‘love’ it too.” He dodged Felix’s sharp backhand and scuttled up the stairs. Seteth fixed them with a withering look as they entered the council chamber but didn’t comment as the King and Archbishop sat.

“Seteth.” He knew that tone. Seteth gazed at his wife, looking at the consoling look with a sour stomach, “Get Fionntán, please. He needs to be told of the route he will be taking...And hopefully get a few more horse riding lessons before they march back north.” She smiled at her former students.

Sylvain clicked his tongue, “The boy still can’t ride? He better be a quick learner, teach.” He laughed good naturedly.

When Seteth stepped out of the room, Byleth sighed, “He can...but he has a habit of not really bonding well with any of the horses.” She placed her hand against the table, “He’s better off riding the shires than anything else, they can put up with his strong-arming in the saddle. The war horses won’t put up with him for longer than an hour.” She laughed at the memory of the boy being thrown off the Great Knights’ horses.

Felix rubbed at his face, “Certainly reminds me of someone.” He looked to Sylvain.

“Hey now, Gautier horses are less finicky and stronger than the horses here. He would do well to earn one of them.” Still he looked uncertainly at Byleth. Dimitri caught the look and leaned over the table.

Before he could say it, Dedue spoke the words he was thinking, “Archbishop, are you certain he is cut out for this trip? It is not an easy journey...nor would my lord go easy on him.”

Byleth smiled, “I know. Trust me, I am as worried as Seteth, but I think this training will do him good. To be away from his father’s overbearing arms will also let him grow.” She looked back at the door as it opened. Dimitri smiled as Seteth let his son walk in. The green haired boy looked nervous, still half gangly arms and legs, but he was beginning to fill out a little. The King stood to meet him, towering over the boy still, his face scarred and his gaze intimidating. Yet he didn’t speak harshly.

“Are you ready for this, Finn?” It was gentle, spoken with familiarity. Byleth knew Dimitri saw her son as his own in many ways. He would perhaps die heirless.

Fionntán looked up at the King of the Kingdom of Faerghus and nodded, his green hair flying around his head as he looked back at the King, “I want to learn with you, Lord Fraldarius and Margrave Gautier, my king.”

“Then you are welcome to come with us.” He placed a single heavy hand on Fionntán’s head and smiled before grappling him in a hug. Seteth watched with a serious look before sighing, clutching Byleth’s shoulders in a comforting gesture as Finn cheered and rushed to gush to his parents.

“Dimitri?” Byleth addressed her former student in the gardens, her face soft as he stood to address her. Dedue moved past them both, bowing, his armour clicking as he moved to guard the gates to the small garden. The students around them were quick to filter away as well, leaving the small pavilion empty for the two of them to speak.

“What is it I can do for you, Byleth?” He asked as he sat across from her.

Byleth took a breath, “Promise me you will look after my son.” She spoke frankly, fixing Dimitri with a harsh look.

A smile graced his face as she smoothed her sleeves, “You have my word. No harm will come to him while he is under my care.” Dimitri pushed his hair from his eye, pushing it away from the eyepatch as well, “I already made the same promise to Seteth. You are both so similar, and I think I see that now.” A ghost crossed his eyes as he looked at her, his eye digesting the fact that while he was aging, his professor appeared as youthful as ever.

“I know, but…He is young Dimitri, younger than he should be.”

Dimitri smiled at her, “He is your son, but I promise, there is no safer place for him than at my court.”

Byleth gave him a smile as her mind whirred, “Thank you, Dimitri, and please, do not hesitate to ask should you need anything…or if Fionntán needs a scolding. I’m sure Seteth would fly there on his Wyvern faster than I could read the letter.”

The King only laughed in response.

Seteth clutched his son tight before he climbed onto the horse. The mount snorted, foot slamming into the stone as Fionntán held the reigns a little too tight. Sylvain was quick to reach over and adjust the grip as Felix wrangled his own quick-footed beast. The lord walked the mare in quick circles as Seteth held his son’s leg, his hands pressed to his son’s horse’s flank.  

“Papa. Don’t look at me like this is the last time you’ll ever see me!” Fionntán laughed atop the grumpy horse as Seteth sighed, rubbing his eyes as Byleth moved to pull her son down and press a kiss to his cheek, patting it as the knights laughed. Finn went red in the face, pouting as the horse snorted beneath him.

“I can’t help but worry.” Seteth snapped before fastening his son’s saddle bag, before chewing his cheek and calming himself, “But I…I know you will learn, and you will come home.” He looked at Fionntán and remembered the words he had told Flayn before she went travelling, “No matter where you may stray, you will have a home here, with me, and with your mother. Do not forget that.”

Byleth touched his arm, her fingers curling into Seteth’s muscle.

“I won’t, Papa.” Fionntán promised as the party began to move. He turned in the saddle to wave to his parents as the King led them away from the Monastery.

Byleth held her husband’s hand as they watched the party move over the hills from her balcony. She looked at the early dawn sky and sighed at the stars as they disappeared behind orange.

“Dragons cannot survive in the cold, my love.” She whispered as she looked to the snowy mountains.

Seteth clutched her hand tighter, raising her hand to his mouth to press it to his lips, “Let us hope that is the case.”