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The soft rain outside steadily picks up into a downpour, water pattering against the window panes of a little inn located in an equally little village. After dealing with the Western Church in Rhodos Coast, their plan had been to head straight to Garreg Mach and camp along the way, but sudden black clouds and the promise of heavy rain made them reconsider that course of action.
Thankfully, they were close to a village and were able to find housing for the night. Their mounts are resting in the stables, safe from the rain, and Byleth won’t have to worry about students sleeping in tents under the torrent of rainfall and the potential cold or other illnesses they could catch.
As Seteth pays the innkeeper, Byleth arranges her class into pairs to share the rooms for the night. Edelgard and Bernadetta, Flayn and Marianne, Ferdinand and Hubert, who’s currently trying to glare a hole in the back of her head for not pairing him up with Edelgard.
Well, by now he should know that his glare doesn’t scare her. She’s more scared of the prospect of Seteth getting mad at the arrangements like they personally offend him and then lecturing her on propriety for an hour, than she is of Hubert’s broody aura. As much as Byleth trusts her students to not try funny things when she needs to pair them together to share rooms or tents, and as much as she actually likes the sound of Seteth’s voice, she would rather avoid one of his sermons now, thank you very much.
Just to spite Hubert, she adds Sylvain to their bedroom arrangement. Hopefully Sylvain will keep them from killing each other; if not, Ferdinand and Hubert might join forces for once to smother the Gautier heir in his sleep.
Byleth gives Ferdinand the key and pats his shoulder consolingly. One of them will have to sleep in a bedroll on the floor and Byleth leaves it in their hands to sort it out however they see fit.
“Linhardt, do you mind sharing a bed with Caspar? Seems we’ve run out of single beds.” It seems safe to pair them together, being long time friends and all.
Linhardt lifts his hand, palm up, looking thoroughly exhausted and ready to collapse at any moment, more so than usual. “I’m already used to how he tosses and turns at night, so it will be fine.”
Byleth drops the key into his hand and turns to Dorothea and Petra. “Would the both of you mind sharing a bed?”
They both get along well enough with their classmates, but they’re closer to one another than the others, so it should be alright. Byleth doesn’t think Edelgard would complain if she were to share a bed, but it would potentially trigger a lecture from Seteth, what with her being the princess and all. The same could be said for Flayn, but that’s obviously out of the question, and Byleth doesn't want Bernadetta or Marianne to feel uncomfortable having to share a bed with anyone.
“Far from it, professor,” Dorothea says, and Petra nods beside her, accepting the key.
“You two better behave," Byleth warns, and Dorothea giggles behind her hand, a blush rising to her cheeks. She pins them with a look before turning to the rest of her students and clapping her hands to get their attention. “Listen up. I want everyone awake at six in the morning so we can have breakfast and leave. We have certification exams scheduled this week, remember? We need to push through and get to the monastery within two days.”
Nodding, her students head up the stairs to their rooms, leaving her and Seteth standing there in the entrance hall as the innkeeper leaves to tend to other customers. “Which room is ours?”
Ours. Her skin already tingles in the few hours they spend together in his office or sharing a cup of tea in the courtyard in normal days. Now, to spend a whole night with him in the same quarters-
“Room twelve,” he replies, passing her the key and motioning with a hand for her to move first.
Up the stairs they go, the sounds of students settling in for the night coming from both sides of the hallway. Byleth catches a few words as they pass, but mostly what stands out are the voices of Hubert and Ferdinand discussing as they try to figure out who will be the one to not sleep on a bed tonight. Although discussing is putting it lightly; they aren’t shouting, but their words are too heated and passionate for such a trivial matter.
She bangs her fist on the door as a warning, catching Seteth’s frown from the corner of her eyes as he stares at the door like he can see past it and into the room. “Keep it quiet.”
“Sorry, professor!” Sylvain calls out. She has no doubts that he’s lounging on one of the beds and watching in amusement as his two temporary roommates fight. Knowing him, he’ll let them continue arguing for a while before he offers to sleep on the ground or- “Hey, why don’t the both of you share the bed?”
A brief pause, and then they are both calling Sylvain a contemptible degenerate or some variation of it. Byleth has heard it all already. She sighs and continues towards the end of the hallway, unlocking the door to their room. Seteth follows a few beats later after staring at the door for a while longer and debating whether or not he should waste his energy trying to get her students to quit it and behave. He decides it’s not worth the effort.
A flick of her wrist and a quick chant under her breath, and Byleth lights up the candles closest to the door, illuminating the room in a soft orange glow. It’s small, but looks clean and comfortable enough. It even has a little table with two chairs placed near the closed window, a screen with a bathtub behind it, a flower arrangement on one of the nightstands-
And only one bed.
Right. She did say earlier that they’d run out of single beds, didn’t she?
Byleth steps further into the room and leaves Seteth at the door to come to the same realization himself. She doesn’t mind sharing the bed, having shared all kinds of sleeping quarters with her father on most occasions until recently, but she doesn’t know how well he will take it. Seteth is the kind of man who values his privacy above all else (definitely not above Flayn’s safety, though), and as much as he’s come to like her over the moons, as much as she likes him (more than a friend, a voice adds in her head, and it’s not Sothis’s, it’s actually Manuela’s), she doesn’t want to push him past his limits.
She sets her bag down by the foot of the bed and declares, “I’ll take the floor.”
“Absolutely not,” comes the immediate retort from the other side of the bed. Seteth sets down his stuff as well. “I am not letting you sleep on the floor.”
“I’m used to sleeping in far worse conditions.” Seteth’s dry look is all she needs to know that it’s the wrong answer. Byleth shrugs, dancing away from the obvious solution and looking for alternatives. She finds nothing. “What do you have in mind?”
“Simple. I will take the floor, and you will take the bed.”
Byleth lifts a brow. “Can your old man body really take it?”
“Excuse me?” She presses her lips together to hold back a smile as he shoots her an affronted look. It’s so easy to ruffle his feathers. And fun, she admits. Teasing him is more fun than she thought it would be.
“Weren’t you the one who said your age was catching up to you just a few hours ago?” Seteth’s offended frown deepens, bordering on a scowl, and she waves a hand in his direction, deciding to take pity on him. “I’m just messing with you.”
“It seems to me, Professor, that you have been spending too much time around Claude for these tea parties .” He nearly spits the words out like they’re venomous, but he’s the one who meets up with her for tea at least twice a week, if not more, much to her delight.
Byleth offers him a halfhearted shrug. “Hmm, maybe so. I’ll make another suggestion then. We share the bed.” There, now the cat’s out of the bag. That way both of them should be satisfied: he will not have to see her sleeping on the floor, and she will get to share a bed with him. Win-win.
She’s expecting him to turn it down immediately, but Seteth actually ponders on her offer, hand cradling his chin as he seems deep in thought. He even glances at the bed to gauge its size, likely to see if it’s big enough for them to sleep without touching each other in any way throughout the night.
After a few moments of contemplation, he nods. “Very well.”
“Great,” she manages after a few tries, finally finding her voice, and it’s strangely high pitched. “Now everyone’s happy.” She sets the Sword of the Creator propped up against the nightstand, close to her reach should she need it, and sits down on the edge of the mattress to unlace her boots and take off the knee brace. While Byleth had been looking forward to it, now that she’s gotten herself in this situation, she doesn’t know what to do.
“You can bathe first, if you would like.” He offers, the mattress dipping slightly as he sits on the other side of the bed.
Nodding, Byleth stands and takes her bag behind the screen. She’s acutely aware that he can probably see her shadows as she undresses, and the thought of having just a screen between her very naked self and Seteth sets her skin on fire. It’s fine, this is fine! She can handle this.
Byleth sinks into the tub, her body hot enough as it is that she doesn’t need to heat the water up. She cleans herself as quickly and thoroughly as she can, ears picking up the rustle of fabrics and items as Seteth moves on the other side of the room. Her eyes are pointedly turned away from the screen and his moving silhouette, focused on her pinkening skin as she scrubs her limbs to distract herself.
Done with her bath, she towels herself dry and slips into a fresh change of loose clothes. It won’t do to have showered and then slip into bed next to him in a smelly outfit. Casting a simple fire spell under the tub as courtesy to heat the water for him, Byleth walks around the screen to find Seteth sitting by the table, a book in his hands. Even from a distance, she can see the tight set of his jaw and the deep frown as he stares at the pages, the white knuckles of his hand as he clutches the book tightyly. He looks like he’s in pain.
“Are you okay?” He jolts at the sound of her voice, nearly knocking the candle on the table over. “If there are any injuries Marianne missed, I can try to patch them up if you’d like. My white magic is passable at best, but I know how to dress a wound.”
Seteth clears his throat and recomposes himself in record time, closing the book silently and standing from the chair. “It is nothing. I was merely deep in thought.”
“I see...” She steps aside to clear the way. “Bathtub’s yours.”
He drops his book on the nightstand by his side of the bed ( his side; she wouldn’t mind if this actually became a thing) and then disappears behind the screen. Byleth busies herself with setting aside her outfit for tomorrow, but the task itself doesn’t take long enough. When she turns around again, she sees Seteth’s silhouette taking his shirt off, spine arching as he takes the hem into his hands to lift it up over his head-
Byleth wrenches herself away and stalks to the window to watch the rainfall, blood thrumming in her ears and nails digging into her palms. Attracted to him as she might be, she’s not about to start spying on him. That’s creepy, and he’s a student’s father. Not that the latter would be much of a problem if something were to change in their relationship, but she wouldn’t be able to look Flayn in the eye anymore if they were to never become more than this.
Exhaling, Byleth rubs her temples as the first lightning streak crosses the sky. She thinks of Caspar, but he should be fine with Linhardt as company. It’s a good thing they decided to rent rooms for the night.
By the time Seteth emerges from behind the screen, Byleth has already gone over the plans for the next day three times. The rain is too harsh for her to hear if her students, mainly Sylvain and his roommates, are being rowdy or if they’re actually sleeping, but she will choose to trust them once more. They’re big kids, and she’s not about to go knocking on their doors like there’s some kind of curfew.
Seteth is dressed in much simpler clothes than what she’s used to. They look worn out, but still in good condition and seemingly soft, like a well loved shirt. She stays by the window as he pulls back the sheets, watching as he settles in on his side of the bed-
“Well?” One of his brows is quirked up. She can only hope he can’t see the flush on her cheeks now that he’s put out most of the candles.
“Sorry. Caspar’s afraid of lightning, so I was wondering if he’s okay.” The words come to her easily, and she fakes confidence as she walks over and slips under the covers. She hadn’t realized how cold she felt until the soft blankets were covering her legs.
Seteth hums noncommittally and blows out the candle on his bedside. “I was not aware of that.”
“Yeah, I found out about it when I found his lost charm.” Byleth puts out her candle as well and turns to lie on her side, facing the window. “Anyway, don’t tell anyone that. He’d be upset if it got out.”
“My lips are sealed,” he replies, and then silence settles.
Awkward, heavy silence.
Both of them are very good at masquerading their uneasiness and any other feelings in countless kinds of settings, but the tension between them is as heavy as the fog in Magdred Way. Seteth is lying so stiffly in bed he could pass as a corpse, and Byleth usually tosses and turns for a comfortable position until she settles down when hugging something to her chest. The thought of embarrassing herself in front of him by curling up around her pillow is mortifying.
Nothing to be done, now. It’s too late to wake Flayn up and switch places with her, so Byleth will push through this like a champ. She can tackle this professionally. Sooner or later, she would have to share a room with Manuela or Hanneman. It’s only natural that she would have to share a bed with Seteth at some point. Yes, that makes sense.
And yet, Byleth can’t let things stay as they are. She will never get some sleep unless Seteth relaxes, and he’s not going to relax until she falls asleep. Byleth twists her torso to look at him over his shoulder, observing his dim silhouette and the clasped hands resting on his stomach.
“You can read your book if you want,” she offers quietly. “The candlelight won’t bother me. I don’t mind.”
Lightning strikes again, illuminating the room briefly and just enough for her to catch him looking back at her. Something inside her flips. “Is this another ‘I have slept in worse conditions’ conversation?”
Byleth’s lips curl into the faintest smile. “Not really. I happen to know you can’t sleep unless you read for a while.”
She can’t see it now, but she’s sure he’s raising his eyebrows. “And how would you know that?”
“Flayn told me recently.” A soft sighs escapes him, and her smile widens. Flayn is often sharing with Byleth tidbits of their personal lives that Seteth would rather keep to himself. “But I had already noticed it. When we were headed to Gronder Field, you would be the last one to retire for the night. The same thing happened a few days ago going to Rhodos Coast.”
“Is there a reason why... You would be watching me?”
Heat crawls up her cheeks, and of course lightning strikes just then. If he reacts to the sight of rosy skin, she doesn’t know. “You were always watching me in the monastery when I first arrived,” she retorts and turns to face the window again. “It’s only fair that I am allowed to do the same.”
Seteth makes a noncommittal noise, and the bed shifts as he sits up. Shortly after, the dim glow of a candle fills the room, and he settles down with his book, the soft rustling of the pages oddly comforting. “Sleep well, Byleth.”
The usage of her name fills her stomach with butterflies. Byleth closes her eyes and nuzzles into her pillow. “Goodnight, Seteth.”
Being and living with mercenaries her whole life, Byleth’s internal clock is long past used to rising with the sun. She’s usually one of the first people to awaken in the monastery when the cathedral bell strikes six. Even in her free days, sleeping in is rare, unless the week demanded more from her than what she could give.
She stirs awake, pressed up against something solid and warm. It reminds her of when she would sleep close to her father in the harshest winter nights to share body heat. However, it’s not that cold yet-
And her father isn’t here.
That realization makes her notice some other things as well, like the taut muscles beneath her hand, and the arm curled around her shoulders. Not for the first time she’s struck with Seteth’s usual smell of musk, paper and ink, laced with the leftover scent of the ocean breeze from Rhodos Coast that clings to him.
‘Okay,’ she thinks to herself, experimentally flexing the fingers resting on Seteth’s stomach. His muscles flutter in response. They’re harder than she expected for a man that spends most of his day in his office. ‘Keep it cool.’
“Oh my, this is going to be interesting,” Sothis purrs, far too amused to Byleth’s liking, and so Byleth shoves the goddess to some corner of her mind where she won’t bear witness to this.
Byleth lies there for a while longer, not only to allow herself the guilty pleasure of savoring this moment that will never happen again, but to listen to his breathing and assess more of the current situation. Slow, deep and even. Definitely asleep. Now is a good time as any to extract herself from his side and pretend this never happened for his sake.
Slowly, Byleth moves and lifts herself up on one elbow, mindful of the slumbering man by her side. Except, when she lifts her head up, her eyes meet with green ones.
Seteth is awake.
“...” Nowadays, Byleth always makes sure to mask her surprise at any given moment, if not to prevent enemies from thinking they’ve gotten the upperhand, then to not give her students the satisfaction of catching her off guard. She can’t keep her eyes from widening right now, though. “Good morning…?”
The hand on her waist remains in place, firm and warm. “You move an awfully lot when you’re asleep, professor.”
“I... do?” The words are barely out of her mouth, and already she can’t remember what he said. She feels so lightheaded at their closeness and his warmth.
Seteth nods with a seriousness that seems misplaced for this moment in time. “For the first thirty minutes, I was sure you were having an unrelenting nightmare. You were restless, tossing and turning. And then you stopped.”
Byleth blinks at him, feeling rather stupid and also breathless for some reason. “Why...?”
“You hugged me,” he says nonchalantly, and her heart would have stopped if it were beating in the first place.
“S-Sorry.” Byleth really tries to extract herself from his hold now, and she’s not subtle about it, but Seteth won’t let go . “Seteth?”
He watches her face and searches for something, and she can’t even imagine what it is he sees. Her stomach drops when he clears his throat and his arm uncurls from around her, his whole demeanor now awkward as a wave of coolness washes over her. “My apologies. It seems like I have misread the situation and caused you discomfort. Please, forget this ever happened.”
She’s properly sitting up when he’s done speaking and asks, very eloquently, “What?”
Seteth gives her a slightly pained look. It’s not one she’s seen before; the expressions he wears are stoic, exasperated, fond (usually when it comes to Flayn) or a muted smile that appears once in a while when they have tea. She doesn’t know how to read this one. “Are you really going to make me spell it out for you, professor?”
“Yes?” Byleth scoots backwards as he sits up in bed as well. “Why are you apologizing? I was the one who clung to you during the night. I bet you didn’t even get a wink of sleep because of me.”
“I slept very well, actually.” She can only stare at him, because, again, what? “But that doesn’t matter now. I apologize for overstepping my boundaries. I should not have assumed anything.”
“Assumed- Seteth. What are you talking about?” Few things in life tick her off; not understanding something fully is one of them. Her life since coming to the Monastery has been stressful as it became glaringly clear that Byleth doesn’t know or understand the full truth of her existence. The last thing she needs is Seteth adding more to it.
The man in question leans closer to her, close enough that she can see the specks of other colors in his green irises. The sudden proximity leaves her dizzy, and she sucks a breath through suddenly dry lips, softly biting down on them.
His gaze flickers down, but quickly returns to her eyes.
“I am talking about of how fond of me you seem to be lately.” He begins, watching her for a reaction. “You invite me for tea more often than you used to, you pay me visits in my office over the littlest things, me and Flayn have become your favorite dining partners, you always seem to appear in the cathedral when I am there.”
“Is... Is that a problem?” She doesn’t mean to, but Byleth holds onto his shoulders to keep herself upright, her head spinning too fast.
His piercing look flickers with concern before he continues. “Far from it. And just recently I find out you like to watch me, too. That explains why, when I look over my shoulder in the Monastery, chances are I will find you there.”
Byleth manages to fill her lungs with enough air to clear her head and manage a reply. “I didn’t mean to- to creep you out.”
Seteth’s frown returns, and he keeps quiet for a few moments as he watches her. “I find it hard to believe that one of the best strategists of Garreg Mach can be this dense. Unless you are faking it?”
“No, I mean-” Byleth squeezes her eyes shut and pushes him away gently. She needs some space and air if she wants this conversation to get anywhere. “I’m sorry if my... Actions have put you off.”
“You really are dense, are you not?” He sighs, but there’s a fond edge to it. It makes her risk a look at him to find a hint of a smile on his face. “Byleth, have you noticed I take detours to talk to you if I spot you in the Monastery? Or that I always end up standing by your side in the cathedral? Or that me and Flayn invite you to sit with us just as much as you do?”
Slowly, Byleth shakes her head, averting her eyes again. Seteth goes on, unbothered and still watching her intently. “When you show up in my office for whatever reason, I am glad I can get to take a break and talk to you at once. I let you cuddle me during the night. Can you understand now that I reciprocate your feelings?”
“You- oh.” Her eyes widen, peering at him from beneath her bangs as a flush rises up her cheeks. The admission fills her with a foreign warm feeling as shyness takes over her, and Byleth feels more out of her element now than she felt back on day one in the Monastery.
He leans further backwards to increase the space between them when she fails to respond properly. “Have I really misread the situation?”
“You haven’t! I just-” she rushes to say, but no words come. She feels inadequate, having only recently learned how to feel actual emotions and not knowing how to deal with them still. Byleth doesn’t have past experiences with friendships, let alone relationships of the romantic kind, to guide her now.
Seteth nods to himself after a moment of silence. “I see. Let me make this easier for the both of us.” For a moment, he looks like he’s going to hold her hand, but thinks better of it. She wishes he would take it. “Should you wish to... Initiate a relationship with me, I could guide you through it, at your own pace. How does that sound to you?”
Byleth considers his offer and nods. “At my pace?”
“Yes,” he confirms simply, patiently waiting for an answer. She believes he would wait for centuries if she asked that of him.
“Would you kiss me now?”
Pink spreads across his cheeks, and she wishes to never forget the sight of him blushing. But also, that sudden display of shyness emboldens her some, and Byleth closes the space between them again. “Already?”
“Isn’t it how this goes? Dating?” Her hands return to his shoulders, his muscles firm beneath the thin fabric of his nightshirt.
“There are some things that can be done before a first kiss. Like going on a date, or courting.” Seteth explains, jaw setting in place as she begins to thumb at the base of his neck.
Byleth hums, watching his throat bob as he swallows. Of course she knows all of that already, but she can finally kiss him and she’s not delaying this moment anymore “Will you take me on a date? Or give me flowers?”
He frowns softly at her request. “With the White Heron Cup and the ball approaching, I am afraid I cannot afford to leave the Monastery for too long, but I can treat you to more tea in my office, if that would be sufficient to you for now.”
“That would be sufficient, yes.” Byleth holds her breath as he lifts a hand up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He looks almost wistful as he traces the rounded tip of her ear, and she can’t fathom why. “So, about that kiss...”
Seteth chuckles quietly and cups her face, bringing it closer. “Eager, are we?”
The first kiss is simple, chaste and sweet, just a press of his lips to hers that lingers enough for her to feel the soft texture of his mouth. He pulls away too soon to watch her reaction. “Do it again?”
He complies with a slight smile, and before she can try to change the gentle press of lips into something else, Seteth pulls away again. She playfully tugs at his hair in retaliation, and the sound he makes ignites something in the pit of her stomach.
“Kiss me properly,” she demands, giving him her best intimidating look. Byleth rises to her knees to look down at him, entwining her fingers together behind his neck.
Seteth only lifts a brow in amusement, his other hand coming to rest on her hip. “And how do you know I’m not kissing you properly?”
“You seem to have forgotten I am friends with Manuela.” She has heard many, many details about her friend’s romantic and sex life that could probably scare someone as proper as Seteth, not to mention all the stories heard in her father’s mercenary bad. She knows what to expect of something like this, even if she has no prior experience herself.
“Ah, that is correct.” He doesn’t seem inclined to rush and do what she wants, though. His thumb follows the gentle curve of her jawline, smooths over her bottom lip and stops at the corner of her mouth. “We probably have morning breath, however.”
Byleth huffs quietly, turning her face to kiss the pad of his thumb. His eyes darken at the gesture, so she does it again, thrilled at his reaction. “I don’t mind.”
A low sound rumbles in his throat as his grip on her hip tightens and becomes a touch possessive. The hand on her face moves to grasp behind her neck, thumb digging into the space behind her ear. “You will be the death of me.”
She manages a breathless laugh before he’s kissing her again, properly this time.
The kiss is still sweet, but different. His lips part and she follows his lead, tilting her head to slot their mouths together. With the new angle, the kiss becomes better. The hand on her waist flexes appreciatively, and Byleth loops her arms around his neck, inching herself as close to him as she can, curious and hungry for more of this.
His tongue tentatively sweeps over her bottom lip, asking for her permission to wander in further. Byleth trembles as her tongue meets with his in a clumsy, but still deliciously enjoyable kiss. She’s a fast learner, and she’s confident that she will get the hang of this before long. Byleth wants him to enjoy this as much as she does. She wants him to want to do it again and again.
Seteth pulls away to allow her a moment to catch her breath, his face still close, his panting breaths mingling with hers. The sight of his blown pupils makes her shiver, and before long he’s the one looking down at her. She’s always been aware of their height difference, but somehow it seems more pronounced now that they’re in bed together and the clothes he wears don’t hide his build. It never crosses her mind to resist him as he guides her down to the mattress, her legs parting naturally to better accommodate his weight on top of her.
Her head is clouded again, but it’s a better haze than the last time. There’s no confusion, only a desire to be closer to him, to continue the exploration. Her hands squeeze his arms, feeling the muscles beneath, palms tracing up to his shoulders and down to his chest. She’s transfixed by him, and he notices it.
“What was it you said?” He asks, his voice low and rough, a tone that sets her blood on fire. “That I have an old man body?”
Byleth digs her fingers into his waist, her thighs squeezing his hips as more heat concentrates between her legs. “I take it back.”
Seteth’s smile turns smug, and it does things to her insides, especially when she takes in the whole picture, the disheveled hair and softness of his features, no longer serious and tense as she sees every day in the Monastery. His face is still wrinkled with marks of the bed sheets, and he looks much younger now in the early light of dawn.
She kisses his mouth just because she can, watches as the smugness fades and gets replaced by a soft smile that he usually reserves just for Flayn. Byleth can feel herself getting shy again, so she pulls him down fully for another kiss, his chest pressing down on her in the most satisfying way. A hum rises up her throat as his tongue sweeps into her mouth again, and another quiet noise follows as his hips lower to hers, a distinctive hardness pressing against her core. Everything about this feels so right. So perfect.
“Professor!” A series of pounds on the door pry them apart, with Seteth somehow flinging himself so far away from her that he’s on his feet beside the bed while she’s still lying there, stunned and aroused. It’s Caspar, knocking relentlessly on the door. “Ferdinand and Hubert are trying to kill Sylvain!”
Byleth sighs to herself, hiding her face in her palms as desire and disappointment clash inside her. “Just a sec!” She should have known that her harmless, playful thought would manifest into reality. She just hadn’t expected it to interrupt her first make out session with Seteth.
She tosses the sheets to the side and shoves her feet into her boots, shooting him an apologetic smile as she walks to the door. Byleth can’t think of anything to say now, and seemingly neither does he, so she slips out of the room to deal with her troublesome students, unceremoniously kicking their door open. One of them shrieks at her sudden appearance, and Byleth finds she’s too annoyed to find it amusing in any way.
“The three of you,” she begins, pointing at the cluster of bodies on the floor, “are on weeding duty for the rest of the month!”
Once she properly chews them off and all her students are well fed, they prepare to set off again. Byleth looks over the map with Petra once more, then helps some of the students pack their mounts for the long ride back home. She notices that Ferdinand and Hubert are actively avoiding each other, with Edelgard observing Hubert in her usual overly analytical, assessing way, and Dorothea trying to smooth Ferdinand’s ruffled feathers.
Sylvain is whistling to himself just outside, checking the buckles of the saddle tied around his horse. “Sylvain,” she calls, taking her horse out of the stable by the reins. “Can I talk to you?”
“Of course, professor.” He gives her his flirtiest smile, but she isn’t moved. She never is. At this point, she doesn’t know if he does it just to tease her, or if he’s so far into this charade that he can’t stop. “What is it?”
“What was that all about?”
He snickers quietly, patting his horse’s flank. “Shortly after you left last evening, I actually fell asleep on the bed. I was intending to take the floor, but well, it just happened.”
Byleth nods along. That was exactly what she had expected him to do. “Carry on.”
“Turns out, they actually took my joke to heart. I woke up to see them sharing the bed. Spooning , professor. Did you know Hubert is the little spoon?”
She tries to keep her face even. Really, she does. Byleth makes sure to never show her amusement outwards in the presence of other students in moments like this, lest she offend someone in some way or they get relentlessly teased by their peers, but she can’t quite stop the corner of her lips from quivering.
Of course, Sylvain doesn’t miss it. His grin widens, and for once it looks genuine. “Keep it to yourself,” she warns after wrestling her facial muscles into submission, and walks away only after he offers her a sharp salute and a vocal confirmation.
Seteth is tending to his wyvern a fair distance away, and turns to face her as she approaches. “Is everyone ready?”
“We should be fine to leave in a few minutes,” she answers, casting a look at her students for confirmation, but also to ensure that there are no prying ears too close. “So, are we...?” She makes a vague motion between them, unsure how to finish that sentence.
Thankfully, he understands. The usual rigid lines of his face ease some as he offers her a small smile. “I thought you already said we were dating, professor.” There it is again, that smugness resurfacing. Byleth finds that she doesn’t mind it at all. “But perhaps we need to do some actual talking the next time we’re alone to clear some things up.”
Byleth nods, agreeing that it’s the most sensible thing to do. Last time, just an hour ago, she’d been too intoxicated by his proximity to pay attention. “When?”
“I believe I should be free this Sunday.” Seteth clasps his hands behind his back, maintaining the picture of professionalism for the students just now exiting the stables. “What tea would you like to have?”
“Hm? I like peppermint, but if you want four-spice, that’s okay.”
“Peppermint it is.” Seteth shakes his head and holds his hand out. She takes it and allows him to aid her with mounting her horse. She doesn’t actually require help, but it’s an excuse for some prolonged physical contact. “Have Manuela take a look at your knee, professor.” He says louder as the students come closer. “It’s going to hinder you on this month’s mission if this keeps up.”
“Will do.” She nods, and he offers her a discreet smile before turning to mount his wyvern.
Seteth, Flayn and Petra take to the skies, wyvern and pegasi circling overhead as Byleth and the rest of the students ride on their horses towards Garreg Mach. Byleth often finds herself looking up at him soaring above, relishing in the majestic sight he makes, and sees him looking down at her as well.
Sunday can’t come by fast enough.