argent-vulpine

[argent-vulpine]

Where are we Going?

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: M

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

It was her prerogative as Archbishop of the Church of Seiros to make decisions regarding the church, its function in society, and its functions within its own halls.

This was what he had to keep telling himself, staring at her open-mouthed as she delivered the news to him. It took him a long moment before her words really caught up with him, and he finally snapped his mouth closed, teeth clicking together. “You cannot possibly be serious,” he finally mustered, staring at her as if to see whether it was still her.

Byleth smiled at him, sly and scheming. He didn’t trust that smile on the best of days - it meant she was up to something. And no doubt that smile had been learned and copied from her good friend Claude… or Khalid, now, King of Almyra. Those two could get into so much trouble when they were together, even now.

“I assure you, Seteth, I am quite serious. Who better to perform the ceremony for Saint Cichol day than you?” she added with a knowing look.

Who better, indeed, than Cichol himself. He could almost hear her thinking the words.

Seteth would not win this argument. It wasn’t even worth trying to argue.

So he simply sighed, and nodded, and went to prepare for the service.

————

Archbishop Byleth did not get out of attending the service. She had to be there, after all, and she sat upon the seat meant for her, presiding over all who’d come to Garreg Mach for this.

But true to her word, she did not lead it, and instead watched as Seteth performed in her stead. And though he felt immensely uncomfortable, he had to admit some small part of him enjoyed it. They were making corrections to the story that Fódlan had been given, a little bit at a time.

Who the saints really were. Who the elites were, and how Nemesis had not been the king that people had thought him to be. It was taking time, but they had agreed early on that the church would be moving forward in truth.

There was a lot to correct, after a thousand years of Rhea and her machinations, keeping Fódlan at bay, stifled, in an uneasy peace of her own design, and locked away from the rest of the world.

Things were already changing for the better, or at least they thought.

Still, he was relieved when the service was over, and he was able to step away from the forefront, accepting the quiet compliments paid him by those of their friends who had been able to attend.

He waited with the congregation as Byleth made her way out of the cathedral, leaving through the doors and no doubt heading across the bridge and back to their suite. When he was certain that his own duties were fulfilled, he followed at a leisurely pace, for once taking time to enjoy the clear skies, the crisp chill in the wind.

By the time he returned to their suite, she had already changed out of her regalia and into something simpler and - she claimed - infinitely more comfortable. She looked up from her book when he entered, giving him a faint smirk.

“I knew you would do well,” she said simply, setting the book down after carefully marking her place. “But now you really know how I feel, in front of all those people.”

Neither of them had been made for the kinds of crowds that they had found themselves dealing with. Mercenary turned professor turned archbishop least of all. He knew it was difficult for her; he had never really appreciated how much until today.

“I hope you do not intend for me to take over all of these services,” he finally replied, moving to join her on the sofa and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “But perhaps it is not such a terrible idea, to find others who can be trusted to give services appropriately.”

“Of course not. We have others for other purposes. I just thought it would be fitting, having you give a service in honor of yourself.” She tilted her head up, pressing a teasing kiss to his lips. “But now that’s over with, we can celebrate your birthday properly.”

They hadn’t discussed doing anything special. In fact, she’d very pointedly avoided talking about it at all, and he knew the day itself had a great deal of things church-related surrounding it. So mention of any celebration now was something of a surprise, and he told her as much.

“I wouldn’t leave you to do such an important service on your birthday and not have something to reward you with, Seteth,” she said plainly, shaking her head. “But first, Flayn sent you a letter. It’s on the desk.”

His eyes lit up and he had to force himself to calmly stand and walk over so that he could read the letter from his daughter. She wrote to tell him that she was doing well, and still traveling; that the world outside of Fódlan was quite interesting, and she was learning a great deal. She remarked that her speech pattern had begun to catch up to the times, thanks in some ways to her time as a student, but especially from her travels and listening to all sorts of people.

He was glad to hear from her, to know that she was doing well. And she wished him a happy birthday, and called him Father in her letters.

The day was already perfect from the letter alone. He struggled to find his voice for a long moment. “She told us where to send a letter to for a response. It seems she will be there for some time, so proper correspondence will be much easier for a while,” he finally said, smiling fondly at the letter in his hands.

“We’ll have to write something suitable in reply. I received one from her as well, but I haven’t read it yet. I wanted you to have the first opportunity.”

Seteth returned to where Byleth sat, settling down and pulling her into his lap, holding her close. “Thank you, my love,” he said, voice soft and thick with emotion. “It means so much to me that you did so.”

She leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Of course, now I feel like anything else I do today will be greatly overshadowed by Flayn’s letter,” she teased.

His arms tightened around her. “That is very much untrue.” She had his heart, after all, and though he loved his daughter and missed her greatly, Byleth was here with him now. Sharing her life with him, as much as they were able to do for the time being.

“Well, in that case, you should definitely change into something less… stuffy.” She tilted her head slightly, pressing a series of quick, soft kisses to his jaw. “There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

She managed to wriggle out of his grasp, giving him a knowing look when he made a sound of protest, but of course he caved to her request, going and changing into a simple shirt and pants, comfortable and… less ‘stuffy’. Byleth gave him an appraising look, one eyebrow raising slightly before she gave him a sharp nod of acceptance.

Bemused, he followed her as she led him out of the suite, down the stairs and out into the monastery. It took him a moment, but he eventually recognized that she was leading him to Abyss, and he couldn’t stop the look of confusion from creeping onto his face.

Byleth almost laughed at him. Almost. But since he was following willingly, she took him down into the underground town, greeting those they came across as they wound through the tunnels. It looked… brighter, happier, and much more well-kept than it had all those years ago when he’d first followed her into the darkness.

He wondered, briefly, if she missed her former students, those who had been known as the Ashen Wolves. If perhaps she’d had a hand in the restoration of these catacombs. Judging from the warm reception they were receiving, he imagined it must be so.

So lost in thought was he that he almost hadn’t realized they’d left the normal paths and were now in darker corridors winding through the ground. It was oddly warmer here, the stones damp and moss-covered, more and more the further they went, until finally she pulled him through a small tunnel which opened into a large cavern, steam rising in idle wisps from the thermal springs that they housed. Sunlight filtered in from far above.

Byleth had clearly done some preparation, though, as she sent out a stream of magic, lighting small lamps that littered the cave: lounging on natural ledges, resting on the ground, even a few hanging from what he could see were stakes driven into the rock itself. The light cast a cozy, comfortable glow around the cavern, allowing them to see more clearly.

There was no one around but the two of them, not another living soul in sight.

“I thought you might like to relax away from prying eyes for once,” she finally said, oddly shy. “I knew of this place from… before.” Before the war, he heard.

“A certain underground lord told you about it, no doubt,” he remarked, though there was no jealousy in his tone. He knew they were close friends, even to this day.

She laughed, the sound echoing oddly in the cavern, skittering across the water and warping. Still, he loved her laugh, on the rare occasions she gave in to the impulse. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t.” She grinned at him then, mischievous and bright. “So what say you, Seteth? Care to take some time to yourself for once?”

“Not for myself, no,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her softly. “But for us, yes, I would do that.”

There was heat in her gaze as she nodded understanding, her fingers moving to help him out of his clothes, fingertips grazing his skin, mapping the planes of his body, the smooth muscle cording along his arms, his chest, his stomach. She allowed him to perform the same treatment of her, carefully removing clothing, folding them, setting them on a rock ledge away from the water.

They entered the thermal pool together, hands on each other, touching and grasping, exploring. She led him to a submerged ledge that could act as a seat, and he sank onto it, pulling her down to straddle him, letting the warm water swirl around them.

For a time all they did was sit, and touch, and kiss, until he grew hard beneath her, his breath coming in gasps at the deluge of sensation. Smirking, she shifted her position just slightly, guiding him into her and causing a sharp groan to spill from his lips.

She teased him with agonizing slowness, rocking her hips and grinding against him, driving him deep into her at a leisurely pace. Her lips found his neck, licking, sucking, nipping at the skin, drawing out pleasured moans from him.

It was sweet torture, and he allowed it to go until it was too much. When he could stand no more, he lifted her, standing and turning, setting her on a higher ledge and thrusting into her, watching as her nipples turned into hard peaks from the chill of air. They were enticing, and he leaned forward to draw one into his mouth, tongue flicking as he pushed into her.

He moved a hand to cover her other breast, massaging, thumb rubbing until she was melting beneath him, her own moans joining his and filling the cavern.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him against her as he pumped, picking up speed as her walls tightened around him in increasing pleasure. He felt her hand reach down, fingers rubbing her clit while his hands were otherwise occupied, and knowing that she was pleasuring herself with himself sheathed so deeply inside her only made him harder, made him want to push faster.

Faster, harder, deeper until she was coming apart beneath him, her cries of ecstasy bouncing around the rock walls, the splashing of water as he thrust into her and his groans the only other sounds in the cavern, until finally he too climaxed, throbbing inside her as her walls clamped around him, as her legs tightened and held him close, so close he found it difficult to discern where his own body ended and hers began.

He continued to thrust into her, drawing out her orgasm until she passed the peak and hit a new one, her body shaking with aftershocks of pleasure. Seteth held her through them, waiting until their breath stopped coming in ragged gasps, until his own heart had slowed to a more reasonable pace, before he finally withdrew, helping her back into the water and carefully helping to clean her as her shuddering slowed.

When they were finally recovered from their quick and intense lovemaking, she gave him another sly smile, pulling him to her for a slow, deep kiss. “Happy birthday, Cichol,” she murmured against his lips.

Something about the way she said it, her tone of voice, had him aroused all over again.

It was quite a long time before they finally returned aboveground, but he had to admit… it had turned out to be quite an enjoyable birthday after all.

[argent-vulpine]

Gone Fishing

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

The archbishop was in neither the audience hall nor the suite she shared with her husband. There were few places she could be, then, and on a morning like this, with clear skies and a light breeze, he took a gamble and headed for the monastery’s pond.

Sure enough, she was there, wearing the mercenary clothes she reverted to when she wanted to do something as just Byleth. Her legs were dangling over the edge of the little pier, feet moving back and forth. She was short enough that even if she stretched, the tips of her boots barely skimmed the water.

A fishing rod was already in her hand, the line cast. Another rod lay beside her, along with a tub of bait and a basket for the fish she caught. Even now she still liked to provide for the kitchens, though it had taken them a while to get over the shock.

Seteth joined her, easing himself down beside her so as not to disturb the fish. “I thought I would find you here,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her cheek.

“Too nice a day not to get some fishing in,” she replied with a smile, yanking on the rod when she felt a solid tug. It took her a moment, wrestling with the fish, but she finally drew out a pike, unhooking it and tossing it into the basket with a practiced hand.

“Leonie sent us some rare bait she found,” she said after a moment, nodding toward the tub. “She asks that I make sure you bait your line properly, and hopes we use it well.”

“I shall have to write and thank her, then.” The new leader of Jeralt’s mercenaries had been the one who’d taught him about fishing for food, and not just for relaxation. She, like his wife, seemed to find more pleasure in the task when it produced good results, and he had come to learn that it was indeed nice to be able to provide for the kitchens with his own catch, knowing he was helping to ease their strain in some small fashion.

“Later, of course. Come now, love, let me see your technique.” Byleth glanced over at him with a small grin, clearly not intending to bait her own hook until he had completed the task.

He huffed softly, but his returning smile was fondly amused. Seteth took up the rod clearly set aside for him and worked the bait onto it carefully. Byleth gave a slight nod, approving, and then did the same.

They cast their lines on opposite sides of the dock. “I think, one day, I would like for us to retire and have a little house on a lake, far away from… all of this. We could fish whenever we wanted, and have a little garden. Something… quiet.”

He glanced over at her, a little surprised at the thought. “I know you do not wish to be archbishop forever,” he began. “You are not Seiros, after all.”

“No… I would like it to pass on, eventually. Once the reforms are complete and Fódlan is truly stable. That may not be for many years yet.” She gave a soft sigh. “But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it? Flayn could come and visit whenever she’d like.”

It was a touchy subject, his daughter. Flayn had stayed at the monastery for a time, but she had proven to them - most especially to Seteth - that she was capable of taking care of herself. After she’d received their blessing, she’d vanished, leaving to travel the world and see for herself what lay beyond the borders of Fódlan.

She wrote, from time to time, but the letters were sparse.

It had taken him some time, but he had eventually settled into the reality of his daughter being away. Still… it was a difficult reminder.

His sigh was heavy enough to startle the fish; the pond rippled from their splashes as they darted away. “I miss her, of course. And I think that would be a lovely way for us to retire, whenever that may be. But… you are right. I do not believe it will be for some time yet.”

And… they still hadn’t even discussed the idea of being married. Not really. It had been made clear on countless occasions that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. And he wanted to be by her side, as well, for as long as they had together. Considering Sothis’ heart resting inside her, that seemed like it would be a very long time indeed.

Perhaps that was something that would need waiting, as well. The archbishop and Seteth, married while Fódlan was still unstable? No, that wouldn’t do at all.

He felt a bump against his shoulder and glanced down to see Byleth’s head resting there, though her gaze was still on her line. It was a gentle reminder that now was meant to be a relaxing time, a bit of fishing and quiet with just each other before they absolutely had to get back to work for the day.

Seteth smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair. An hour or two would be nice, he decided, and focused on the task at hand.

[argent-vulpine]

Growing Closer

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: g

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

Despite the rather abrupt start to their relationship, Seteth knew there was a war on, and that Byleth would be called to lead. She was a tactical genius, after all, and despite the presence of others who were nearly as competent as she, she remained the premier general of the armies in the war against the Adrestian Empire. As such, he had insisted that they keep their relationship… not necessarily a secret, but certainly more restricted.

They took moments together when they could, but she was busy being both general and Archbishop. He did his best to help whenever he could, be it on the field or - more commonly - at the monastery, dealing with paperwork for the church, while still maintaining the search for Rhea. He had strongly suspected that she was being held in Enbarr, and when finally the day came to rescue her, it was of little surprise how she had been kept, though his heart ached for her.

It was only after she had been returned to them that he discovered the truth of Byleth’s existence. He had suspected for quite some time that Rhea had done something to the professor; even had Byleth not told him of the lack of heartbeat, he would eventually have discovered it on his own, he was certain. And when the truth came to light, the puzzle pieces slotting together, he knew that Rhea had done something terribly, terribly wrong.

He had missed Sothis, too, but it was not worth sacrificing the life of another to return her to them. That Byleth carried Sothis’ heart in her chest, her crest pulsing in her blood, and the goddess’ spine in her hands for battle was a cacophony of macabre machinations by the goddess’ own daughter. He wondered, too, if Byleth had suspected at least the origin of the Sword of the Creator, for she rarely wielded it unless she felt there was a great need, and even then he could see her lips twisting in distaste.

She was like family to him. In more ways than one. Even Flayn had taken to her as more than just the professor. She treated her like a sister, or perhaps something a little more. Not quite mother, but not… not a mother, either.

And still, by the time the war against the empire had ended, he had not yet told her the truth about himself or Flayn. Oh, she knew that he was really Flayn’s father; that had happened long ago, before the war. Before her fall.

No, it was time to let her know the truth.

Rhea had left for Zanado, a self-imposed exile perhaps as penance for the sin she had committed upon Byleth, and the knowledge that her mother was truly gone, merged with the professor to save her. He knew that she had revealed herself to be Seiros to Byleth, that much he had been told before she had departed. But she had left the decision to him what he would tell the new Archbishop.

He paced in the main room of her - their? - suite, hands clasped behind his back and brow furrowed in thought as he awaited Byleth’s arrival. She’d had some things to see to, documents regarding Fódlan’s future alongside that of the church itself.

Reform was coming, and while he didn’t disagree with much of it, he wondered if perhaps they weren’t moving too quickly…

The door creaked open, allowing Byleth to slip into the room, puffing out an audible sigh as she removed the ornate headdress of her station and set it down on a nearby table. Gently, he noticed, though he could tell she rather wanted to throw it across the room instead.

“Oh, Seteth, you’re here already,” she said, eyes widening slightly in surprise before a small smile bloomed on her face.

“I found that I could not wait,” he replied, moving to meet her as she approached and wrapping her into a tight hug. He rested his chin atop her head, eyes closing and enjoying how she fit against him, small and warm.

“Excited?” she asked, her ear pressed against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. “Or nervous?”

“Perhaps a bit of both.” He sighed, steeling himself, and pulled away. “There is something I… feel that I must tell you. I had wished to before, however…”

“There wasn’t a lot of time during the war for complicated conversations.” She nodded understanding, lifting on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I can’t imagine there would be much that you could say that would surprise me, though,” she added with a small grin.

“Ah, well… there may yet be.” He coughed slightly, clearing his throat, and looked more nervous than he had since their first night together.

She lifted an eyebrow, curious and waiting.

Seteth never fidgeted… except for right now, when he was unsure how to really begin. “You are aware that Rhea is, in fact, Saint Seiros,” he finally began, straightening up as if it could shield him from what he was about to reveal.

She nodded, gesturing for him to continue, though nothing in her features changed to give away her thoughts.

“Rhea - Seiros - is not… the only one who remains. Seteth is not the name I have always gone by, nor is Flayn her true name. I am-”

“Cichol. And she’s Cethleann. I know, Seteth,” she interrupted, sparing him and reaching up to press a hand to his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. “I suspected something was amiss even before the war, but it wasn’t until our run-in with Macuil that I knew for certain.”

He blinked, startled, lips parted in shock before he finally found his voice again. “What… how… how did you know?”

She gave a soft snort, pressing a quick kiss to his other cheek before stepping away to remove the Archbishop’s gown he knew she disliked so much. “Flayn wasn’t the most subtle, to be honest, even before she joined my class. She’d made comments about her childhood being ‘so long ago’. Her manner of speech is even more stilted than yours. Your birthdays align with those of the saints, and you carry their crests.” She gave him a mock glare, shaking her head. “I’m not a master tactician for nothing, Seteth. But I suspected you had reasons for keeping it quiet.”

There was a pause, and then she shook her head, laughing softly. “I might not have put the entire puzzle together, except that when you and Flayn joined us on our little expedition to that oasis… well. Macuil was not exactly quiet, and even though Flayn kept shushing him, some of the things I heard him say to you and to her settled it all for me.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him in the middle of tugging off the overdress. “Were you concerned that I would take it poorly?” she asked, curious.

He seemed to deflate in his relief, striding over to her and helping her to remove the offending garments. “It had crossed my mind that you might not look kindly on it, yes.”

“Hm.” Overdress removed, she turned to face him, cupping his face between her hands. “Seteth, I had a goddess in my head nattering on at me for almost my entire time as a professor. Before that, I spent most of my life not remembering a great deal of things, except for fighting and staying alive. If it weren’t for my father’s journal, I wouldn’t even know my real birthday, much less birth year. I know that you weren’t here for what Rhea did, and I know that you didn’t approve of it once you found out, but it was far too late to reverse it.” She smiled wryly. “Well, not without killing me, I suppose.”

She took a deep breath, catching his gaze and holding it. “I love you. I want to be with you. The little matter of you being Saint Cichol doesn’t change any of that for me.”

It took a moment before her words hit him, and he found himself breaking into a broad smile, crushing her to him in a firm hug, pressing kisses wherever he could reach. Only when the tension fully drained did he step back, attempting to smooth down his coat and her hair, returning some sense of decorum. “I… yes. I hope you know how much I care for you, too, Byleth.”

“Seteth,” she said, giving him a pointed gaze. “You can just say it, you know.”

“… I love you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, huffing out a soft sigh. “I have loved you for quite some time. Of course I was going to be… concerned.”

There was a long pause, and then he pulled back, brows furrowing as he considered something she’d said. “How did you know that was Macuil? … and what did he say?”

Laughing, she pulled away and explained everything she’d heard, down to Flayn shushing the great beast and calling him ‘uncle’.

[argent-vulpine]

Grabbing On

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: M

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

Seteth had gathered the Knights as quickly as he could, sending word to those that had scattered around Fódlan to return and meet at Garreg Mach as quickly as possible. The rumors he’d heard – and the message he’d received – had spurred him to haste.

He needed to see for himself, witness with his own eyes the truth.

It took longer than he wanted, marching his small force to the monastery, but in the end, it was worth it, because there she was, alive… and looking entirely unchanged. More of his suspicions grew, cemented, but in Rhea’s absence there was little he could do to confirm anything.

And ultimately, it didn’t matter, because Byleth was here.

Formal greetings were gotten out of the way. He officially named her Archbishop – temporary or not – as Rhea had requested, and at Byleth’s suggestion, resumed his duties as aide. Her students had returned, now truly adults, tested on the field in ways no one had ever wanted for them. They still called her professor, the term fond, an endearment by many.

The first days – weeks, really – back at the monastery were hectic. Debris had to be cleared from the most important areas, rooms cleaned and aired for residency, and there was the matter of the battle – skirmish, really – brought on by Adrestian forces who had come to see if the rumors were true, that the church had returned.

He was surprised, then, when he heard a soft knock at his office door, looking up in time to see Byleth stepping inside and closing the door gently behind her. Seteth carefully put his quill down, capping the ink jar, and stood to greet her as she approached. “Is there something I can help you with…?” he asked, confused at her behavior.

Her steps paused briefly, but then she was moving again. “No? Yes? Maybe…” He blinked, and the professor was standing almost in front of him, having walked around the desk and invading his space. “I needed to see you,” she said, soft and staring at him as if she were figuring out a puzzle.

“About something in particular?”

Something in her must have clicked, because she stood up straighter, fixing him with her gaze. “How do you feel about me, Seteth?” Her voice was clear and careful.

There were a dozen ways he could respond. What did she mean by that? Did he trust her? Of course. Consider her a friend? Absolutely. Was there more to it than that? There had been, since before her disappearance. He hadn’t dared to hope that she might return, but return she did, and here she was, staring at him with something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

After years of being unwilling to hope, he took a chance now, lifting a hand to her face and cupping her cheek, his fingers tangling in her hair. He leaned forward slowly, giving her the chance to move away, to stop him, and when she didn’t – when she in fact leaned in as well – he closed the distance, capturing her lips in a desperate kiss.

She made a soft sound in her throat, sparking fire. Seteth dropped a hand to her waist, pulling her against him as he stepped closer, his tongue darting out to sweep against her lips, savoring the moan it elicited from her. Her lips parted, allowing him entry, and he deepened the kiss.

Byleth shifted against him, pulling him with her as she backed into his desk, using it as support as he nestled between her thighs, his growing arousal pressing against her and drawing a gasp from him at the sudden contact. He ground against her instinctively, receiving a throaty moan for his effort.

It was that sound that snapped him back to the present, though, and the reality that they were in his office, in a compromising position at his desk. He pulled back, blinking through the lustful haze. “Byleth, I…”

“I locked the door, Seteth,” she murmured with sly smile. “I… had hoped…”

The hesitant admission was almost too much.

Five years hadn’t been enough to forget her, to ignore the desires that had been growing for her. That she returned them at all had been too much to hope, and then she had vanished, questions unanswered. Five years of pent up feelings, of longing for her presence, of missing her in a way he had no longer thought possible. It culminated in the moment with a desperate, needy kiss, with

Seteth pulling her against him, grinding against her to hear that moan from her once more.

She rewarded him with it, her hips rocking against him and in turn drawing a groan from him. He lifted her up and onto the desk with an easy motion, scattering papers in the process and for once uncaring at the disorganized chaos. Byleth wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him so close he could feel the heat radiating from her core.

Quick, deft fingers began to unbutton his overcoat; he kept one hand at the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair while the other roamed her curves, tracing the line of her hips, her waist, slipping beneath her loose coat to begin sliding it off her. Byleth broke their kiss, but only to press heated ones on his neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. He could fee her lips curl into a victorious smile as she finished with the buttons, tugging the fabric apart to reveal his simple white undershirt.

He pulled insistently at her own coat, and she relented long enough for it to be slid from her body. He stepped back a moment, eyes raking over her form, oddly surprised at how much the coat actually managed to cover up despite the odd design and styling of her clothes. Byleth didn’t allow this for long, though, tugging him back down to her, their lips crashing together.

She helped him remove her top, guiding his fingers to the fastenings, sighing pleasure against his lips when his fingers grazed bare skin. When she was removed of the garment, his hands sought out her breasts, giving in to his desire to touch them, to learn how they felt against his palms. They were as supple as he’d imagined, and she made the most delightful sounds when his thumbs grazed her nipples, rubbing them into hard peaks.

He wanted - needed - to know what sounds she would make if he took one into his mouth, teasing with his tongue, his teeth. The whimpering moan she gave in answer was downright sinful. He spent several long moments giving careful attention to each peak, enjoying the sounds she made and the way she bucked her hips against him, craving more.

“S-Seteth,” she whined, pleading, and he couldn’t wait any more.

He quickly - but still carefully - removed the rest of her clothes, peeling away those lacy tights and marveling at the sculpt of her thighs, her calves. His lips followed the trail of his hands as he pulled the material down, teeth grazing the skin and making her squirm when his breath ghosted across flesh. She was ready, slick with want; he could smell it, saw the dampness of her smallclothes when he pulled them away. Seteth hesitated a moment, still unsure, but when she reached a hand down to tangle in his hair, giving an insistent tug, he abandoned the rest of his doubts, burying his face between her thighs, his tongue darting out to taste her, to lick at her, tongue swirling around her clit and drawing out a choked moan from her at the contact.

Seteth fucked her with his tongue, drawing sounds out of her that he’d only before shamefully dreamed of. One hand grasped at a thigh, feeling the way the muscles bunched as she reacted to his tongue, his touch. She tasted divine, and he wanted to make her fall apart against his lips, to drink in her taste as she came for him and him alone. His other hand drifted up, ghosting along her legs, until he replaced tongue with fingers, slipping two inside of her and stroking her walls. She keened, the sound muffled against her arm as his mouth resumed its assault on her clit, drawing the nub into his mouth, flicking it with tongue, sucking and stimulating in time to his fingers as they pumped inside of her.

Byleth’s walls clamped around his fingers, her grip in his hair pressing him as close to her as possible when she climaxed, her hips grinding against his hand and face with desperate need. He continued to stroke inside of her, though he eased up on her clit, feeling the tremors of aftershocks riding through her as he lapped up her slick, delighting in her taste. When she had calmed enough, he carefully withdrew his fingers, pressing kisses to her legs, her hips, her stomach; his lips traversed her body, mapping out scars as he found them, learning the feel of her until he was again at her lips.

She kissed him ferociously, tasting herself on his tongue with a debauched moan. Her hands reached for his waist, fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. Seteth helped her, stripping himself of his own clothing and looking down at the woman spread before him on his desk.

He would never be able to do his work here without thinking of this moment, but he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to care. The professor - no, wait, the archbishop, temporary or not (and that thought added another layer of sin in his mind) - stared up at him, green eyes hazy yet still somehow seeing into his soul. Her eyes traced his body, admiring the planes of his abs, the firm muscles of his arms. It was clear beyond a doubt that she liked what she saw.

“Are you just going to stand there?” she asked after a moment, her lips twisting into a sultry smirk.

Her words stirred him to motion, and he pulled her up to him for a searing kiss. His fingers sought her core, using her slick to coat his shaft before lining up at her entrance, pulling back briefly with a questioning gaze. In answer, she bucked upwards, forcing him into her, and he met her movement with his own, sheathing himself in her with a groan.

Byleth gave a sharp gasp at the sensation of being filled. He gave her a moment to adjust to his size, his fingers splayed across her thighs, tracing scars until she squirmed against him, pressing with want. It was all the sign he needed.

He withdrew slowly, then slammed into her, bringing out that sharp gasp again and deciding he liked this sound, too. All the noises she had made thus far were delicious and he wanted to wring as many out of her as he could.

He thrust into her, watching hungrily as her breasts bounced with the force, her hands reached above her to grasp at the edge of the desk, giving her leverage to rock against him. His hands slid up to her hips, gripping and holding her still as he pumped into her, wet slapping sounds bouncing around his office.

Surely if anyone walked past his door, they would hear, and that thought brought an urgency echoed in his movements. If anything the increase in speed only furthered her moans. He brought a hand to her core, thumb flicking against the still-sensitive clit and drawing out a ragged keen from her, encouraging more. He teased the nub with his fingers, his other hand sliding up her body to her wonderful breasts, and the combination of his hands and his cock were enough to make her shatter.

Her walls clenched around him, squeezing as he continued his desperate thrusts until she cried out his name, orgasming around him and drawing him into his own.

He had thought to pull away, to spill his seed outside of her, but she had clamped her legs around him, keeping him close, and he realized how strong she truly was even as he came with a cry of his own, pulsing inside of her as she ground against him, riding the wave of her own climax.

Seteth was panting heavily, sweat beading on his skin. He forced his eyes open so he could look at her, enjoy the fact that she seemed utterly sated. Ripples of aftershocks traveled through her, making him twitch in response.

Much as he wanted to go again, he did not relish the thought of remaining at his desk for such pursuits. He carefully and slowly withdrew from her, fumbling about for a handkerchief to clean up the worst of it as the mixture of his seed and her slick dripped down her legs.

It was rare to see Byleth in any state that wasn’t a stoic mask. To have witnessed - and been the cause - of her lack of composure brought him more pleasure than he was willing to admit, even to himself. Still, she recovered quickly, pushing herself upright and watching him with steady eyes and something unreadable on her face.

He stopped what he was doing to meet her gaze, and she must have seen the question in it because she leaned forward, kissing him sweetly. Compared to what they had just done, the gesture was tender, soft, and conveyed more than he had dared to hope, let alone dream.

“I hope I’ll be seeing more of you,” she said lightly, a gentle tease in her voice. The layered meaning was not lost on him, and he flushed, still somehow embarrassed at the way his thoughts strayed. “This wasn’t a one time thing for me, Seteth. I… hope it wasn’t for you, either.”

It took him a moment of clearing his throat to find his voice. “… no. It was not. I… care about you deeply, and I would not wish for our relationship to be purely physical.”

She nodded, smiling, and pulled him in for another kiss, this one slow, languorous, and he found himself reacting just as strongly as before. “Not purely physical,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye, “… but I certainly wouldn’t mind another round all the same.” In the end he caved, surrendering all hope of even moving away from the desk. Byleth had no intentions of giving him time to relocate them… and it just happened to be at a perfect height for their needs.

[argent-vulpine]

A Gentle Voice

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

Jeralt was gone, and Seteth didn’t know how to handle comforting Byleth. She had entered a fugue state, the only tears shed being the ones she’d left on the field of battle. He needed answers, both from Rhea regarding whatever it was she’d done to Byleth as a child, and in terms of who it was that had attacked the students and ultimately killed the famed Blade Breaker.

Solon, or whatever his name really was. Monica, whose disappearance and sudden return after a year missing were suspect in hindsight. Who were these people? Who else had gone home themselves and returned something else? Or had they always been these other people? Too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Back to long nights, though this time they were for the professor, and not because he mistrusted her. Seteth pushed himself to his feet, needing some fresh air to clear his head, and left his office.

He had intended to head downstairs and talk a walk, but he caught sight of the door to the captain’s office cracked open, a faint, flickering light casting shadows that drew his attention.

There was no doubt in his mind who was in there, but he still pushed the door open further, glancing inside to be sure. As he suspected, Byleth was curled up, her father’s coat draped over her as she read through what looked to be a journal.

She looked up as the door creaked, her eyes bloodshot and stark against her pale skin. The book snapped shut and was tucked away. Something from Jeralt, then, but he didn’t bother to ask. It wasn’t his place, and she would perhaps tell him on her own, eventually.

“Professor, it is late. You should be sleeping.”

“The way you’re sleeping?” she asked dryly. “I tried. I couldn’t. So I’m here.”

Well. She had a point. Sighing, he approached the small couch; she tucked her legs closer to make room so that he could sit. He wanted to reach out and hold her close, tell her that things would be all right in the end but… who was he to talk, really? He’d kept himself and Flayn hidden away for such a long time after his wife died, after all.

How strange, that this woman had been entrusted with such a large secret, when a few short months before he hadn’t trusted her at all.

Against his better judgment, he reached out and placed a hand on her knee, the gesture meant to comfort. She stilled briefly, but made no motion to remove it, no words telling him to stop. “I know the pain of loss, as you are aware… but to lose a parent like this…” He sighed, shaking his head. “That is something I do not know. Flayn does, and I would do anything to have it be different. No child should have to witness such a terrible event.”

She opened her mouth, about to say something, and then closed it again. 

“I know you are no longer a child, but the sentiment is there. Flayn at least has me, while you… I am sorry. Just… know that you are not alone.”

The silence stretched for a long moment, and he was about to apologize when she reached out, resting her hand on top of his. “… thank you, Seteth.”

He flushed, shaking his head. “There is nothing to thank me for, Professor.” He turned his hand beneath her to grasp her fingers, giving them a soft squeeze before he pulled away. “You do need to rest, Professor. Would you like me to get you a tonic from the infirmary? I am sure Manuela has something…”

“No, I don’t… I don’t want to be made to sleep like that.”

He hummed an acknowledgment, understanding why she might dislike the idea. “Ah… I could… sing for you, perhaps?” he asked, cheeks flaring with heat. “That is, I used to sing lullabies to Flayn when she had nightmares or was unable to rest. I could… do the same for you.”

The coat rustled briefly as she shifted beneath it, but beyond that, all was still and silent. He thought perhaps he had overstepped, or that she thought the notion silly. After all, she was not a child, and perhaps did not find comfort in music.

“I think… I would like that,” she finally said, voice soft. “Dad wasn’t much of a singer… mostly tavern songs? But sometimes he would sing other things. He always looked sad, but they were such nice songs.” The corners of her lips twitched upward for a brief second. “Even if he did sound terrible.”

Seteth gave a low chuckle at the thought of Jeralt singing anything that could be considered soft. He’d heard the man sing before, on his way back to the monastery from the town’s tavern. Off-key would have been a polite way of putting it. “I hope that I am not a poor voice to your ears,” he replied, glad that some of the tension had eased.

He drew in a breath, considering what to sing, and began ultimately with a soft lullaby. It was a fable set to music, an older song, and gentle, the melody slow and soft. Byleth watched him, her entire attention on him as he sang.

She showed no signs of relaxing, instead coming perhaps more alert than before as he sang. In the back of his mind, he wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or not; the song was a lullaby, after all, meant to ease people into slumber.

Byleth shifted, turning on the sofa until she was leaning against him, their shoulders pressing together. His voice faltered briefly, but she seemed content to stay where she was, listening.

The song ended, and he began another, a hymn often sung by the monastery’s choir. To his surprise, she began to hum along, soft and even; he wondered if this was something that Jeralt had sung around her before, or if perhaps she had picked it up since arriving at the monastery. He had seen her with a few students from time to time during choir lessons, after all.

This, at least, seemed to have the intended effect; she stifled a yawn and settled closer against his side. He hesitated, briefly, and then lifted his arm, carefully draping it around her shoulders, and was rewarded by her turning slightly, her cheek resting above his heart. He hoped that it was not beating too erratically.

Seteth finished the song despite Byleth’s humming tapering off as she fell asleep. He sang another, certain she wouldn’t hear but not wanting the moment to end just yet. And when it did finally end, he found himself not wanting to leave her there alone. He closed his eyes and sighed softly, willing to admit – just a little, to himself – that he… had grown fond of the professor.

He ultimately fell asleep as well, willing to do away with propriety for at least this night.

--------

They never had the opportunity to talk about that night. Byleth had been gone by the time he woke up in the morning, stiff and a little sore from sleeping upright. He assumed she had made her way back to her own room at some point, and she had resumed teaching her class that day.

But everything after had happened so fast…

Finding Jeralt’s killers. Byleth and her class charging recklessly ahead to deal with them. He had to piece together what had happened in the forest afterward, but the green hair she sported on her return had caused a great deal of worry for him, though Rhea

had seemed delighted, spiriting the professor up to her rooms to care for her.

He heard her singing as he passed by her rooms, going still as he realized what she was singing. It was old, a song he hadn’t heard in a very long time.

And it was suspicious that she was singing it to Byleth.

Something just seemed terribly off about all of it, and while he had suspicions that Rhea had done something, he didn’t know what, or how. Even the why was a mere guess, but it was a concerning enough guess that he spent many sleepless nights trying to learn more. Rhea was not forthcoming any time he asked her, telling him only to wait and see, that all would be clear in due time.

When Byleth was well enough to return to her own rooms, she did so to a flurry of activity. Preparing her class for the upcoming rite, normal classes, adjusting to her new hair and eyes. If they were a shocking change to her students and others around her, what must it be like for her?

Any time he tried to get her alone to talk to her, she would be pulled away. Certifications, exams, students in need of her advice or her assistance. He suspected she was throwing herself into work more than ever before, taking her class out into the field to deal with requests that came in. From time to time, she would ask him along, wanting his assistance, but there was never a good time to ask her about what had happened in those moments.

He wondered later if she had suspected Edelgard’s treachery, had known that not all was as it seemed. Certainly the attack on the Holy Tomb had been dealt with swiftly, with Edelgard and Hubert sent fleeing.

And after that treachery had been revealed, the monastery was in a flurry of activity as non-combatants were sent away for their safety where possible, or fled into Abyss, or simply barricaded themselves behind the stout walls of Garreg Mach to ride out the upcoming battle.

Byleth and her students were a force to be reckoned with on the field; she saw them firsthand as they fought against the Adrestian soldiers, fighting their way through as they tried to reach Edelgard.

But then Rhea took to the field, brandishing her draconic form in a way he hadn’t seen in centuries, and there was Byleth, running toward her, to protect her – why?! – and then she was falling, falling and he couldn’t reach her in time to save her, wyvern or not.

Her loss rippled through the field, causing a chain reaction of loss. Her students retreated, following her last orders to them, fleeing into Abyss where escape routes had been prepared for them, though he found all this out only much later.

And then Garreg Mach had fallen. Rhea was nowhere to be seen, nor was Byleth. Seteth took Flayn and the Knights of Seiros and retreated, fleeing into the countryside while war raged on around them all.

[argent-vulpine]

Getting Warmer

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

He hadn’t meant to.

That was the mantra he was telling himself as he fled the bathhouse, fighting the wave of embarrassment that threatened to set his face aflame. He’d gone in, mind still going over reports from the day, and hadn’t even thought about checking to see if the changing room he always used was occupied. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the bath at this time of night, truth be told.

Normally, Seteth was one of the last people for the day.

But normally, the students all went in waves after dinner. Normally, the professors had their own time slots after that. Normally, they hadn’t just returned from a grueling experience in the field.

Today was not a normal day. He cleared his throat, schooling his features into some semblance of composed, and decided to go on a stroll instead, firmly putting

out of his mind what he had seen.

Or trying to, at least.

He’d known that the young professor was an attractive woman. It was hard to avoid that fact, especially with the kind of clothing she was used to wearing. Not that her attempts to wear a student’s uniform were any better, frankly, and he was grateful when she’d stopped.

But at least she was clothed in those moments. Seeing her in a state of undress… he felt heat creeping up his neck and forced the thought away, focusing instead on where he was stepping, his eyes boring holes into the stones beneath him.

He was halfway to the main hall when a voice called out behind him. Calling for him, specifically. He turned, slowing as he saw who was approaching. “Good evening, Shamir. How may I help you?”

“Yeah, have you seen the professor? She ran off before she could be debriefed on the mission, but we figured letting her get clean first was fine… but that was an hour ago.”

It was all he could do not to let out a strangled cry. He was grateful for the high collar of his shirt, hopefully preventing the flush from being noticed. “I’m afraid I have not,” he replied, hopefully steadily. “Did you check the bathhouse?”

“I just came from there. Nowhere to be found.”

“Perhaps the sauna, then? I am aware she likes to frequent it after training sessions, perhaps a difficult mission would warrant the same treatment.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll try the sauna, and then her room. Maybe I just missed her.” She gave him a curt nod and turned around, jogging back the way she’d come.

Relieved that he’d answered her question well enough (and it seemed logical, truly) he went back to his stroll, very firmly shoving Byleth out of his mind. Again.

He ended up back at the suite of rooms that he and Flayn shared; she’d already had her time in the baths with her classmates – those who hadn’t gone on the mission, at any rate. She jumped up from the chair in their shared common room when he entered, setting her book down. “Oh! You are back already! And you… did not take a bath this evening?” she asked, confused.

“Ah, no, not yet. You know I prefer privacy, and there were others late using it.”

“Oh, I see. That is right, the professor and the others must have returned, is that it?” He nodded, and she bounced slightly on her toes.

“I hope that the professor will share with us what happened! She told me that I had much catching up to do before I would be allowed on the roster. Do not give me that look, you knew what it would mean for me to enroll in her class!” she added sternly when he’d begun to frown.

“I’ve spent such a long time protecting you, it’s… it’s a force of habit, Flayn. I will try to do better, I promise.”

She nodded, accepting this, and returned to her seat. “I take it you will be leaving again in a short while, when the bath is unoccupied again.”

“Yes, that is the plan.” He gave her a slight smile, taking up a seat of his own, grateful that she hadn’t asked any more questions. While he waited out an appropriate amount of time, he worked on the next of his fables, pouring all of his focus into that so that his mind would not wander elsewhere.

It wasn’t until he returned to the bathhouse itself that he found his concentration slipping, remembering the sight of the professor, still dripping from the bath and clad in only a towel.

He groaned softly, his head hitting the wall with a soft thunk as he tried to evict the mental image, but it persisted all throughout the process of changing and bathing, no matter what he did to remove it.

--------

Over the next few days, Seteth did his best to avoid the professor, determined to push what happened out of his mind before he saw her again.

Except that it wasn’t possible to ignore her completely. There were mission debriefings to handle, the newest assignments to give out, certifications to endorse… the list was endless, it seemed, and every time he saw her, he looked away immediately, focusing his gaze elsewhere.

It ended up being a long week.

He had just sat down to lunch, a little sad to see that Flayn had gone to sit with some of her new friends instead of with him, when he was startled out of his thoughts by a tray being plunked down across from him. Seteth looked up in time to see the object of his embarrassment and frustration settling down, her tray piled high with food.

Honestly, he still had no idea how she managed to eat so much, but he assumed her quite active lifestyle did require more fuel than his own more sedentary profession. He must have made some kind of startled sound, because she looked up at him, dark eyes scrutinizing. When he didn’t say anything, she began to eat, quickly but not sloppily.

He ate his own meal at a more sedate pace, but he also had less of it. By the time he was nearly finished, so too was she, though she had slowed down to a more reasonable pace at some point. Seteth glanced up to see her looking at him, her features impassive but for a faint furrowing of her brow. He shifted under the scrutiny, the back of his neck warming. “Is there something wrong?” he finally asked. “Have I gotten something on me?”

She blinked, then glanced down at her food. “No. Sorry. I was just thinking.” The professor speared a vegetable on her fork, bringing it to her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. When she’d was done, she glanced at him again. “You seem more stressed than usual, Seteth.”

“I, ah… well, it’s a very busy time, that’s all. With the White Heron Cup approaching, and the ball… there’s much to do.”

She nodded, understanding. As a professor, she had her own duties to attend. Finding a dancer for her house, getting them trained (and did she even know how to dance?), and myriad other things. Another bit of vegetable was eaten, her gaze leaning pensive,

though it was still difficult to tell sometimes. “I reserved time at the sauna with no one else around,” she said after a moment. “Would you like to join me?”

Seteth almost choked on the piece of fish he’d been eating. He coughed, sputtering, and took a few quick sips of water.

If anything, Byleth only looked amused by this, the faintest curve of a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “I like the quiet. I thought it might be nice for you, too.”

He hoped that he did not look as embarrassed as he felt. “Quite an unexpected offer,” he managed to say, chancing a glance at her. “… perhaps I will. You are right, of course, I have been quite stressed of late.”

She made a sort of humming sound, whether acknowledgement or agreement he wasn’t quite sure.

They finished their meal in relative silence after that, broken only by Byleth telling him what time she had reserved the sauna. And then she was gone, leaving him to stifle a groan… and the desire to bury his head in his hands. What had he done?

--------

That evening he found himself outside the sauna a few minutes earlier than expected. A small group of people were leaving, chattering away. Some glanced his way and gave him respectful nods, which he returned absently.

He was oddly nervous about this, but kept reminding himself there was no reason to be. It was just some time relaxing in the sauna with the professor.

… the professor he had accidentally seen entirely undressed.

The same professor who had just run up the stairs leading to the sauna, though she barely looked winded. “Oh! I’m not late… am I?” she asked, peering at the sky as if it would answer her.

“No, I was just a little early, that’s all,” he reassured her. “I believe the sauna just cleared out of the last group.”

The sauna master nodded affirmation, gesturing for them to enter. They split apart once inside, each going to the appropriate changing rooms. Seteth found a sauna uniform already set out and waiting; he changed as quickly as he could, though his coat did delay him somewhat before he was properly attired.

When he entered the main chamber, he saw that Byleth was already there. She had spread out a towel to sit on, and had her eyes closed, hands in her lap though her shoulders were loose and relaxed already. When he settled down onto the bench nearby, her eyes fluttered open, glancing over at him, before they shut again.

He could see the faintest traces of a smile. “Is something amusing?” he asked, shifting nervously.

The smile, such as it was, broadened a fraction. “You’re still wearing your circlet,” she pointed out, reaching up to tap a finger to her temple.

Seteth reached up then, feeling the metal band, and gave a soft sigh. “So I am. Too late to worry about it this time,” he replied calmly, settling into a comfortable position.

They were quiet for several minutes, simply enjoying the warmth of the room. When Byleth rose to add more water to the coals, he followed her movements through heavy-lidded eyes, admitting to himself – deep down, at least – that she was a marvelous sight to behold.

More skin was exposed by the cut of the sauna attire. Despite the appearance of her typical clothing, it did at least cover much of her skin. It was rare, then, to see the spiderwebs of scars across her arms and legs, the telltale signs of a life lived roughly and in constant battle. Her muscles rippled beneath the skin, drawing attention to the curve of her calf, her firm thighs…

… he stopped himself, flushing and grateful for the heat as a means to hide the embarrassment of it.

While he did trust her now, far more than he had before, she was still a professor. And… still human. Still young, by all accounts, even if Jeralt had told her birth day falsely… and he undoubtedly had.

He should not be having such thoughts about her. Not these, nor the ones that had plagued him since he’d stumbled upon her in the bathhouse.

“It wasn’t too much steam, was it?” she asked, drawing him back to the present. She was standing in front of him now, leaning forward slightly so that their eyes were on a level.

Seteth very firmly did not allow his gaze to wander to her chest, no matter its current position. “No, no, not at all. Apologies, it has just been a long week indeed.”

She nodded, but somehow did not seem at all convinced. Still, she returned to her seat, stretching lazily. Her breasts had already been pushing against the fabric, but the movement only amplified them, showing off their supple curves.

He bit back a groan and tore his attention away. There were reputations to consider, after all. Hers. His. The church’s. And she had given no indication of interest in him, nor anyone else for that matter. True that it was difficult to decipher her emotions sometimes, but surely if she had those sorts of thoughts, even she would have had *some* tell.

No, better to just ignore these thoughts until they went away, as they surely would.

“Seteth…” At his inquisitive hum, she continued. “You’ve been acting very strangely around me since I returned from the mission. Did I do something wrong?”

He drew in a sharp breath before turning to look at her. Her dark hair hung around her face, framing it. Her brows were furrowed, concern showing in the depths of her eyes though the rest of her face was as immobile, as impassive as ever. He closed his eyes briefly, giving a silent prayer to the Goddess, and opened them again to stare at her. “No, Professor, you are not at fault here.”

“Then why…”

“The blame is on me,” he continued, cutting her off. Heat crept up his neck. “I… was very improper, intruding on you as I did, and I should have apologized for that.”

She looked more confused than before. “Why should you apologize? It was an accident, yes?” “I should have knocked to be sure the room was empty.”

He could see the slightest shift in her features as she frowned. “That may be true, but you didn’t intend to do that.” And now she gave him the tiniest of smirks, leaning forward. “I think it would have gone differently if you had.”

Seteth’s jaw tightened to prevent it from falling open entirely. He couldn’t be sure if she was teasing him… or perhaps threatening him. Nor was he sure which one he would prefer… and that train of thought was further derailed when Byleth gave a soft laugh, leaning back in her seat, every motion showing self-satisfaction at whatever she had seen in his face.

She gave another stretch, humming softly, and then stood. “I think I am going to head back now. Thank you for joining me, Seteth,” she said.

“Ah… well, thank you for the invitation, Professor.”

Byleth gave a single nod, and was about to step through into the women’s changing room when she stopped, glancing at him over her shoulder. “You’re quite cute when you’re trying not to blush,” she quipped, not waiting for his reaction as she slipped through, closing the door softly behind her.

Only when he was sure she was truly gone did he groan, burying his head in his hands. He’d been trying so hard… and yet had she still seen right through him?

It wasn’t until much later that he realized she had called him cute.

[argent-vulpine]

Down We Go

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

He could not for the life of him figure out what Rhea was planning. Oh, he understood bringing Jeralt back into the fold; he’d heard many stories of the man’s tenure as captain, and with recommendations from those who’d known him, was all too happy to accept his return into the Knights, regardless of his reasons for leaving.

No, the problem Seteth was having was with Rhea’s decision to make the man’s untested, probably under-educated daughter a professor at the academy.

She simply couldn’t be trusted, which was why he had made the decision to keep an eye on her. Whatever Rhea’s reasons were – and she wasn’t sharing them – he needed to be sure that this young woman was trustworthy on his own. So he would stop and check in on her from time to time, listening to the instructions she gave her class, checking on them before and after missions, and even stopping her for chats on free days at the monastery.

He discovered, to his consternation, that she liked to fish. A lot. And that Flayn would frequently join her at the little dock, chatting away while the professor reeled in fish after fish. He knew that she would take her catches up to the dining hall for the kitchens to use, and that sometimes she would join one of the students – whether from her house or another – and cook a special meal to share with the lot.

It was also of note that she enjoyed spending some time in the greenhouse, and wandering the grounds. She would invite people to join her in the sauna – including himself, to his surprise. They said nothing, simply relaxing, and as no one treated her like this was an oddity, he had to assume this was how all her sauna visits went.

The professor liked to run, as well, he learned. It didn’t matter where. From the dormitories to the greenhouse, to the dining hall, through the gardens… it didn’t matter. She simply liked running. He caught her running across the bridge between the monastery and the cathedral in the early mornings, doing laps across the expanse before it was too crowded with people, and found that those she passed were used to this, too, greeting her as she sprinted past.

He was finding out a lot about her, in fact, and not a single shred of it made her any more suspicious. In fact, it would have been doing the opposite, if he still weren’t so bothered by her sudden and inexplicable promotion to professorship.

It wasn’t until the existence of Abyss came to light that he had any reason to suspect her at all.

Except that he’d caught her sneaking out of her room late in the evening, as he was strolling the grounds on the way to the baths, and caught sight of her slipping into a hole in a wall near her room.

Curious, he followed her into the tunnel, knowing where it would lead, but not knowing why she was going, especially at this time of night. After all, the so-called Ashen Wolves were part of her house, now, and allowed to come up to the surface for classes whenever they so desired.

By the time they’d reached the main ‘village center’ of Abyss, Byleth had vanished. He looked for her, trying to stay out of sight of Abyssians who might otherwise dislike his presence, but she was nowhere to be seen. Disgruntled, Seteth returned to the surface and continued on his original path.

--------

He watched her every night for the next two weeks, noting that while she didn’t enter Abyss every night, she did go more often than not.

Seteth did not try to follow her again, not yet, instead waiting to see how long it took before she returned. Some nights it was only an hour or two, other nights she didn’t return until near dawn, when he was yawning and struggling to stay awake.

It was severely affecting his ability to work. He found he was struggling to remain awake in meetings with Rhea and the cardinals, and drifting off in the middle of completing his paperwork. He even managed to miss lunch with Flayn on one occasion, to find her barging in and scolding him for not getting enough rest.

He was determined to get to the bottom of this. If she was up to something suspicious, then he needed to know so that he could report it to Rhea.

Determined, he prepared for another night. This time he would follow her properly. Instead of waiting outside, simply watching the tunnel, he would wait within and keep track of her that way.

--------

It took three attempts before he was able to get into the tunnel to Abyss and follow Byleth. She hadn’t gone down for a couple nights, making him wonder if he’d somehow been caught out. But then she was there, walking past his hiding place, her steps purposeful as always.

He gave it a moment before following, pulling the hood of his cloak down to further hide his unfortunately distinctive countenance. (So he might have been recognized on one foray far more easily than he’d thought. He’d learned from that.) Byleth was already a fair bit ahead of him, but it was easier to follow her this time, staying back as far as he could.

Her first stop was the Abysskeeper, getting the latest news from him, before moving on to the tavern, where she spoke with a few of the patrons there, sliding some money across the counter for a glass of what he suspected was subpar ale. She drank it anyway, chatting with the bartender. Seteth hung back, out of the tavern, and simply watched from the corridor, leaning against the wall between flickering lights and hoping the shadows were enough to conceal his identity.

Byleth remained in the tavern for a fair bit of time. Long enough to have a pint and a chat. This behavior, at least, was somewhat excusable. She’d been raised as a mercenary, after all, and while he knew she would occasionally join her father at the town’s tavern, she had likely made contacts with people in Abyss during the whole debacle when the subterranean town had been found out. Certainly she had the students here, it stood to reason there were others she spoke to as well.

From there, he watched her move to a dead end corridor (he hung far back for this) to… feed cats? Oh, he’d seen her slip some scraps to cats and dogs around Garreg Mach itself, so it shouldn’t be that surprising, but it somehow still was. She sat with them a while, giving them scraps, petting them. Sometimes one would bring her something as a gift, or she’d pry some odd item out of a mouth and then offer food as apology.

He frowned, watching, and mentally adjusted his evaluation of her. Just a little.

The rest of the night was spent in much the same manner. She helped out in the little market, stopped and spoke with children running around (and slipping them some candies). There was the library, and he itched to stop her from going in there, but he had no jurisdiction here, and trying to stop her would just make things worse. She chatted with library patrons – and he caught a flash of familiar deep green hair, the owner of which was rubbing his eyes sleepily before he waved to the professor and wandered back up to the surface.

She would stop and catch up with the Ashen Wolves. Balthus flirted as loud and boisterously as he did everything else, but Byleth dodged his efforts; he caught mention of a brawling tournament, and talking about his debts. It sounded like the professor was giving him ways to help deal with them while still having some money on the side. She spoke to Constance about magical theory, and gave Hapi a small bag of pastries from the kitchens.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, she spent the most time with Yuri, the de facto leader of the Ashen Wolves. He couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about, as they spoke in low tones to each other. That caught his attention more than anything, and he had to wonder if that was simply habit for the lavender-haired house leader, or if they were planning something and needed to keep it quiet.

He almost missed when she bade goodnight to the young man, presumably to head back to the surface for some sleep. Still, he wanted to make sure… but before he could follow after her, a shadow was upon him, pressing a blade against his throat.

“You know, I don’t take kindly to my people being tailed.” The words were said in a hard tone, a thinly veiled threat, by none other than Yuri. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but the professor is under my protection, got it?”

Seteth stared in open shock, raising his hands up to indicate he wasn’t armed, but no words came to mind. 

The knife pressed a little closer, a warning. “You had really better tell me what you were doing, following her around all night.”

So he knew? Well, there had been rumors that Yuri was the brains of Abyss, and surely he had eyes and ears all over the place. Did that mean that Byleth had caught him out, too, or that she hadn’t and Yuri was looking out for her? Seteth swallowed, feeling the sharp edge of the knife on his skin. “I think it’s no surprise to anyone that I haven’t trusted her,” he finally said, moving the hood of his cloak back enough that Yuri could see his face.

The younger man scoffed, his lips twisted in a scowl, but he removed the knife. “So instead of just asking her, you decided to be a creep about it?”

“I… well…” Yuri had a point. “I had no reason to believe she would answer me truthfully.” It sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Professor’s never lied to anyone. I don’t know even think she knows how. She may not be all that willing to share on her own, but she’s no liar.” He slid the knife back into its hiding place, giving Seteth a long look. “You’d do better to just talk to her. And frankly? I don’t want to see you down here again. You church folk aren’t the most welcome here, and I won’t guarantee your safety after tonight.”

“But she is also a member of the church.”

Yuri laughed outright at that, hard enough his eyes watered. “Tell yourself that all you want. She may be a professor at that fancy church of yours, but she was a mercenary first, and that reputation is what counts down here.” He waved a hand dismissively. “She’s welcome. You aren’t. Go home to your little monastery, Seteth. And maybe actually try to talk to the professor before you go jumping to conclusions about things.”

Seteth opened his mouth, about to ask what the pair had been talking about, when he caught Yuri’s expression. The man would not be telling him, that much was certain. He sighed, admitting defeat. “Point taken.” A pause. “Ah… it might come off a little odd, I suppose, with all things considered, but… thank you for looking out for her.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not doing it for you. We take care of our own down here, and far’s any of us are concerned, she’s one of us.” The man turned and began walking away. “Balthus will make sure you find your way safely back to the surface.”

He’d been so preoccupied with Yuri that he hadn’t even noticed when the bigger man had arrived – and how did he manage that, anyway? The brawler in question grinned down at him, placing a large hand on his shoulder. “Come on, then, church man, let’s get you home all nice and safe, shall we?”

--------

It was later than he’d thought, by the time he was escorted out of Abyss, and after so many late nights, he was exhausted.

But it looked like his night wasn’t over yet. Byleth was waiting, legs dangling over the ledge of the dorm porch. Her hands were on either side of her as she leaned back, looking up at the night sky, but she straightened and glanced his way when he stepped out of the tunnel.

She didn’t look all that surprised to see who it was, and that made him hesitate, before he deflated with a sigh. “You knew?” he asked, as he approach her perch.

“You’re not the most subtle, you know. But it was a pretty standard night in Abyss for me.” Her lips quirked into an almost smirk, but it was gone quickly. “Longer than usual, actually. I was wondering if you were going to get tired and leave.”

He had the grace to flush, embarrassed. “I… I apologize. It was unbecoming of me to follow you and treat you like a criminal.”

“You don’t trust me.” She shrugged. “You’ve made that plain enough. And I can’t particularly blame you. I came here with my father, was made a professor despite not having any real qualifications. You don’t know who I am.” Her gaze narrowed, boring into him. “Whether you trust me or not is on you, but you would have gotten many more nights of rest if you had just asked.”

There was a long silence as he processed what she’d said. “You… you knew I was watching you?”

A curt nod. “Since the first night you tried to follow me. I didn’t know it was you at the time. You were very easy to shake, by the way.” Now she did move, hopping off the ledge and strolling over to him. She had to tilt her head to look up at him, but her gaze was no less steely. “I wouldn’t even care, really, if you were exhausting yourself, but it’s bothering others, and I’m not thrilled with that. Not to mention your presence around the Abyss entrance is a detriment. I’m not the only one who knew you were out here.”

“Go to bed, Seteth. Tomorrow’s a free day. Maybe you should use it to catch up on sleep.” She began to move past him, then paused, glancing over her shoulder. “And apologize to Flayn. Properly.” With that parting advice, she was off, her boot heels clicking on the stones as she wandered off.

Seteth wanted to follow, to see where she was headed at this hour, but decided against even asking. Instead, he side, sliding a hand down his face in a tired motion. There was a throbbing behind his eyes, a reminder that he’d not gotten nearly enough sleep in his pursuit of proving her to be untrustworthy. And that had only resulted in him looking the fool.

He retreated to his rooms, checking in briefly on Flayn, before writing a simple note for her that he would be resting the following day. Then, finally, he went to sleep.

--------

When he finally awoke shortly after lunch the next day, he found a tray with a simple meal of cold meats, cheese, and bread waiting for him, covered by a napkin. A note sat atop the entire thing, and he grimaced when he recognized the professor’s quick, choppy handwriting.

Flayn asked me to help make sure you were well fed on waking. Please take better care of yourself.

B. E.

He would have to thank her later. And… apologize again. Perhaps he really had been treating her more poorly than she deserved.

[argent-vulpine]

I am so very, very glad that I’ve had time to prepare for Seteth Birthday Bash week. Y’all I am only halfway through day 3′s prompt. XD

Expect a slow burn-ish Setleth series to come out of this, because I apparently don’t know how to not...do...that.......

[argent-vulpine]

The Queen’s Scheme(r)s

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Yuri/F!Byleth/Claude

Chapter Six: Entering the Locket

Read it on AO3

The Locket was an impressive beast, nestled in the mountains of Fódlan’s Throat, a fortress designed to keep the Almyran ‘threat’ at bay. And for a long time, House Goneril had done a marvelous job at exactly that, culminating in Holst himself being well known as a formidable general and warrior.

Of course, that had changed in recent years. The fortress was still in use, and ostensibly still there to protect Fódlan, but with the Queen of Unification being married to the King of Almyra, there wasn’t much to defend against beyond some particularly testy people on both sides who were resistant to change.

When Byleth and Yuri arrived at the Locket, they were greeted by Holst himself, his younger sister Hilda… and King Khalid, who stood a little ahead of the pair with a broad, mischievous grin.

“It’s so nice that Queen Byleth has graced us with her presence,” he said, shooting her a wink. “I was wondering how much longer it would take you.”

She gave an amused snort and moved toward him, Yuri a half-step behind, while Claude descended the stairs to meet them. The three met and embraced, heads pressing together and arms tangling in a knot, hands grasping and uncaring who they touched. They stood like that for a long moment, until Holst cleared his throat, drawing them back to their surroundings.

“I hate to interrupt, Your Majesties,” and it was clear he included Yuri in this, “but dinner’s waiting, and I hate to let the kitchen’s efforts go to waste.” He said this with a broad grin, waving Hilda over.

The group began the climb up the steps, with Byleth looking around curiously. “No Nader hovering about?” she finally asked.

“Oh, I sent him on to Judith for a few days. His whining was terrible,” replied Claude with a grin.

“Your whining hasn’t been any better, Leader Man,” chirped Hilda from Holst’s other side, earning her a baleful glare from the Almyran king. “Ever since you got here it’s been nothing but ‘Oh, I miss them so much, how much longer until they get here, what’s taking so long’. Really, Claude, a couple days longer is nothing!”

Holst sighed fondly at his sister, but shot a sidelong glance at the trio of royals. “It wasn’t quite that bad… but it might have been close,” he confided in Byleth with a grin. “I have to admit, I was part of the group that wasn’t too sure how the Archbishop being married to two people would go over, but seeing you together, it makes sense.” He gave a decisive sort of nod, as if settling the matter.

“The situation is certainly complicated,” she agreed smoothly, hooking her elbows around Claude and Yuri arms, drawing them closer to her. “But we manage. And I have to be honest… I’m not sure if I’d be able to run things half as smoothly if I didn’t have both of them by my side.”

“The same for me. I know I can’t bring them both to Almyra right now, and things are still a little shaky, but the day-to-day stuff is made easier with more heads in the matter.”

Yuri seemed to take all of this in stride, not offering up anything of his own to the current conversation. Not that Claude and Byleth wouldn’t have listened; quite the contrary, they would have listened with great intent. But in this, he knew that he was the reason their burdens were eased. Without an entire country to run – or a church to govern – he had more flexibility, and thus an easier time being the person to help ease their strains.

“Hey, if it ain’t the professor!” bellowed a familiar voice as soon as they stepped through the doors. “And my pal Yuri!”

“I see they haven’t kicked you to the curb yet,” replied the lavender-haired main dryly as Balthus bounded into view.

“Well, not yet, but maybe soon!” he replied, his deep laughter booming down the halls. “Ah, I’m just stopping in for a few days before I head back home. Couldn’t resist a visit to my buddy Holst here!”

“So Constance isn’t with you?” asked Byleth with an amused quirk to her lips.

“Nah, she was in the middle of some weird magic… thing… and couldn’t be bothered. She did say to give you this when I saw you, though!” And saying that, he produced a thick envelope, waxed and stamped with the seal of House Nuvelle. “Hapi included a letter, too!” he added with a grin.

While Balthus and Constance had married and resettled House Nuvelle to encompass Kupala, Hapi’s home, it was known to their friends that the trio enjoyed a relationship similar to Byleth and her husbands, if a little less official. Byleth had been told that it was her example that had them choosing to give it a go, but they preferred less public displays than those Byleth as Queen had to endure.

Balthus handed the letter to Yuri when he extended a hand, and he tucked it away for later; they would have time to read it after dinner. “We’ll make sure to write a response for you to take back,” Byleth assured him with a slight smile.

The group continued onward toward the dining hall, chatting amiably as they did. Yuri separated from her first so he could pull Balthus aside, catching up on important news and undoubtedly preparing to dispatch a few careful letters of his own. Neither she nor Claude had even bothered trying to turn him into a law-abiding citizen; they’d only cautioned he be careful with what he did now that he was in a more public view.

Still, the underworld was where he flourished, and he’d been ‘king’ of that long before he’d become King Consort of Fódlan.

Dinner ended up being a relaxed affair, with only the Gonerils, the crowns, and their close friends in attendance. A larger, more elaborate dinner would come the next day, when they had time to relax and prepare. This one would include delegates from Fódlan and Almyra, one of many such parties to get their nations to mingle and come to some sort of understanding.

It helped, some, that Byleth’s reputation as Ashen Demon had traveled into Almyra, as well; they respected her for her battle prowess, even if they still thought Fódlan’s elite were cowardly.

After dinner, Byleth and her husbands retired to the rooms set aside for them, taking time to bathe and then settling down in front of a hearty fire. Yuri was in the middle for tonight, the thick envelope in his hands, waiting for the others to get comfortable. When they were, he cracked the wax seal and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

“She really does talk a lot, even in text,” he muttered with a wry grin, leafing through the sheets until he found where Constance’s letter ended and Hapi’s began. “Let’s start with Hapi, yeah?”

“One sheet compared to four?” He nodded at the question, a move more felt than seen. “… yes, let’s start with Hapi.”

On the other side of Yuri, Claude chuckled, taking the other letter from the stack and setting it aside.

Yuri’s voice was soothing as he read, though he mimicked Hapi’s speech pattern perfectly. “Hey Chatterbox,” it began, “and Yuri-bird, and Claudester.” He paused, chuckling at the order. “Guess she’s decided who’s most important for this letter.”

Claude feigned offense at being last on the list, but it had no real heat in it.

Hapi’s letter continued, talking about the state of Kupala, how well it was doing now that House Nuvelle encompassed it. She spoke of seeing the stars from the mountains, and how she missed certain sweets from Garreg Mach’s kitchens (Byleth made a mental note to have some sent her way as soon as she could). She assured them that ‘Coco’ and ‘B’ were treating her well – how could they not – and that she was happy to be home, though home now meant going between her family’s home in Kupala and the Nuvelle manor.

It was not a long letter, more of a general update to let them know that she missed them and had been thinking about them. The gesture was appreciated by the trio. They missed their friends, too, but life after the war and with the shifting of power in the country meant that there was a lot happening that took them… everywhere.

Byleth took the letter this time, setting it down on her side of their pile while Claude handed the thicker mass from Constance back to Yuri.

It was addressed to them in the same order, but in a far more formal fashion. She regaled them with talk of her newest magical discoveries (and a few accidents as well), how they had been building outdoor structures for her to address the people of her territory in a proper matter, and a great many other things.

They all politely declined to comment when the tone shifted for about three paragraphs, indicated a time when she had been outside.

Yuri’s voice was soothing enough that Byleth had begun to drift off near the end of the letter. He nudged her to wakefulness and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Would you like me to write the response for all of us?” he asked.

“…maybe,” she said with a slight huff. “You write hers and I’ll write Hapi’s?” she offered, biting back a yawn.

“Deal.”

“And I… will get the bed ready,” announced Claude with a smirk. “… and then join you in letter-writing. I have a few I need to start penning as well.”

They stayed up late into the night, writing letters and simply enjoying each other’s presence, before finally climbing into bed, limbs entangling together as they sank into easy, comfortable slumber.

[argent-vulpine]

The Queen’s Scheme(r)s

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Yuri/F!Byleth/Claude

Chapter Five: Travel to the Throat

Read it on AO3

Their visit to Derdriu felt a lot longer than it actually was. The forum took the better part of a day, which was to be expected, and thanks to Lorenz’s assistance it went more smoothly than Byleth could really have hoped.

That hadn’t been the issue. No, the issue was dealing with all the nobles. Former members of the Leicester roundtable alliance, except there was no longer a Leicester Alliance and thus no need for their roundtable meetings.

They still tried. Byleth spent several hours reminding them that they were required to be at the twice-yearly meeting at Garreg Mach with the other nobles for discussions on how to work out wrinkles in the unification of Fódlan.

It was a huge relief – to her and Yuri both – when they were able to leave and head out to Fódlan’s Throat. They were being hosted by the Gonerils for some very important talks with the Almyran king, after all, and the alliance of their nations was still technically in progress.

This despite her marriage to King Khalid.

————

The trip out to the Goneril estate – or fortress, really – was easy enough. While a carriage was available for her use, Byleth preferred to ride at the front of the progress, stopping at the smaller villages they passed through to speak with the village headperson, seeing how things were faring, what was needed from the region. She made sure it was all written down, a report compiled.

While they wouldn’t be able to help everyone, they could at least figure out what the majority needed and see to it, as best as possible.

People came out in droves to see the Archbishop Queen (Queen of Unification, Queen of Liberation, and a half dozen other titles she caught wind of). It made her tense, knowing so many people were looking to her to guide the entire country, now considerably larger than it had been before. And she knew that some – especially some of the nobles – were concerned about her playing favorites. After all, one of her husbands was from the former Leicester Alliance. Surely their role in ending the war would place them in a position of prominence?

Except that she had already put her foot down on that. There would be no playing favorites. Not even her husbands had been able to get away with it, and they’d definitely tried. Claude was especially bad, needling her to see what he could get away with as part of the Fódlan-Almyra alliance.

Not that she’d disagreed with some of what he’d wanted, but it was too much, too soon, and she’d let him know that in no uncertain terms.

A smile curved her lips as she thought about it, making Yuri laugh beside her. “Thinking of Khalid’s schemes, are we?” he asked, teasing.

“Something like that.” They were riding in the carriage for once, taking shelter from a sudden storm. Byleth wouldn’t have cared either way, but her entourage had firmly told her that the Archbishop Queen arriving anywhere soaked to the bone would look poorly on them, not just on her. She’d taken the hint and sought shelter. Yuri, being King Consort, was informed the same, though he was much less reluctant than his wife.

He and horses didn’t quite get along, after all, and he rode only because he needed to.

Yuri calmly draped an arm around Byleth’s shoulders, tucking her against his side. She gave a soft, happy sigh and snuggled in closer, enjoying his warmth and presence. “You think he’ll try some of his schemes at the Gonerils?” he asked, amused at the very thought.

“Oh, I have no doubts he will. Hilda won’t be pleased.” A pause. “Don’t you dare, Yuri.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest and against her cheek. “Maybe I already have, By,” was his cheeky reply.

Byleth gave a decidedly unladylike snort, wiggling far enough away she could poke him in the side. “If Holst catches either of you, I am going to claim no knowledge whatsoever and let him deal with you as he sees fit,” she muttered, an empty threat. Well… mostly empty.

The former Abyssian clutched a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. “You wound me, Your Majesty, with such cold words.”

Byleth rolled her eyes fondly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Whatever you say, Yuri,” she replied, settling back against him. “Wake me when the rain stops.”

————

He did not, in fact, wake her when the rain stopped… largely because it continued raining for several more hours. And, well… because he fell asleep, too, feeling safe and secure beside the woman he loved. They were both fairly light sleepers – Claude was, as well – which lent itself to restless nights for them all sometimes, but also meant that when their carriage stopped, they were both awake immediately.

It was Yuri who peeked out first, ducking back in before the rain could soak his hair. “We’ve reached the wayhouse for the night,” he informed her. “It looks like the guards are being granted shelter in houses and barns to keep them out of the rain.” He grinned at her. “Your subjects seem to like you enough to make the offer to your people.”

“Our people,” she corrected absently. “I suppose we should go inside, shouldn’t we?”

“Or… we could allow the retainers to take the wayhouse and we just stay here.” His grin was full of mischief… and a little heat.

Byleth couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting… and they had slept for a fair portion of the day. What better way to spend the evening than tiring each other out?

Unfortunately, her sense of propriety won out. “As fun as that sounds, Yuri, I think they would be more scandalized than they already are. And we don’t want to upset our people.” She did, however, scoot closer to him, pulling him down for a long, deep kiss, as much of an apology as he would get. When he was breathless and flushed, she pulled away, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of his lips. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go join our people inside.”

He gave a short laugh, shaking his head, and dutifully followed his wife into the wayhouse.

[argent-vulpine]

The Queen’s Scheme(r)s

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Yuri/F!Byleth/Claude, feat. Judith, Lorenz/Leonie

Chapter Four: The Progress Begins

Read it on AO3

Claude had needed to return to Almyra, leaving Byleth and Yuri in Fódlan to keep on top of things there. He had only been gone a week and she missed him terribly; even Yuri seemed to be moping about a little bit. But, she had a country to run and a church to reform. Sitting idle was not something that she could afford.

“How are repairs to the township progressing?” she asked Seteth on their morning walk around the monastery. Yuri trailed along behind them, ever watchful.

“Hmm… all of the common buildings have been restored. The bathhouse is operational again.” He shuffled a few papers, frowning down at them until he found the one he wanted. “The tavern owner says that he’s stable enough to open back up, and he can use the income to repair the rest. Same with the inn-keep. We’ve employed at least one member from every willing household and are providing them a stipend that is… sizable enough to assist with reparations to their homes.”

She nodded, glancing behind her to see Yuri’s smirk. That had been his idea; Abyss had grown a bit more crowded due to lack of housing in the above. He’d reasoned a lot of them would return home if they had a home to go back to. And if meant getting them solid work? All the better.

Not, of course, that he would ever admit to being that kind of soft.

Rubble from the war had been cleared out, finally, the largest pieces being reused for the streets or buildings where possible. The fields were flourishing, the waters brimming with fish. Things at Garreg Mach, at least, were going smoothly.

“Yuri and I will be going on a progress of Fódlan,” she said almost absently, biting back her smile when Seteth nearly choked. “I trust you to keep matters here going smoothly, and we’ll of course give you our planned route. But I want to see how the rest of the country is faring, make sure that reparations are going as smoothly elsewhere.”

“You have people overseeing that…”

“I do, but I want to see for myself.” She stopped, causing him to, as well. Yuri came up behind her, silent reinforcement. “Seteth, I will not be the same kind of Archbishop that Rhea was. I’ll not be locked away behind these walls. The people of Fódlan need to see me. I am their queen, not just their Archbishop.”

“Besides, how can I make policies for the good of all Fódlan if I’m not out there seeing what people really need? What they want?”

There was a long silence before he sighed, bowing his head slightly in defeat. “You’re right, of course. Rhea… was trying to control the people to prevent another Zanado, but in the process…”

“We’ll do better. We have to do better.”

He nodded. “As long as I have your itinerary. When are you leaving?”

Yuri gave a polite cough behind her; Byleth grinned broadly, over-sweet. “Tomorrow.”

Seteth was a good friend, but he was also so, so easy to tease.

Their first stop, as it turned out, was Derdriu and the former Leicester Alliance. Judith met them on the steps of the von Riegan estate, having been warned of their arrival some days ago. She grinned broadly upon seeing the pair, ushering them inside. “Nader had to go back to Almyra, what with being Claude’s official Almyran retainer or something,” she said by way of greeting. “So it’s been just me and the staff for the last week or so, until yesterday when the first of your guests arrived.”

Honestly, Byleth didn’t even need to be told who it was. She already suspected.

And, upon turning the corner into the sitting room, her suspicions turned out to be correct. At least there were enough cups for everyone.

“Don’t you dare address me by any titles when we’re in my own home,” she began, waving him to silence as he stood.

Lorenz spluttered for a moment, looking affronted. His noble upbringing was at odds with her command, but ultimately, Byleth won out. She was queen (and archbishop) after all. He settled for giving her a perfunctory bow, instead. “I hope your travels were easy, You-… uh… Byleth.”

“Easy enough, at any rate. I see tea has already been prepared. Your doing, Lorenz?” she asked with a smile, gratefully accepting assistance from one of the staff as they helped her shrug out of her traveling coat. It was whisked off to who-knew-where as she approached the table.

Five settings. “Oh, what’s this? Is Leonie joining us, then?” Lorenz gave an embarrassed cough, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

“I’ll go meet her at the door,” announced Judith. “Can’t have that lot of hers getting rowdy on the front stoop, can we?”

Yuri took over for the maidservant, pulling out Byleth’s seat for her and ignoring the fond eyeroll she gave him as he took his own chair. “I’m gonna have to tell Balthus he owes me 50 gold,” he said with a sly grin. “He thought for sure it would be another year.”

That set Lorenz off to spluttering even more, the two exchanging thinly veiled and oddly friendly barbs at each other.

“Here she is!” came Judith’s call, echoing a little through the halls. “Just this way, Leonie,” she was saying, directing the younger woman through the house.

“Oh, Byleth! Sorry I’m late, we were farther afield than I expected to be.” She came into the room, stopping long enough to give the tiniest of bows just so that the servants wouldn’t have anything to gossip about. Not that they weren’t already used to Claude.

For her part, Byleth had to hide her grin behind her hand when Leonie marched over to Lorenz and gave him a very sound kiss.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” the red-head said after, waving off Lorenz’s attempts to stand in order to pull out her chair. The gesture called attention to the ring on her finger.

“Dear, you’d better tell Balthus he owes you double.”

“Ooh, what did you bet on?!” Leonie asked excitedly, leaning forward in her seat. Beside her, Lorenz gave a pitiable groan.

Yuri laughed outright, and began explaining the details of the bet, much to Lorenz’s chagrin and Leonie’s absolute delight. That conversation took them through the steeping of the tea, when things calmed down and they turned their conversation to more serious matters, such as the state of the former Alliance, how the nobles were settling into their new roles, and how restorations were going.

It turned out that Leonie had accepted Lorenz’s proposal – which had been something of a surprise even to him – but had point blank informed him that she would be taking over Jeralt’s old mercenary band. They’d accepted her into their ranks easily, giving way to her leadership without a hitch. For her part, she’d turned them into something of a bandit-hunting unit, dealing with vagabonds and thieves.

Some of the people they’d dealt with had elected to join the group, bolstering the ranks.

The fact that Lorenz hadn’t made much of a fuss showed how much he really had changed. Byleth hid her smile behind her teacup, glancing over at a smirking Yuri. She’d made a good decision, then, forcing his father to abdicate in his favor.

Not that Lorenz would ever need to know that’s what had happened.

“We’ll be spending a week here, making sure everything is going smoothly. I’ll have a day in Derdriu specifically for petitions from the people. Lorenz, I’m trusting you to get that organized. I don’t want nine different audiences for the same exact petition,” she said with a groan. “Make sure they’re all grouped together. Have them pick out a spokesperson, if possible.”

“Leonie, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hire the crew as extra security. I know there’s already criers in the city announcing the forum. Ah, and before I forget, you’re both formally requested at Garreg Mach in three months’ time. The invitations are in my bag; I’ll get them to you later today.”

If only all her meetings could be as relaxed as this. The conversation shifted again, away from official business. Leonie and Judith began exchanging stories from the battlefield, with Yuri and Byleth and even Lorenz occasionally piping up with stories of their own.

Eventually, Lorenz and Leonie excused themselves, promising to rejoin them later in the evening for supper. Judith also took her leave, having correspondence she needed to see to, which left Yuri and Byleth finally alone (alone enough, at least) so that they could unpack their things and freshen up for the evening.

They knew to take their moments of peace when they could; the next few weeks would be rough in many ways.

[argent-vulpine]

The Queen’s Scheme(r)s

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Yuri/F!Byleth/Claude, feat. Seteth

Chapter Three: Rest & Relaxation

Read it on AO3

Seteth, ever the caring (doting) hard worker (over-worker, frankly) had very decidedly forced Byleth to take a day off. No paperwork. No church business. No cardinals’ meetings or construction planning or anything that resembled more than relaxing. He had very firmly told her that the bags under her eyes were unbecoming the Archbishop and that she should get some rest.

He was also a massive hypocrite, but she knew it was pointless to argue. They’d become good friends, despite such a rough start to their acquaintanceship, and she really did trust his judgment, especially in matters regarding the church. Deep down, she thought he would have made a much better Archbishop, but now certainly wasn’t the time to try and shift that authority around.

She’d give it a few years. Maybe.

In the meantime, she would do exactly as he suggested and take a break. If she were being honest with herself, it was much needed and she knew it. The strain of running an entire country – kingdom? – alongside the Church of Seiros was a lot.

There was a pang in her chest, the desire to see and talk to her father stronger than ever. What would he do, in her position? Not that he’d have allowed it. Jeralt the Blade Breaker as crown? She could imagine the look of disgust on his face.

“There’s that smile I love so much,” said a voice at her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. Claude grinned and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “We heard Seteth forced you to take a day off,” he continued, pretending oblivion to the look now gracing her face, “So we decided to help out. Yuri’s already drawn a bath.”

He took her hand in his, giving her a gentle tug. Byleth gave a longsuffering sigh but followed behind him anyway, barely managing to hide her smile.

Claude knew, anyway. He could tell from the way her eyes lit up, the very faint crinkling at the corners. Byleth might never emote as openly as others, but all the little things were there to be read by anyone who cared enough. And he – and Yuri – definitely cared enough. They’d seen the tension building in her shoulders, the way her neck was stiffening, the muscles around her eyes tight with stress.

He wasn’t sure if the spymaster had also spoken to Seteth, but Claude most definitely had.

Thankfully, the advisor had agreed that Byleth needed a break. She didn’t have to know that the concern had come from anyone else. She didn’t like to worry them, after all.

Their trip up to their suite was blessedly short; no one stopped them to talk to Byleth – Seteth’s doing, perhaps? – and so they were able to progress unimpeded.

True to Claude’s word, Yuri was waiting in the bath itself, the water already drawn, heated to exactly how Byleth liked it. Lavender petals had been added to the water, the scent permeating the room.

“You two are too good for me,” she murmured, giving Claude a brief kiss before moving to do the same to Yuri. “Even if you aretroublemakers.”

“Ah, but we’re your troublemakers,” replied Claude with a cheeky grin and an even cheekier wink.

Yuri shot him a look that bordered on annoyed contempt. They all knew it was an act. “Speak for yourself, Khalid. I don’t make the trouble; I deal with it.”

Byleth snorted at that, allowing them both to help her remove the many layers she wore for her duties as Archbishop. “Is that so? What about just last week when I found that trap on the passage leading to Abyss?”

“Well, you can’t be too careful. That door is too close to our quarters and there’s no telling who might find it,” he retorted primly, carefully hanging her robe.

“The trap wards on the terrace?” chimed in Claude, earning a slight frown from Byleth.

“Wyverns and pegasi don’t only belong to the church corps. The wards are to deter unwanted guests from landing.”

“And do those wards know how to tell friend from foe?” Byleth asked, knowing that they didn’t. Or that Yuri hadn’t bothered to have Claude recognized. “You can’t set fire to Khalid and his wyvern just because he poisoned your tea. Although,” she rounded on the man in question with a glare, “You shouldn’t be poisoning his tea to begin with.”

That set off a chain of bickering between the two of them, during which Byleth finished disrobing herself and slipped into the water, sighing happily as the warmth surrounded her, penetrating down to her bones. She tuned them out, used to their antics by now even if the rest of the monastery wasn’t, nor was likely to ever be.

She knew the real people behind the schemes and the pranks – and the vague (or not-so-vague) threats of murder.

Byleth was dimly aware when the bickering stopped; more aware when two bodies entered the very large bath with her, their presence a comfort at her sides. Her eyes were closed, relaxing and resting as she’d been told to do, when one of them – Yuri, she thought – began to carefully wet her hair, using a small cup to pour the water on the green locks.

Claude had one of her hands in his and was gently massaging. Byleth hadn’t even been aware her hands had been that tight, but it certainly explained the increase in cramps of late. Who knew signing papers was more strenuous than wielding a sword?

With Yuri gently washing her hair and Claude massaging her hands and arms, it was no wonder that Byleth drifted off into a light doze. Their careful, loving ministrations reminded her why she loved them in the first place, despite their antics… though she had to admit that their antics had also had something to do with it.

She was only vaguely aware when they helped her out of the bath, drying her off with soft towels. Claude, noting how she was only barely awake, had scooped her up into his arms and carried her to their bed, depositing her gently in the middle while Yuri fussed with the covers, tucking her in.

They left her to sleep and to take care of their own business. Just because Byleth was being made to take a day off didn’t mean they could do the same.

The sun hadn’t traveled that far by the time Byleth awoke, stretching languidly in the bed. It had been perhaps a little more than an hour, but she felt much better than when she’d first woken for the day. Her husbands were nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t surprising. She had missed their comforting presence in the bed, but duties called, she was sure.

One of them had laid out fresh clothes for her, she noted, spotting the pile on the vanity chair.

Might as well get dressed and head out. It wouldn’t do for her to be abed all day. She needed to at least be seen, even if she wasn’t working.

She almost laughed when she saw what clothes had been chosen for her. An outfit resembling her old mercenary garb was laid out – a clear sign that she was neither the Archbishop nor the Queen for today.

Once dressed and with freshly brushed hair, Byleth ventured out of their rooms, giving a smile to her personal guard – the former gatekeeper – who grinned and saluted with a jaunty “Nothing to report!” as she passed.

Byleth took her time heading down the stairs, enjoying a leisurely pace that she maintained even when she took to the halls, nodding her greetings at those she passed. It was almost amusing, really; gone were the days of her zipping through the halls, startling people and causing no small amount of consternation with many of the inhabitants.

It was perhaps unsurprising that she ended up at the little dock on the pond, casting a line out over the water as she settled down, the tips of her boots barely skimming the surface.

She was alone for some time, her basket steadily filling with fish that she would take up to the dining hall when she was done, before she felt the shadow of a visitor fall over her. “Are you finally taking a break of your own?” she asked the shadow, smiling when Seteth huffed out a sigh and joined her at the end of the pier.

He did sit, though he didn’t put his legs over the end as she had. “I was checking in on you… but I suppose it can’t hurt if I take a little break.”

She gave him a slight smile, gesturing with her chin toward some spare rods. He took and baited one from her supply of bait, casting out his own line. “I see Leonie taught you well,” she noted. “You didn’t struggle even a little that time.”

Seteth gave her a look that she knew to be his feigned disapproval. It only made her smile broaden. “Yes, well, she was an invaluable resource.”

“Oh, an invaluable resource, you say? I’ll be sure to let her know you said that when I next have tea with her. She’s due back from the field in the next week or so.”

With Byleth unable to take over her father’s mercenary band, Leonie had decided to give it a shot herself. She’d been earning quite the name for herself. Jeralt would have been proud, she was certain, even if he hadn’t quite understood the woman’s attachment to him. And the group had taken to her easily, to the point she was unquestionably their leader.

They still called themselves Jeralt’s group, though. After all, his name had clout even if the man himself had long passed.

Beside her, her advisor made a strangled sound in his throat, perhaps mild panic. “Please do not tell her I said such,” he finally ground out.

“Mm. Perhaps I won’t.” They fished in silence for several long minutes before Byleth spoke again. “I’m glad that you have made true friends, Seteth. It’s not good to live such a lonely life.”

“I am glad, too. And for you, as well. I wonder… I wonder if Sothis suspected what would happen when you came here.”

“Hmm. Intuitively, perhaps. But she never did say anything.” A pause. “Anything that wasn’t heckling me, at least. Or making comments about others.”

He looked startled at that; Byleth had never before offered up what kind of things had been going on in her head, her secret conversations with the goddess. But the shock wore off and he laughed, a rich sound she didn’t get to hear often. Byleth grinned, pleased with herself as she saw some of the tension drain from his shoulders. “I’d ask what she said about me when first we met, but I’m certain I don’t want to know.”

Byleth hummed in agreement, turning her attention back to the pond. “I miss her voice still, sometimes. But… all the friends I’ve made, they help. I think she would be proud of where we are now.”

“That… that is nice to hear. Thank you, Byleth.”

The conversation drifted away after that, leaving the two in companionable silence until Seteth excused himself to return to work, taking the baskets of fish with him.

Byleth stayed a while longer, not fishing but simply enjoying the way the light played on the water’s surface, before she too rose and left, casting one last glance at the pond.

A fish – the one known as the Goddess Messenger – leapt out of the water, executing a perfect arch, before splashing back down. She smiled and turned, leaving the fish to its fun.

[argent-vulpine]

Hungry for You

Fandom: Changeling (Visual Novel)

Rating: G

Characters: Danny/Nora

Read it on AO3

Plane rides were exhausting, she had come to realize. Using portals was much easier – and faster – but sometimes she had to do things to normal way, and this was one of them… but she still hated it. The air tasted funny – stale – and the snacks they provided were generally pretty tasteless. And it dried her skin out so much that she’d gone through half a tube of lotion and almost an entire tube of chapstick by the end of her trip.

The entire trip had been a necessity, though, and overall she was pleased with the results. There was a lot she’d learned and could put to good use.

Still… this had been the longest she’d been away from home. From him. Because his work at the agency meant he hadn’t been able to accompany her this time.

More disappointing was the fact he couldn’t meet her at the airport, because something had come up. Not that she could fault him for focusing on his work; it was important and he was – in her expert opinion – one of the best agents they had on staff.

An alternative was found, and she spent the ride home mostly zoned out, thinking about what she would do when she arrived.

A long, hot shower followed by a soak did wonders for travel ache and the general gross feeling of being surrounded by so many people. The thought of that put a smile on her face as she stepped into the house, hooking her keys on the rack by the door. Definitely first on the agenda. And then… coffee.

It took her a moment to realize there was something different about the foyer. The vase of flowers – a small, simple bouquet – finally caught her attention, and the weariness she felt slipped a little further away at the sight of them. There was a note beside them, as well, in Danny’s neat, blocky handwriting.

WELCOME HOME.

SORRY I COULDN’T GET YOU FROM THE AIRPORT.

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU LATER.

DANNY

Nora gave a soft snort, amused. It was very like him, but she wondered how he intended to make it up to her. Not that she thought he needed to, of course.

She grabbed the vase and brought it with her to the bathroom, setting it on the counter where she could see it from the tub. The shower she took was quick, but the bath was not, and the delicate fragrance of the flowers was only amplified by the steam, lulling her into a comfortable doze.

The water was definitely on the cooler side when she was awoken by the sound of the front door opening and shutting. Heavy steps she recognized as Danny’s paused – noting the absence of the vase, no doubt – and then continued until he was at the bathroom door. “Nora, are you awake in there?” he asked, voice slightly muffled by the door, though she could still hear the amusement in his tone.

“Nope. I’m absolutely still asleep.” Nora sighed and sat up, pulling the drain plug while she stood – carefully – and reached for a towel to wrap around herself. It dwarfed her, of course, covering up as much as a dress might.

Right as she was tucking the towel into itself to keep it secure, the door opened. “Hmm, looks like you woke up fast enough,” he said, grinning at her. “I see you found the flowers.”

She made a face at him, grabbing the vase and shooing him from the door. “I did. They’re lovely, and they smell nice.” A pause as she tugged him down to her, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like them,” he said before scooping her up, towel and all, and carrying her to the bedroom.

“Danny!” she squeaked, half protest. “I can walk, you know!”

“I know,” he agreed, showing no signs of putting her down. “But I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

He was still holding onto her when he sat on the bed, settling her into his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around her, showing no signs at all of letting go any time soon. Nora gave a fondly exasperated sigh and nestled against him. “I missed you, too,” she murmured, voice soft.

They stayed like that for a while longer, chatting about the conference, what she did while she was in the city, how his work had been going. Eventually she shifted around to give him a light kiss. “Let me up so I can put on clothes. I’m hungry.”

He laughed and released her to get dressed, though he hovered within arm’s reach as she did, clearly not wanting to let her go just yet. “What do you want to eat?” he asked, watching her carefully.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking. “What, you didn’t already plan some fancy dinner or something? I’m surprised.” The flush on his cheeks was all the answer she needed. “You know I’m not picky. What did you have planned?”

That elicited another laugh. He was good enough to wait until she was dressed before he pulled her back against him, kissing her soundly. “I missed you so much,” he said when they parted, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I missed you, too,” she said, smiling gently and pressing her lips against his. “It was lonely without you.”

He clearly felt the same, because his reaction was to only hold her tighter, as if he had no intentions of letting her go again. Time stretched on, until there was no telling how long they had stood there embracing, whispering how much each had missed the other, stealing kisses and touches and simply existing in the other’s presence.

It was rudely interrupted by Nora’s stomach growling. The two of them burst into laughter until Danny finally sighed, stealing one more kiss before pulling away from her. “I was going to cook. Do you think you can wait that long?”

“Hmm… make me coffee and I think I can manage,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

It really was nice to be home with the man she loved.

[argent-vulpine]

The Queen’s Scheme(r)s

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Yuri/F!Byleth/Claude, feat. Ignatz

Chapter Two: Sitting Pretty (As a Picture)

Read it on AO3

Byleth shifted uncomfortably in the seat, keeping her face as still as possible. To either side of her stood Yuri and Claude, each with a hand on her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if they were more uncomfortable than she was, but she imagined standing for as long as they had been was at least equally so.

Ignatz sat before them, his deft hands brushing paint onto the canvas, eyes occasionally squinting as he compared his work to the scene itself, making sure the lighting was right. They’d already sat for him before, to get his preliminary sketches out of the way, and now it was time for him to do the official painting.

The archbishop fought back a smirk at her luck, having claimed Ignatz as a Knight of Seiros before Lorenz could recruit him. She hadn’t forbidden him from taking other jobs, but he now lived at the monastery, and his primary duties now were to be her official artist. And not just for important things like this, but also to just capture life at the monastery: the way the sun set on the hills, the cats lounging in the sunlight, the dogs playing in the streets… and the students themselves, laughing and going about their days.

Reopening the academy had been one of her first goals as newly-confirmed archbishop, although she had made some distinctive changes. Students were no longer sorted by what part of Fódlan, instead being sorted at seemingly random, both to foster relations between the three former nations… and to ensure a healthy mix of skills, since each class worked as a unit on missions.

Another quite major change she’d made had been opening the doors to students from outside Fódlan. Petra had been the first to reach out about it, the Queen of Brigid wanting this new age of peace to broker stronger, healthier relations between their lands, and Claude hadn’t been far behind with talks of having Almyran students.

Change was coming, whether Fódlan was ready for it or not.

And part of that change came in the form of this portrait, depicting herself in her Archbishop regalia, flanked on either side by her husbands in their noble attire. Knowing she needn’t stay perfectly still, Byleth took a brief moment to glance first at one, then the other, feeling their comforting warmth. They returned her glances with soft smiles and gentle squeezes of their hands before their attention was drawn back to Ignatz.

Byleth lost track of time at some point. They’d all conversed for a while in soft tones, but the mostly empty room had echoed with their voices, and they’d subsided when it was clear that it was affecting the painter’s concentration.

A soft clatter brought her back to the present, her eyes snapping toward the sound, tensing up beneath her husbands’ hands before she realized it was Ignatz plunking his brush into a glass of water, a satisfied smile on his face.

“It still has to dry, of course, but it’s finished!” he announced, a bashfully proud look on his face.

She did not run… but it was a near thing, her pace quick enough that Claude and Yuri both had barely registered she’d moved from her seat before she was halfway to the painter. Byleth was a mixture of nervous and excited; she knew that Ignatz was an excellent artist, regardless of his self-deprecating during his academy days. And once she saw the painting itself, she knew she’d done well to commission him for the task.

It was, in a word, beautiful. Breathtakingly so. He’d managed to capture a serene, compassionate look in her features despite the expressionless mask she so often wore. She looked regal, more like the queen she was meant to be than the one she often felt she was. Her tactician and spymaster flanked her sides, looking down at her with such love and affection that she almost couldn’t breathe, seeing it depicted in this manner.

“I took care on the detail of the rings,” Ignatz said at her elbow, giving her a soft smile. “I figured you’d want it to be clear that the three of you are properly together.”

Now that he’d pointed it out, she could see it. She wore a band from each of her husbands, while they wore one from her. She’d had a jeweler recreate her mother’s ring for them, keeping the too-small original for herself, on display in their suite beneath a portrait of Jeralt. The light hit the stones in a way that made them sparkle, drawing the eye to their existence while not distracting from the larger image.

Yes, this is what she wanted the church to represent. Love and acceptance without borders – political or geographical.

On a whim, she turned and hugged Ignatz, ignoring his protests at the supposed impropriety and the sudden wobbling of the adornment on her head. “It’s gorgeous, Ignatz,” she said, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I love it. What do you think?” she asked of her husbands, who’d come at a more leisurely pace and had been studying the painting in silence.

“Excellent use of color,” was Yuri’s first comment. “The way the light comes through, it makes Byleth look radiant.”

“As befitting a goddess.” Claude scrutinized the painting as well, leaning in so close his nose was in danger of touching the paint. When Ignatz nervously cleared his throat, Claude grinned and backed away a hair, straightening up. “It really is a masterpiece, Ignatz. This will look stunning in the great hall.”

“I’ll be working on the copies once this one is safe to move. You’ll have them in no time!” he promised.

They’d agreed that Fhirdiad, Derdriu, and Enbarr would all receive smaller version to hang in their main halls. Technically, those palaces all now belonged to Byleth, though the reality was that she had staffed them with trusted allies – her former students – to begin the reparations and ensure a smooth unification. She didn’t have the time to spend traveling between them as often as currently needed, but she had already scheduled a progress around the country… with Seteth’s approval, of course.

Eventually, Dimitri and Edelgard might be allowed back in their traditional residences, but as dukes, not king or emperor. First, though… first they had a lot to make up for. The people of Fódlan weren’t likely to forget that there had been a war, after all.

Ignatz busied himself putting away his paints and brushes, settling them into the case that had been made special for that purpose. He’d originally claimed it was far too grand a gift, when Byleth had presented him with it, but she’d pointed out that as her official artist, he needed to represent her well. That had been enough to get him to subside.

When he was done, she placed a hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention. “Give me some time to take off this regalia and join us for tea?” she asked, a soft smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“O-of course! I’d be honored!”

“Relax, Ignatz!” Claude laughed and clapped a hand on the young man’s other shoulder. “This is Byleth, your old professor. You don’t have to be so formal with her. Or with us,” he added, gesturing to himself and Yuri. “We haven’t changed just because we have fancy new titles.”

The painter didn’t look too convinced. One day, perhaps he’d learn. And she knew he’d relax once they were actually having tea, away from the potential prying eyes that wandered around the church. It was difficult to relax and be yourself around so many people, she knew. Once they were in clothes that didn’t immediately remind him of their elevated statuses, he’d be much more at ease.

“You have time to put your supplies away. I’ll send Cyril to fetch you when we’re ready.”

“Right! I’ll see you soon, then!” He gave her a broad grin, relaxing a little, before snapping the case closed and picking it up with ease.

Once he was safely out of the room, the door closed behind him and no one else in sight, she flung her arms around her husbands, drawing them to her for a hug and planting kisses on their cheeks. “You both look amazing,” she said, voice soft. “But seriously, let’s go get changed. This headdress is heavy.”

[argent-vulpine]

You Know Me Well

Fandom: Changeling (Visual Novel)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Danny/Nora

Read it on AO3

She was half on top of him in the bed, the covers tangled around their legs and draped partly across their waists. He had one arm wrapped around her, holding her against him while her fingers absently traced the intricate designs of his malofie where the blankets didn’t quite cover it... until he caught her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Stop that,” he murmured, though he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice.

Well… they had already cleaned up and gotten ready for bed. And she was tired - he probably was, too, considering. She supposed she could stop teasing him. So when he let her hand go, she moved it to his shoulder, tracing the tattoo there instead. She felt his soft laugh, but he let her continue without complaint, and the sensation lulled them both into drowsiness until the two drifted off to sleep, comfortable and warm.

Danny was awake before her, of course. She made a soft, grumpy whine when he moved away, but otherwise didn’t stir when he got up. He slipped out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, getting her coffee maker going so it would be ready for her when she finally woke.

It didn’t take long, and he was back in the room and settled next to her on the bed in short order. She pressed against him, seeking his warmth, and he smiled, looking down at her. He thought she was beautiful all the time, but when she was sleeping she was just… so cute. Relaxed and content, the worries of the day not weighing on her.

Like this, it was much more obvious how very small she was. The sheer force of her personality sometimes made it seem otherwise, feisty as she was. But that was one of the things he loved about her.

He picked up the book he’d been reading, some space marines thing that Elliot had recommended him. Danny liked it, how the author had considered maneuvers in space, delays in communication… it was well thought out, and made it easier to get into. It had rules and it followed them in creative ways.

From time to time he’d glance down at Nora, a soft smile on his face every time.

He’d read through a chapter and a half before he glanced down to see her looking up at him, bleary-eyed and a little disoriented. “I’ve got coffee going,” he said, grinning when that seemed to stir her to more life. “Would you like me to get you a cup now?”

Nora hesitated at that. He was warm and comfortable, but she needed her caffeine if she wanted to even pretend to be functional. Finally she nodded, very slowly.

He put his book down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving to get her coffee, returning a minute or so later with a mug full of the steaming liquid.

Nora sat up carefully, her hair spilling around her shoulders, and accepted the brew gratefully, taking a long drink before giving a soft, happy sigh.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were happier to see the coffee than me,” he said lightly, grinning when she turned a mock glare on him.

She deliberately took another drink, staring at him over the lip of the mug, before she finally lowered it. “I can be happy for both at the same time,” she finally returned, making a face at him.

He laughed and sat next to her on the bed, pulling her into his lap - carefully, so as not to spill her coffee - and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I never said you couldn’t.” Danny pressed a kiss to her neck, smiling when she shivered at the touch. “Did you sleep well?”

Nora leaned back against him, nodding slightly.

“Good.” A pause, and then, “Unfortunately for you, lazing about all day isn’t an option today.”

A disgruntled noise made its way from her lips as she turned slightly to look at him. “Why not?”

“We’re needed down at the agency, apparently. Ally bought us some time so you could wake up and have coffee,” he said teasingly, reaching up to tug at a lock of her hair. “But her text made it seem pretty urgent.”

She made a face at that, heaving an aggrieved - and exaggerated - sigh. “I guess if it’s urgent,” she muttered, finishing her coffee. “You’re going to have to let me go, though, if you want us to get dressed.”

His arms tightened around her a little more, clearly not wanting to do that, but after a few more moments of holding her close, he finally released her.

She stood carefully, turning around so she could give him a kiss on the cheek. “One more cup of coffee, and then I’ll get ready.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by his phone going off; her own followed not long after. Ally, of course, reminding them to get in gear and head down to the agency. Nora sighed and shot back an annoyed emote before going to refill her mug. It was going to be a long day… but at least she could look forward to the evening.

[argent-vulpine]

The Queen’s Scheme(r)s

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Yuri/F!Byleth/Claude

Chapter One: Proposals

Read it on AO3

Byleth leaned against the windowsill, peering out of the Goddess Tower, her green hair catching in the breeze and tickling against her cheeks. It was… peaceful up here. She liked it, and the memories associated with it were… good, overall. Well, perhaps not the part where she’d been asleep for five years, only to come trudging up the stairs driven by a promise she’d intended to keep. Finding Claude waiting for her had been good, even if the news of the long war was… less than.

She heard the click of boots on stone - two sets - and straightened up, though she didn’t turn around just yet. A pair of voices accompanied the footsteps; a teasing, cajoling tone answered by the long-suffering (yet still amused) retort of the other. She probably could have understood what they were saying, if she’d really tried to listen, but it was nice to just hear them.

Their voices drew nearer, and she fidgeted. Since when was she a fidgeter?

Well. The circumstances were… unusual. Perhaps it was okay. What would you do in my place, Dad? He couldn’t hear her, of course. Of everyone she’d tried to save… he was the only one she’d been unable to. It still stung, all these years later. The war was over. Finally, blessedly over. Dimitri was getting the help he so desperately needed, and Edelgard had surrendered when Byleth had told her in no uncertain terms what Claude’s intentions were. (She wouldn’t think about how many Divine Pulses it had taken to get the phrasing right, or the timing… She was just glad she had managed.)

“Oh, she’s already here,” said one of the voices behind her, drawing her back to the present. “You wanted to see us, Teach?” he asked. Byleth could hear the grin in his voice as easily as she could picture the smirk on his lips, using such an old term for her. Teasing her, of course.

She very firmly did not roll her eyes - fond as the gesture would have been - and turned around, looking over the both of them. Her Master Tactician and her Master of Spies. They’d happily taken on the roles when she’d asked it of them, knowing that she would need trusted allies in her role as Archbishop of the (slowly reforming) Church of Seiros… and the queen of a unified Fódlan.

Not that Claude didn’t have his own duties to attend. Almyra needed their king, after all, and he’d had to spend just as much time there as he did at her side. Such was the difficulty of running a country and trying to make things work the way he’d dreamed.

Two pairs of eyes - vibrant green and gentle purple - watched her, waiting patiently. They knew her well by now, that she sometimes needed a moment to compose what she wanted to say.

She’d been rehearsing this one for hours now.

“Claude. Yuri.” She reached out her hands to them, the shadow of a smile turning the corners of her lips when they each took one.

“Hey, friend, tell us what’s wrong, yeah?” Yuri was the first to step forward, his brows creasing with worry.

“I…” A pause, and then a deep breath followed by a slow exhale. “You both asked me to marry you.” The men glanced at each other, perhaps shocked by that. Or maybe not. Their expressions were hard to read right now. “And… I love you both. I can’t choose between the two of you.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t imagine life without them, both of them, at her side. Advancing one over the other just felt… wrong. And since she couldn’t choose, she was ready to let them both go. It seemed for the best.

Two pairs of arms were suddenly around her, nearly crushing her between them, and most assuredly engulfing her until she couldn’t see anything but lavender and deep brown locks of hair mingling together. One of them was shaking… laughing?! That was Claude, she could tell by the way the sound vibrated in his chest. Yuri huffed out a sigh. “Knock it off, von Riegan,” he groused somewhere above her.

“Okay, okay, sorry, I couldn’t help it.” They pulled back, though Claude put his hands on her arms, thumbs stroking against her skin soothingly. “Sorry, we’d… we’d come to that realization ourselves not long ago and… neither one of us is giving you up, By.”

“What he means to say is that we’re willing to put up with each other and… be your husbands. If you want us, that is.”

She blinked, mouth parting slightly as her brain tried to register what they were saying. “But… the Church…”

“You are the Church, now, friend, in all the ways that matter. You can set whatever precedent you’d like.” Yuri pressed up against her back, steadying her further, his arms wrapping around her waist. She couldn’t see his face, but she caught the look that Claude shot him. It wasn’t jealous or angry. In fact, Claude seemed… almost relieved?

He had the grace to look a little sheepish when he caught her gaze. “Ah, Teach, don’t look at me like that. Yuri and I get along great. I… I really trust him. As much as I do you.” Now that was saying something. She knew how hard it was for Claude to trust anyone. “And we all know I’m not going to be able to be here all the time. I’d hate to leave you alone like that.”

“You both talked about this?” she finally asked, twisting in Yuri’s arms to get a look at him.

“We did. We both love you, Byleth. And… yeah, I trust him, too. If neither of us can have you for ourselves, well… if you don’t mind putting up with us both, we want that. Giving you up… that’d be too much to ask.”

The tears welled up again, stinging her eyes, but they weren’t sad. Happy tears… she didn’t think she’d ever cried happy tears before. Dad, do you see this? I wish you could be here. She’d have to figure out the ring situation later. Now, though… she flung her arms around her beloveds, pulling them against her, kissing one and then the other, marveling at this new sensation. Love, fulfillment… pure joy.

They stood that way for a long moment before Byleth suddenly groaned. “What will Seteth say?”

————

As it turned out, Seteth didn’t have a whole lot to say on the matter at all. He was still the Archbishop’s advisor, though that title now belonged to her and not Rhea.

Instead he’d merely pulled out a few musty old books that had probably been hiding in Abyss, judging from the layer of dirt and grime on them, and set them on the desk. “There’s precedent. Really old precedent. And most of it was a king with two wives, not a queen with two husbands. But, you’re already becoming known as the Queen of Change, so why not this, too?”

If she didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d almost suspect he sounded annoyed, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m happy for you, Byleth. If anyone can manage this, it will be you.” There was silence for a moment as he shuffled some papers around. “Just… please do try to make them behave, won’t you? At least in the monastery.”

“No promises, Seteth, but I’ll do my best,” she replied with an amused smile.

————

Propriety required that Claude precede Yuri, being of noble birth and a king in his own right, but they’d expected that. There would be another ceremony later on in Abyss, surrounded by their friends, and Yuri would get his moment then. She wanted things as balanced as possible, but even as Archbishop and Queen of Fódlan, she had to placate the nobles somehow. At least for now. And if that meant putting Claude first in the ceremony instead of having them proceed together, well, she’d balance it out however she could. They’d agreed with her solution, knowing it made sense… and that it would make her happy in light of the circumstances.

Marrying Claude was the first step toward unifying their nations, and it was their shared dream, one she was happy to see through to the end. But she wasn’t marrying him - either of them - for that.

And, well, she got to choose their titles. As far as Fódlan was concerned, they were both King-Consort. Technically no real power as far as the populace was concerned, but, well… this was her Master Tactician and her Master of Spies. And her husbands. They already held considerable sway. What was a little more?

She’d teased Yuri about it, saying this legitimized his claim to being King of the Underworld, for who else should run it but him?

The church ceremony itself was long, full of the Fódlan traditions that none of them were the most keen on but which had to be upheld for the stuffy nobles of all Fódlan. (Okay, some of them weren’t stuffy, some of them were her friends who had to act that way for the truly rigid ones, at least for the time being.)

That night, Byleth fell asleep between her husbands, feeling safe and loved.

She knew what they were like. Knew that they loved her, and trusted each other.

It still didn’t prepare her for what was to come.

[argent-vulpine]

Ready Player Two

Fandom: Changeling (Visual Novel)

Rating: G

Characters: Danny/Nora

Read it on AO3

It had gone beyond just cold and into freezing. The chill had set in so much that Nora was halfway to being a popsicle before she made it past her own yard, much less to Danny’s… and he was only next door. She hadn’t bundled up that much, since it was such a short walk, but by the time she reached his house, she was regretting that decision.

He opened the door to find her shivering and already starting to go a little blue at the lips. It wasn’t hard to tell that he really wanted to sigh and chastise her, but instead he pulled her inside and into the living room, pulling out a thick, fluffy blanket and draping it around her shoulders. “I know you own a better coat than that,” he said, gently teasing as she looked up from the blanket.

“Yeah, but it seemed silly! You’re right next door!”

He did sigh at that, shaking his head and settling beside her on the couch when she held the blanket up in invitation. She practically climbed into his lap, earning a chuckle as he wrapped the blanket around the both of them. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think it was a ploy,” he murmured into her ear.

She was still shivering a little - and not just from the cold now - but managed to turn enough to make a face at him. “Are you saying I can’t be sneaky?”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’m saying that you’re not all that good at it,” he agreed, laughing when she tried to elbow him… not that it could do much damage in the first place.

It was very warming, being held by him while wrapped in a thick blanket, and she was feeling much better in little time at all. Her shivering abated, and eventually it was almost too warm. Danny seemed to think the same, because he carefully unwrapped them.

He didn’t seem at all ready to release her, though. “Weren’t we going to play games?” she eventually asked, tilting her head to look at him. “You were going to show me this game that you and Elliot have been so into lately.”

She wasn’t a really big fan of fighting games, to be honest, but… Elliot had given her the puppy dog eyes, and it really was impossible to say no when he did that. So she’d sighed and caved, with Danny promising to show her how it worked and let her practice before they got together as a group. She’d seen them before, after all; their idea of friendly competition could still get pretty intense, even with all the teasing.

Reminding him of why she was over seemed to do the trick, though. He released her, letting her slip off his lap and start cooling back down to a more reasonable temperature.

Of course, it didn’t last all that long. Once they were in his room with the game running, it was just so much easier for her to sit in his lap while he showed her how to do some of the moves, and then she was so comfortable she didn’t want to move… not to mention it gave her an advantage playing against him, as she was somewhat in the way.

When Elliot came over later that afternoon, he was greeted by the sight of Nora still in Danny’s lap, the two of them playing the game and teasing each other. The match ended and they both looked up, grinning. “Mozzie, you made it! Nora’s actually not too bad at this, I hope you’re ready!”

It looked like he was about to toss an extra controller before she grabbed it from him, making a face. “I’ve been painful witness to the results of you trying to throw things at him,” she muttered by way of explanation, offering it to Elliot instead.

He looked a little embarrassed, but took it anyway and, after a moment’s hesitation more, finally settled down beside them and joined in the game. If Danny or Nora were bothered by his joining them, they showed no sign of it, and in fact seemed happy to have him around… even if Nora did start losing a lot more with him playing.