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seraphiism · 1 year

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𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

( my dear, i will always be this tender for you. )

chara : m!byleth fandom : fire emblem: 3 houses quote cr : sanober khan a/n : reader is also a professor! thank you for the comm :^)

i. the transition from mercenary to professor is certainly not an easy one, byleth recalls, memories of previous months at the academy blurred and faded to black. how drastically his life changed, an isolated warrior who knew so little of a life outside battle suddenly responsible for the future and wellbeing of many. it is a heavy weight, this role, and surely he is not alone in this feeling.

that’s the hope, at least– but his typically neutral expression always says so little, no one even thinks to complain about their job in comparison to a professor that’s been thrown to the wolves. it doesn’t help that he has yet to witness anything but your calm demeanor as a fellow teacher; how envious he is at times, watching in curiosity as you offer advice for the tenth time to your students. whether it’s tutoring hours, lunch hours– there’s always someone running up to you in a panic, though you are quick to make it dissipate in a moment’s notice.

byleth does not know much about dance or what it is like to be a dance professor, but he can only assume it is as difficult as it looks.

so that’s how he finds himself in your office, intentions fully focused on seeking advice until he does, in fact, realize that he is not the only teacher that seems more stressed than they let on. it is both humorous and mildly concerning, he thinks, watching you hurriedly organize scattered documents, mumbling frantically to yourself.

he wonders if he should come back at a better time, act like he didn’t see this for the sake of your pride. he tilts his head, clueless, contemplates his options for a few seconds, and loudly clears his throat.

“do you need help?”

you look up, match his gaze, and it is almost strange how quickly the stressed countenance turns into one of absolute relief at the mere sight of him. how embarrassing it is to be caught in such a manner.

“i’m always like this when it comes to lesson plans.” mildly distressed, you laugh ( slightly ) nervously and scratch your cheek. “if you have spare time, i’d really appreciate it.”

“what do you need?”

you wring your hands together, smile sheepishly as he raises a brow at you.

“let me teach you?”

byleth blinks once, twice. this is most certainly not what he expected, nor what he came for, but perhaps being a professor is not bad, after all.

( no, byleth does not know anything about dance, but for you, he is willing to learn. )

ii. so it turns out you’re always like that before each lecture. you can’t explain it, you tell him, sighing in defeat for the fifth time in two minutes. teaching? easy. preparing the lesson? terrible. horrid. you cannot imagine anything worse. there’s always a hint of self doubt that lurks in your mind, makes you wonder if you’re teaching these students adequately enough to help them in their future endeavors.

– which ultimately leads to byleth being your student of sorts ( you guess, which sounds kind of strange now that you think about it ). you can’t count how many times you’ve done a practice run of your seminars to him, and here you are now, hands on his shoulders, words gentle as you instruct him.

“how am i doing?”

between trying to evaluate yourself in the way you provide instruction and the repetitive sway of the dance, your thoughts drift elsewhere. the sound of his voice anchors you back to reality, eyes widening as you come back to focus, accidentally taking a minor misstep that ( unfortunately ) results in you stumbling right into the other. his arms wrap around you in secure hold, but only for a second before you’re scrambling to save what little dignity is left.

“so sorry.” you blurt out, clearing your throat and absentmindedly wiping the imaginary dust off your uniform. “i didn’t mean to– uh,” your face burns so much. you may as well be in the sun. on the sun, even. “you’re doing great.” you tell him in the most normal way possible. “i think you should probably teach me, actually.”

you sigh, bury your face in your hands as if it’d hide the shame. byleth doesn’t quite catch what you mumble, something about the gods punishing you, he’s not quite sure. there is a kind feeling that envelops him, instinctively brings the faintest of smiles to his lips. how amusing it is, seeing someone so normally composed so worked up.

softly does he call your name, but in your distress, it does not reach you. so instead, he steps forward, touch light as he pulls your hands away to reveal a flustered expression. his smile grows, and perhaps there is something all too endearing in this time you have spent together.

“you teach very well.” he tells you, his voice quiet yet warmer than you’ve ever heard it. “i admire you.”

( & when you resume the dance lesson, minds far too occupied with that moment of earnest, you almost think he holds you a little closer than before. )

iii. “something on your mind, kid?”

byleth has never been one to express his emotions openly, visage nearly a blank slate at most times. there are few who can understand him with such ease, and jeralt is proud to say he is one of the few. after all, what kind of father would he be if he couldn’t understand his own son?

there is a hesitation that adorns the professor’s countenance– the slightest furrow of the brow, a pursing of the lips ; rarely is it that he wields such a concerned expression, and rarely is it that there is anything that causes him to worry. jeralt stiffens, sits up a little straighter when he notices. there are too many things that could go wrong at the monastery– too many possibilities, too little time. what has happened? has his son been threatened? has someone–

“i think i am in love.”

( there are many times where byleth has frightened jeralt to the point where he believes he may have a heart attack. this is one of them.

byleth does not think he has ever witnessed someone go through all the stages of grief simultaneously. )

iv. byleth has never really heard those typical life lectures from his father, but he is most certain that he triggered one. a very long one, actually, and he thinks he may or may not have zoned out during some of it. he supposes it might be a little shocking, seeking his father out for advice on a delicate topic. he has never been one to think about romance until recently– not until he began interacting with you more.

“you know,” you start, watching his form with both amusement and approval, “i don’t think you have to suffer through my seminars and dance practices anymore. you’ve got everything down.”

( and if you have to be honest, you’re surprised that you both became so invested in this, spending so much time together to improve each other as professors. )

“i enjoy it.”

with his hands on your hips and yours on his shoulders, you fall into the motions, all the right steps taken and memorized with absolute perfection. he has helped you immensely through this all– you’ve noticed that lesson planning goes much smoother as of late, although there are some occasions where he does catch you in a frenzy, hovering over your desk as if the next seminar may end your life.

“you like hearing me teach? or you like dancing with me?”

there’s a teasing tone to your words, a blithe smile resting on the curl of your lips. you don’t expect him to look at you so thoughtfully ; you may be overthinking when you see something different in those blue eyes, but you swallow hard, hold your breath instinctively. he feels reluctance claw at a still heart, but there is such a curious tenderness in the way you look at him that he cannot remain silent any longer.

“both. i would like you to be my partner, actually.”

you pause, almost stumble over your steps once again.

“your dance partner?”

you can almost hear the wheels turning in his head. he doesn’t have the slightest clue what a proper confession is, nor does he know how to go about it. he doesn’t think he’s ever felt such fear in his life.

“if you’d like.” he says slowly, contemplating his next words. “but i would like you to be my partner in general, as well. i–”

he reflects on his father’s advice, practically hears the echoes of his words. byleth has always been a straightforward individual, maybe too straightforward, so maybe now is not the time to–

“byleth?”

there is a sense of urgency in the way you call his name, catching him before he drifts off too much in musing. no, perhaps he should not start out with an ��i love you.’ but maybe–

no. he will keep it simple for now, take things slow.

“i am… very fond of you. i want to be with you.”

you want to think he’s joking, think that maybe claude thought it would be funny to set up such an elaborate prank on you, but there is nothing but genuine adoration in his eyes. you wonder if he can sense your reciprocation of such feelings.

“i want to be with you, too. i–” you pause, feel your face on the verge of exploding from the heat, “i’m also fond of you, byleth.”

the relief on his face is nearly palpable, shoulders lowering as he lets out a sigh. with a gentle smile, he welcomes you into his arms, holds you ever so tenderly as you bury your face in his chest, half in embarrassment, half in affection. the air is filled with peace, his embrace slowly lulling your heart to a calm. you think you could stay in this moment for years to come.

“lesson plans and confessions break your composure, i’ve noticed.”

you lied.

“shut up, byleth.”

( he kisses your temple gingerly, feels a strange sensation in his chest at the sound of your laughter. it almost feels like a beat, a quickening, this quiet knowing of a love that resides in a heart. )

#fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #byleth x reader #m!byleth #fire emblem three houses x reader #.: writing #.: commission #fire emblem is so funny yet difficult to write when it comes to confessions bc canonly the game is like #s rank: btw . i love you. wear this ring rn .

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butwhatifidothis · 6 months

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You call it dangerous rhetoric, but Nabateans are not real. I don't think someone's attitude towards them should be used as an RL morality meter. That's typical anti thinking that equates opinions about fiction to RL opinions and politics. Edelstans do it too, like saying you are conservative or centrist and worse for liking Dimitri. The other problem is, that by calling these opinions about Nabateans Nazi stuff, you effectively water down what the term Nazi really means. Nazis threaten real people, not pixel dragons. It's the same problem with antis calling fictional romance and nsfw with underage characters "grooming" or "child p0r*n". It also waters down the very serious issue of CP featuring actual children. Call it gross, fine. But maybe only call Edelstans or any other Nabatean haters Nazis when they actually threaten RL people instead of fictional dragon people. People vilify and hate on various characters in gruesome ways all the time, but that's not the same as being a Nazi. Please stop watering down this serious issue just because you want to generate outrage at someone for having opinions about fictional characters that anger you.

anyway genocide is bad and people shouldn't try to justify it

#ask #anon #I'm not about to sit here and explain to you #why a person with authority saying that a race is ontologically oppressive and evil and deserve the genocide that happened to them #is not the same as someone calling a random Byleth x Student shipper a groomer or something similar in ridiculousness #because if you do not know the difference then you're too far gone and I am sorry for you

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fe-fictions · 10 months

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Could I please request a Seteth fic where he has to choose between saving Flayn or saving Byleth?

(This one was so much fun to re-write!! I miss the dragon family so much ;;; A ;;; I really need to write for them more often!)

In the heat of battle, it was imperative to make difficult decisions in a split second. There is little time for hesitation. So when you are in love with someone who must fight alongside you, the threat of having to choose between them is a threat that is real and always looming in every battle.

Seteth was faced with an equally impossible task; to make that decision should something happen to his lover, Byleth, or his daughter, Flayn.

He had prayed every night on that campaign that such a decision would never have to be made.

But eventually, unfortunately, it did. And it was as though he were watching a nightmare unfold in slow motion.

His wyvern jolted suddenly, trained to listen for the sound of Flayn’s voice. He scanned the field for her, spotting the swathe of green curls flung about wildly as she struggled to fight. A small battalion had snaked their way into the backline, and were going after the suppors.

He all but yanked the beast around, driving himself toward while shouting commands to others that the healers were under attack.

He was about halfway there, when his eyes caught something in the corner of his peripheral.

The glint of a blade he was far too familiar with, and found himself following the blurry action. Your sword had nearly been struck from your hand- you were fighting a losing battle against one of the generals present in the fight. Seteth’s body seized, eyes wide when he realized the dire situation you were in.

There was blood all over you- and he knew that it wasn’t all the enemy’s. He could see the exhaustion in your desperate movements, how you were running on pure adrenaline alone.

You all were; but this…this was getting exceedingly serious.

His wyvern keaned beneath him, reminding him that Flayn still needed help.

That he was still the closest to reach their little troupe of healers. But that you were also in front of his eyes, fighting for your life. Support for the Archbishop was not nearly as close as it should have been.

They were being pushed back by the general’s pawns.

His blood turned to ice in his veins. The world went silent around hi, only the thundering of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

His eyes flicked from his place between his lover and his daughter. The Archbishop, and his child.

“Seteth, we need to discuss this sooner or later.”

“I know you speak the truth, but surely we can table it for another day-”

“No. We have to make this decision clear, here and now. I love ou, and I love Flayn. But if a situation should arise between the two of you, I know what decision you would have me make.”

Seteth’s eyes narrowed, pulling his wyvern’s reins and driving the beast into down the frantic path to rescue.

“I would never ask you to choose between the two of us.” He could hear the words over and over in his mind. He could remember the vivid displeasure in your expression.

“But should such a situation arise, you would have me choose Flayn over you, wouldn’t you?”

His knuckles went white, roaring towards the enemy.

“And Seteth…should you ever find yourself in a similar situation…I want you to choose her first, too.”

His axe ripped through the armored plates of the invaders, forcing them out of the backline. He could see bright green eyes, wide with confusion and relief.

“Byleth, you cannot ask me to make such a choice- if you were to be harmed, or worse, because I wasn’t there to- I-I could not live with myself.”

“If I’m honest with myself, dear…I couldn’t, either. But I am not your wife. And I am not your family…Flayn is. You’ve sacrificed so much to protect her and support her.” I would never dare ask you to prioritize my life over hers.”

“Byleth-”

“There will always be another Archbishop, Seteth.”

He remembered the sad smile clearly, as he reached down, grabbing his daughter up from the ground and protecting her from another blade.

He couldn’t look back when he heard the shrieks of panic, the cries that the Archbishop had been struck down. You were hurt.

“But there will never be another Flayn. And I know that if you were in my place…you would gladly have e choose to save her over you in an instant.”

Seteth’s rigid frame kept Flayn in place as she struggled against him.

“No- no, Father, we can’t-!! Go back!! Byleth’s hurt!! We have to go back!!”

You were right. There would always be another Archbishop.

“Please, she needs us!! We have to help her!! Please, Father!!”

But there was only one Byleth.

And he had just condemned you to death.

-------------------------

When the battle finally ended, the campsite was grim. No one was feeling any sort of joy, despite the enemy having been routed.

Their fearless leader, the undefeated warrior, had been bested.

And the Archbishop was in critical condition. Seteth was inconsolable. No words of reassurance, no sympathies were to be spared for him. He turned them all away.

If they had time to worry about the Minister, then they had time to worry about the Archbishop, about the Church, about anything else more deserving of their time than he.

The man who let you all but fall to your death.

The only person who was welcomed into into his audience with a worthwhile conversation was Flayn.

The young woman who stormed into his office, furious with her father.

“How could you?”

He did not look up from his hands, folded tightly atop his desk.

“How could you let Byleth be hurt like that?? How could you prioritize me over the woman who is working to unite the entire continent?!”

Seteth’s grimace deepened. He could not provide her with a worthy answer.

“I…I saw where you were. I saw you freeze- I wanted you to come to me, I knew you were going to save me! But when I saw Byleth-- I realized why you’d hesitated at all. You were trying to help both of us, and then you chose me!!”

“Flayn-”

“But you chose me over Byleth!! A-and we both know that she’s not just the Archbishop to you. We both know very well that she’s you’re in love with her! And you still chose me over her?!”

“It is not so simple.” He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did not realize how much his fingers were trembling, before. “I had to make this decision, because it was mutually agreed upon by both of us.”

“What?” She stared at him in utter disbelief. He nodded, carding a hand through his hair.

“We decided, a long time ago, that if there should ever be a scenario in which your life hung in the balance or one of ours did…we would both prioritize your safety.”

Her mouth fell open, but no words could escape. She stared at him, speechless, struggling to understand what he just said.

“Why…no, no…why?”

“Because you are my daughter.” He looked at her, finally, and what little resolve he could manage to find had met her gaze with a mountain of grief behind it. “And I swore to protect you, above all others. Byleth would do the very same for you, because she knows that my priority has been, and always ill be, the safety of my child.”

“But- but I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult! I’m a fully capable being that doesn’t need you or Byleth to protect me!! Gods- gods, you had the Archbishop prioritize my life over hers?! I can’t believe that!”

“It’s true. And if I were the one in danger, Byleth would have made the same choice.”

“But- but that’s not- I know how much you care about her. I know that you love her, and that you want to be with her!! For once, can’t you prioritize your own feelings? Can’t you prioritize Byleth??”

“I…do Not know that I am worthy enough to make such a decision. But it matters not- I am a father, first and foremost. I will always put you first. I can only ask that you understand.”

Flayn exhaled sharply, her hands balled into fists. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s right!! You have to prioritize yourself sometime. You have to prioritize Byleth. Especially if you love her. And if she comes out of this alive…you’d better tell her that.”

The word “if” echoed in his ears, reminding him just how serious this situation was. The pale color of your skin, the shallow breaths….the glimpse of your broken form he had seen was not just a hypothetical.

Seteth could actually lose you. That was what terrified him. He did not regret his decision. He could never regret protecting his daughter. But at the cost of not protecting you….it tore his heart into pieces.

A full day would pass before any word of your condition arrived. You had made it through the night, mercifully, and you were no longer in danger of death . They had patched you up successfully, and wrapped the wounds in such a way that they would not be reopened provided you remained in bed long enough to let them heal properly.

It would be six hours after that relieving update was provided that he was informed that you were awake.

Not only that, but you were asking for him, specifically.

He had never moved so quickly in his life. His legs carried him faster than his thoughts could form, all but sprinting to reach your side and ensure that he was with you after far too long apart.

It would give him the opportunity to apologize. To beg your forgiveness, to hope that you understood why he made the decisions that he did.

Eventually, he hoped you would find it in your heart to forgive his transgression against you. But if you did not…he could not find it in his heart to disagree. It would make sense, after all.

The prime minister was at the doors in no time, knocking tentatively on the old wood and hoping the healers would let you in.

Mercedes was the one who opened it to him, her expression cool but her smile at least marginally positive.

“She asked for you as soon as she woke up, Prime Minister.” She said softly, “If you’re of a mind, she would like to see you for at least a little while.”

“O-of course. I would not dare keep her waiting another moment. May I…may I see her alone?”

Mercedes glanced back, considering the state of her patient. “Very well. I can give you a little while, but she’ll need close monitoring over the next few days.”

“I understand. Thank you.” He stepped into the medical bay, taking a deep, shaking breath. It did little to steady his nerves, nor to keep the guilt from bubbling over.

But when he saw you lying there, staring out the windows and bound heavily with bandages…he was not certain if there was anything he could say.

You turned your head when the door was closed, finding Mercedes was gone and the dragon man stood in her place.

He didn’t know what to expect; he deserved to be shouted at, to be reprimanded for abandoning you, to see angry tears fall and a declaration that he had broken your heart, that you never wanted to see him again.

Instead, you smiled.

“Set…Seteth.” You raised your hand, either to beckon for him or to ask him to hold it. Either way, he was striding to the bed and kneeling down at your side within a single breath.

“Byleth-” He could barely choke your name out before the sorrow threatened to spill over.

He took your hand in both of his, squeezing your fragile fingers tightly. He stared at you, the worry and guilt written all over his face. It was impossible to miss, especially as the woman he loved.

“I’ll be okay.” You whispered, your gaze far too warm and loving given the state you were in.

Seteth swallowed thickly, his eyes running over your frame again and again.

“Are you in pain? Are you uncomfortable in any way?” He asked worriedly, searching for something to fix.

You shook your head, wiggling your fingers that he grasped so tight. “No…I’m not in any pain. Mercy…treated the most pressing wounds very well. And…and she gave me some healing tonic that’s quite strong….I feel more numb than anything else.”

“I-is it supposed to be numbing??” He asked, the alarm breaking through the guilt, “I’ll go and fetch her right away, I’m sure sh’es just outside the-”

“It’s supposed to.” You assured him, “It’s that or…the pain and discomfort you asked about.”

“Oh…I see. Very well.” He cleared his throat, steeling himself with a deep breath. “Then…aside from your physical state…how are you feeling?”

“You mean, how mad am I at you?” You corrected him jovially, though he did not seem to appreciate your humor.

“You have every right to be furious at me, Byleth. I let you be harmed. I did not protect you.” He sighed, looking down. It was far too difficult to meet your eyes. “You should be shouting at me, and I imagine you would be if you weren’t in such a sorry state. A position that I condemned you to, that day…I…I know my words hold little meaning in this situation, but I must apologize to you, profusely. I am so, so sorry that you were hurt.”

“Ou shouldn’t be apologizing.” You shook your head, trying to free your hand from his. When he realized you were trying to slip away, he quickly removed his hands, clasping them tightly in his lap. Of course you wouldn’t want to touch him.

At least, that’s what he thought. But then warm fingers brushed his cheek, cupping his face with a tenderness he could never deserve.

“You did the right thing.”

“I-”

“You swore to protect your daughter. We both agreed…to put Flayn first. How could I ever be upset with you for protecting your family?”

“I-I do not regret my decision to protect Flayn. I could never regret that. But I cannot help but feel that I have betrayed the woman I love, as well. That I abandoned you in that moment.”

“You didn’t abandon me.” You shook your head again, smiling softly, “You were keeping your daughter safe. And I will never hold that against you. I know you would not if I did the same.”

“I wouldn’t, no. But I’m also not the Archbishop of Fodlan. Your position holds great influence, and to see you wounded when I could have prevented it…the blow that the whole army took when you fell was severe.”

“It wasn’t their decision to make. We made it. It was ours, and ours alone. It may be callous to say this as the Archbishop, but…frankly, I don’t care what they think when it comes to those I love.”

“I cannot believe you still have the strength to say such things,” He laughed, though it was clipped and bitter, “I am not deserving of your love. You should want nothing to do with me after I risked your life.” It would be safer for you to cast me out.”

“But I won’t, because I love you. I will always love you. You and Flayn are like family to me. I’d do anything for both either of you. Even if it means sacrificing my life to protect you.”

Seteth did not register the tears down his cheek until you wiped at them, still cradling his face with your frail little hand.

He bowed his head, covering your hand with his.

"I do not deserve you. Nothing I have done in my life could ever make me worthy of you.” His voice trembled, turning his face to kiss your palm. “You are not like family to us, Byleth- you are our family. You are our world…And it is desperately important to me that you know that.”

“I do.” You whispered, all but beaming even in spite of your exhaustion. “I know, and I feel the very same way. So don’t ask forgiveness, Seteth- there’s nothing to forgive.”

He did not wholly agree with you on that point, though. He was quite certain that you were more than deserving of affection and attention from your family, and he didn’t consider himself worthy enough to be that to you, yet.

So instead he decided to shift his plans up, from waiting until the war was over, waiting until the continent was secure and rebuilt, to make you a fully fledged member of his family.

Instead he took Flayn’s advice; as soon as you were healed and back on your feet, he whisked you up to the north tower, and proposed to you on the spot.

A proposal you readily accepted (and naturally earned the cheers of your soon-to-be stepdaughter, who had snuck after her father when she saw the ring in his hand earlier that evening).

While it was an absolutely joyous moment, you did have to agree to Flayn’s demand that from now on, you and your husband must put yourselves first; protect one another above anyone else.

Otherwise, how else would she get a little sibling?

#seteth #byleth #fe 16 #fe three houses #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #seteleth #seteth x byleth #hurt and comfort #critical injury #critical injury angst #we love a protective seteth #it would be such a hard choice to make #but hey at least you get a proposal out of it LMAO

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naz-artz · 10 months

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I have so many dimileth files just sitting in my folders, and I have such guilt over them, and I can't work on them this month because I want to clear out what I do have on my plate already(color wheel meme and...spicy posts). But that being said, having the immense pressure of an audience would help so

#dimileth #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth fire emblem #byleth eisner #dimileth poll #dimitri x byleth #either gender for ponyo #mbyleth #or fbyleth #specify if you wanna see something in particular tb #[stares at sevarix expectantly]#[stares at silver expectantly]#espresso...now is your chance

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rorah · 1 year

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I have only drawn 3 or 4 kisses... in my life as an artist lol. Time to add another two. Kisses are hard to draw but practice makes it easier (?). Just your typical delusional making your faves characters kiss, no context needed for the first part. The following part tho...

Is part of the brainworms A Closer Look by Ammeh had left on me. Check it out if you haven't >_>.

#fire emblem warriors 3 hopes #dimileth #dimitri x byleth #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth eisner #dimileth child oc?#by Ammeh #Valentines day?? you mean? Dimileth day?#Never have been one to celebrate things like this but if it works as a pretext to enjoy your current ship then #LET'S GO!! lot's of kisses and cheesy feels support 🙌#I rushed badly at the second one lol sorry

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stergeon · 2 months

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Rating: Mature (horny)

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Relationship(s): Edelgard von Hresvelg/Byleth Eisner

Words: 11.5k (2 chapters out of, theoretically, 3)

There's a new professor of the Black Eagles house, but it's not the one Edelgard and Hubert had planned to take on the role—and to make matters worse, Edelgard knows her. She could never forget her, or a single moment of that hot summer night when they met in Enbarr.

Worst of all, the professor doesn't seem to remember Edelgard.

AU in which Byleth and Edelgard meet by chance a few months before the start of White Clouds.

#fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #edelgard von hresvelg #edeleth #byleth eisner #byleth x edelgard #fire emblem fanfiction #fe3h fanfic #my loathe letter to the past perfect tense #hubert's here but only in chapter one and like for five seconds at the end of the story that is as of yet unwritten #this started out as an earnest attempt at writing smut but it ended up becoming almost 20k words before anyone even kissed sooooo #if we're being honest this is two character studies in a smut trenchcoat #with a dumbass framing device that just exists to twist a knife #fun fact: this actually was like the third fanfic i ever wrote. i started it not too long after wrapping up shared space #then it spiraled out of my control so i've been sitting on it #i dunno i think ~12k words of preamble to agreeing to have sex is fine. if that's not your scene that's on you #someday i might work up the courage to post the next part #but if you thought the purple prose and self-indulgent pseudointellectualism were bad in these two chapters i will warn you #i'm just getting started #i have not even scratched the surface of how unsexy i can make a purported sex scene

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linilou-von-hevring · 3 months

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Lakefront

Read it here on ao3!

“Whatcha doing there?”

It takes a moment for Byleth to look up from the lake. Ripples break her reflection as she pulls her soaked cloak onto her lap. Red stains the fabric, stains that bleed onto the girl’s hands and knees. And she almost seems frazzled as her eyes find Claude’s; or at least, she seems as frazzled as an emotionless Ashen Demon can be.

“I’m trying to get these stains out before it’s too late.”

“Why not just use another one instead? If you want, we can get you a new one as soon as we’re back in the capital.”

Claude must have been blessed by the goddess, or perhaps it’s just a stroke of luck. Regardless, it’s nice not being chased away as he takes a seat next to Byleth on the grass. The summer air is almost choking, dry heat pounding down onto the heads that have the misfortune of being exposed, but by the water, it’s a little more bearable. It’s a little fresher, the cool breeze brushing Claude’s cheeks. Or maybe it’s the sparkle in those green eyes that makes it worth being outside under the blazing sun.

“Jeralt said the same thing.”

He waits for more to come, but the wait is in vain. Byleth simply goes back to scrubbing her cloak, her green eyes glistening like the still lake under the sun. She seems determined to get her cloak back into its original state, but the blood is stubborn, clinging to the fabric. It clings like the memories of the last battle, one that had been far more brutal than the rest. It clings like the pit that forms at the bottom of Claude’s stomach; he couldn’t ignore the casualties that had come with his lack of preparation. He can’t ignore the wave of nausea that hits him, the smell of bloodshed leaving him sick all over again.

“You were good in the last battle.” Claude’s eyes leave the bloody garment only to fall back onto Byleth. She doesn’t look away from her work, but he knows she’s addressing him. He knows the words are for him, an attempt at comfort; he knows she had seen him detach himself from his celebrating troops to be sick on his own. “You did what you had to do to win, even if it wasn’t the victory you had wanted.” Green eyes find each other; they’re dusted with sunlight, a flicker of warmth he’s never seen in Byleth. “You’re a good leader. You’re a smart one.”

The blush that heats his face catches him by surprise. Claude’s heard it a million times before, heard the whispers and the praises for how smart he is, how cunning he is, how he plans for everything, but none of those compliments had left him swelling with pride. Every pat on the back he had gotten had felt like a stepping stone leading him to his next scheme, approval for him to keep going, but coming from Byleth, it feels different. From Byleth, he believes it; Claude doesn’t feel the need to be humble or deny his intelligence. With Byleth, he doesn’t need to put up this perfect political leader persona he has perfected for everyone else; Claude can just be himself, this kid that’s just trying his best to survive a worthless war.

“You’re pretty smart yourself, you know. And you’re crazy strong, taking those guys out like it was nothing to you.” Maybe the wink and bumping of shoulders was unnecessary, but Byleth doesn’t seem to mind. She doesn’t back away or leave; she simply shakes her head as she continues scrubbing her cloak. “I mean it, though. You’re an incredible mercenary. And I kinda wish we had met sooner, been on the same team from the start. Kinda wish I had gotten to know you sooner.”

Byleth hums, a sound Claude has grown accustomed to hearing. He still hasn’t figured out the meaning of the sound, but he knows it’s better than silence. He knows that if she’s humming, it means she’s not chasing him away. If she’s humming, it means he gets to stay by her side, even if just for a moment longer.

It’s peaceful by the lake. Everything is still besides the weak ripples of water Byleth produces from plunging her cloak into the water. Everything is calm; birds chirp from the treetops and Claude even spots a pair of ducks diving for fish. Everything is so serene; if it weren’t for the camps set up a little further away, if it weren’t for the bloodshed that stains the soles of their shoes, if it weren’t for the dark circles that stain Claude’s face, it would have been impossible to know they were plunged in the midst of a war. If it weren’t for the weight on his heart, everything would have almost felt normal.

“Here.” Byleth furrows her brows as Claude pulls her cloak out of her hands. “Let help.”

“I’ve never seen a king be so adamant about doing laundry before.”

Laughter bubbles out of Claude as he plunges the fabric into the water. He’s never had to wash anything on his own before, he’s always had someone do it for him, but it’s never too late to learn. And maybe he’s not as methodical as Byleth had been, maybe his fingers are not yet familiar with the weight of wet cottons or the proper way of scrubbing stains out, but it’s not so terrible. It’s almost pleasant, the little mundane tasks Claude never got to do, having been raised in silks and perfumes. He almost feels normal, just a little more like everyone else. Maybe once this wretched war settles down, he’ll take up doing more chores instead of delegating them. Or maybe he’ll content himself with this one time, enjoying the freshness of the water against his skin.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” He doesn’t wait for an answer; Claude knows waiting is useless. “Friends help each other out.”

It’s so easy to smile around Byleth. Around Byleth, there’s an ease to every one of Claude’s grins, an ease he hadn’t known possible for him. Every smile he’s sported before, be it for his friends or for his troops, they’ve always weighed him down. They’ve always been an obligation to Claude, a duty he owes his people, especially during wartimes. Smiling has always been a tool for Claude, a way to instill confidence in the people he faces, but here, with Byleth, it almost feels like none of that matters. He doesn’t need to convince her of his abilities as a leader. He doesn’t need to convince her of anything, really. With Byleth, it almost feels like everything will simply be alright.

“You’re kind.” Byleth purses her lips as she tilts her head at Claude, her eyes running over his body before settling on his face. “You’re a lot kinder than most nobles I’ve come across.”

The statement begs for questions. It’s right there, an invitation for Claude to pry, but he doesn’t dare. Every question that forms at the tip of his tongue is swallowed back; he knows better than to try to break Byleth open. If she wants to tell him about her days before being hired by Leicester, if she wants to tell him about all her wandering, all the people she has met before him, then she will. She will tell him on her own terms. She’ll open up, little by little, whenever she feels like it. And as much as Claude hates waiting, his impatience and curiosity getting the better of him most of the time, he knows when to back down. He knows he has to content himself with the bits of information that are slowly handed to him.

A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he pushes himself up from the grass. Byleth’s eyes flicker between the boy standing before her and the cloak he’s left laying at his feet, left to soak in more stains than what Claude had gotten out. Her eyes flicker, but she doesn’t move. She makes no move to take back what is rightfully hers, nor does she follow Claude’s lead. She simply sits there, her expression unreadable as always.

Maybe Claude should have let her be. Maybe he should have sat back down and gone back to the little task he had imposed upon himself. Maybe he should have been thinking more rationally, but whatever brains he’s known for has since been left at the conference table. Here, under the blazing sun, under that green gaze, he’s letting his heart lead. Here, now, he’s following where fate leads him.

“I don’t know if kind is the best way to describe me, but,” he holds his hand out to Byleth, a hand she contemplates for a moment, “I promise you I’ll never be like any of the nobles of this place. Not Lorenz, not Hilda, not any of them. I’m just not one of them, no matter how hard I try. So please,” finally, fingers curl around the hand that touches his, “think of me as your friend instead of your leader, your king. Please?”

Pretty eyes roll back as Claude pulls Byleth to her feet. It’s the first time he’s ever seen her this relaxed; it’s the first time he doesn’t panic at their proximity, afraid she might take his life. It’s the first time he feels they’re equals; it’s the first time they feel like just people rather than soldiers striving to survive a war.

Byleth’s hand quickly falls away from Claude’s, but not as quickly as her eyes. They fall onto the horizon, onto the sun that’s still high, still plummeting down onto their heads. They shimmer like the lake reflecting the leaves in the trees, they’re captivating as always, always filled with a mystery that draws Claude in, but they’re not alone in holding his gaze. He can’t help but trace the lines of reddening skin, skin he knows is normally so pale. He can’t help but want to touch the splotches of burns that have started to sprinkle Byleth’s skin. And maybe that’s why she always has something to cover herself; maybe she, unlike Claude, burns under the scorching summer sun. Maybe Byleth, unlike Claude, didn’t spend her entire childhood playing under blazing rays.

“Not to pry or anything, but,” green finds green once more, “when’s the last time you just had fun?”

“Fun?”

Claude almost laughs at the way Byleth tilts her head, her eyebrows furrowed. It’s almost as if she’d never heard the word; it’s almost as if it had no meaning to her.

“Let loose, had fun. Didn’t think about the shitty state of the world. Just thought of yourself for a moment, been a little impulsive maybe. Not been all serious all the time.” Claude shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Y’know, just had fun.”

Byleth furrows her brows once more, concentration staining her delicate features. She’s searching for a time she had done something other than work; by the looks of it, maybe the answer to Claude’s question is “never.” Had the Ashen Demon ever had a moment where she just got to have fun? Or had she been born a fighter, born with a sword weighing down her little hands? Did a mercenary, no matter how young, ever have the opportunity to just kick back and have fun in their life?

Claude doesn’t wait for an answer. If Byleth has never had the chance to let loose before, then it’s become Claude’s personal mission to change that here and now. Now matter how dire their circumstances, they’re allowed a moment of indulgence. No matter how deadly the outside world is, they’re entitled to a moment of peace, a moment of their own. No matter what, they’re allowed to take back a moment of their idle childhood and make the world their own. They’re allowed to reclaim the childhood they lost to war.

Green eyes fall back onto Claude, eyes that follow the lines of his body as he spins on his heel, his arms thrown back behind his head. He knows Byleth can’t look away; ever since she’s been hired to be a part of the Leicester army, her eyes have rarely left him. She’s followed his every movement as if it had become her personal mission to ensure his safety. She’s never been far; she’s always known his exact whereabouts. And it makes sense: the death of her employer would mean the end of her income. It makes sense that she has to ensure her own survival; money is just as vital to life as not being cut down by a sword, not that Byleth would ever be careless enough to be ambushed. It makes sense that her eyes are drawn towards Claude, but this time, she’s not looking at him as if he were this fragile little thing that needed protecting. This time, she’s looking at him, all of him, all of Claude. This time, she doesn’t seem as guarded as she watches him. Perfect.

The sound that breaks from Claude’s lips is far pitchier than he had expected from himself. It’s far from that deep battle cry, that powerful voice he uses as he sends his troops forwards. This scream is one far more natural, a yelp one would expect from a child rather than from a man leading an army. This shriek as he trips back towards the water is one that pulls Byleth’s complete attention to him, her eyes suddenly huge as she reaches out to grab him. And she’s right where Claude wants her; his fingers curl around the hand extended towards him and yank the girl forward, both bodies plunging into the lake.

Cool water surrounds them as Claude pulls Byleth into his chest. It’s almost as if time slows as they sink into the lake, glistening freshness enveloping them like a blanket. Down here, the blazing hot sun can’t reach them. Down here, the world seems to disappear. At least, until Byleth is pushing Claude away and rising to the surface. Or maybe the world vanishes even more as he watches her glide against the water. Everything goes away, everything but Byleth’s elegance as she pierces through the surface, her fanned out hair now clinging to her cheeks. Nothing matters when Byleth’s looking that pretty as she catches her breath, coughing out the water she’s accidentally swallowed. Everything is Byleth, Byleth who has never seemed more human than in this moment.

Laughter bubbles out of Claude as he joins her at the surface. It’s uncontrolled, rolling out in snorts and choked breaths, but it’s by far the most genuine laugh he’s let out in a long time. It’s a laugh he’s forgotten himself capable of, but as Byleth glares at him, her soaked hair a mess, how is he supposed to not laugh? How can he help the fits of laughter as he sees her face twist upon realizing she fell for another of his dirty little tricks? How can he not laugh or sport a grin so wide it hurts his cheeks? It’s not every day he gets to trick the Ashen Demon, the girl who’s always so on guard, so ready to read through every one of his schemes. Claude’s not as predictable as she had made it seem; Byleth hadn’t planned for this outcome.

More laughter spills as a wave slaps Claude across the face. He can’t see the face Byleth is pulling, too busy rubbing the water out of his eyes, but he can imagine it. He can perfectly picture her half-hearted frown, that near pout that perfectly encapsulates her disappointment in herself for falling for something so obvious. She should have known better than to be fooled by Claude’s scream. She should have known that he isn’t one to trip over his own two feet. She should have known that he was as steady as any archer needs to be in order to survive. She should have known so much, expected so much, and yet she had been fooled by his cunning. She had expected the best of him, which had been her biggest mistake.

“You tricked me.”

“Told you I wasn’t kind.”

Another grin breaks across Claude’s face as water washes over him, a wave he gladly returns. He won’t be the only one engulfed by the cool water sent his way; Byleth disappears into the lake, though only for a split second. It’s only a second before she’s bobbing back up, having pushed herself back to the surface. It’s only a second before she’s back on the offensive, blinding Claude through the means of splashes and sunlight.

He shouldn’t have expected any less from the Ashen Demon. Why wouldn’t she be just as competitive as she is fearless? It’s anything but a surprise that she wants nothing more than to win the battles she’s engaged in, even if those battles are silly little games played out in the middle of a lake. She’ll force Claude to surrender if she must, just as she had once tried on the battlefield. She’ll do anything to hear his gasping breaths declaring her the victor. She’ll force him into a corner, trap him just as he had once trapped her, but such a feat doesn’t come as easily as she might have hoped. If she’s stubborn enough to fight until the very end, then Claude is three times stubborner than her. He has to lead her to her demise. He has to lead her to surrender rather than to victory.

“Is that really the best you can do?” War-hardened eyes narrow onto him as he grins, trying his best to not sound winded despite the exhaustion starting to weigh him down. “Guess the rumors about how strong the unbeatable, the unshakable Ashen Demon is are all wrong. Because I swear I’ve fought stronger practice dummies.” Claude shakes his head as he let out another laugh. “And here I was expecting a bit of a challenge. Guess you’re just too predictable.”

Something flashes in Byleth’s eyes. It’s a glint Claude’s only seen a handful of times, a twinkle he had once feared when he opposed the Ashen Demon on the battlefield. It’s a shine that had once shaken him to his core, leaving him sleepless from the paralyzing fear of her power. But here, under the blazing summer sun, fear is left to the shadows; now, as heat flushes Byleth’s cheeks, he knows the shimmer can only mean he’s in for a good time. Who would have guessed that all it took was a little taunt for Byleth to take the bait? Who would have thought that a little taunt would be enough for her to rise to the challenge, ready to display her true strength to Claude, though this time without the worry of his life being taken? He’d finally get an up-close glimpse of the tactics of the fabled Ashen Demon but without the anxiety that had accompanied him the last time he had challenged her on a battlefield.

Byleth’s a lot faster now, disappearing underwater before reappearing behind him. She’s a lot more silent, a lot more unpredictable. The splashes she had once directed at Claude, the waves that had washed over him, they’ve become more precise, as if magic is controlling the bursts that catch him off guard. And every ambush has Claude’s mind racing, trying desperately to predict and counter Byleth’s next move. Every attack pushes him further from his goal; maybe this is the time he finally loses to her.

Another yelp breaks from his lips as he’s dragged down into the lake. Arms wrap around his neck as water engulfs him. The sun seems to be growing farther away as Claude reaches out to the surface. The light seems to disappear as he tries his best to wiggle out of his opponent’s iron grip. Everything seems to fade away when he finally breaks free, finally able to push himself to the surface, which seems so far away.

Everything seems to vanish. Maybe the water had gotten to his head, hazing his mind. Maybe he had sunk too deep. Maybe he had been deprived of oxygen for too long, even if he knows he’s stayed underwater far longer in the past. But what other explanation can there be for his gasps as he reaches the surface, gasps that sound like he hasn’t had a chance to breathe for hours? Why else would his eyes feel so wide, the sunlight blinding him completely? Why else would he think he met his siren at the bottom of the lake?

Everything had happened so fast, from the plunge to the resurfacing. Everything had happened in the blink of an eye, fragments Claude is only now starting to put together as he catches his breath. Everything had felt unreal; maybe none of it happened, or maybe everything really did happen.

Byleth’s arms had been iron-tight around Claude’s neck as she pulled him down into the water with her. She had been a lot stronger than he had anticipated, immobilizing him in a way he hadn’t known possible. She had been a lot swifter as well, her arms falling away from him before she circled him. And she had been stunning in that moment, despite the blur of water. Byleth had appeared before him like one of the paintings that had adorned the walls of the Riegan estate, those paintings of worship he had once spent hours observing, those gorgeous painting which depicted beauty incarnate. Right there, she had seemed almost divine under the filtered sunlight.

Byleth had been the only thing Claude could see despite his burning and blurring eyesight. Byleth, she had been so breathtaking with her hair suspended around her as if forming a halo around her face. Byleth, how could something so deadly be so pretty?

Maybe it’s the loss of oxygen playing tricks on Claude’s hazy mind. Maybe the burning lake water had been the reason he had squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe everything that supposedly happened is nothing more than the replay of a fantasy Claude has dreamt up. Maybe he’s making everything up, convincing himself that his desires are reciprocated. Maybe he’s nothing more than a dreamer; but then again, everything had felt too real to be a figment of his imagination.

He couldn’t have conjured up the feeling of hands on his cheeks. He couldn’t have made up the way he had been pulled closer. He couldn’t have imagined the light touch of lips to his. It couldn’t be a fantasy playing over in his mind; he knows the feeling of Byleth haunting his dreams, always three steps too far for him to catch her. Claude knows the difference between dreams and reality; he knows he didn’t imagine grabbing Byleth’s arm as he tried his best to press a kiss back to her lips. He knows he’s not that delusional; he can’t be that delusional. If this had all been delusion, why had Byleth broken away from him, leaving him with nothing but his gasps, air bubbles rushing from his mouth to the surface?

Everything had happened so fast; everything had felt so real, yet so uncertain as Claude raises a finger to his lips. Who would believe him if he told them the story of what had just happened? No one would; no one had witnessed the scene, not even the sun. And as Claude remains alone at the center of the lake, drenched and heaving, he knows he’d have been called a liar. Byleth is nowhere near him; she didn’t resurface alongside him, coughing out water as she had earlier. No, she’s far from him, already sitting on the shore and ringing out water from her hair. If it weren’t for the fact that she, too, was soaked down to her core, Claude might have even believed he had made up the plunge they had taken together.

But he didn’t make anything up. His sleepless nights had not caught up to him, leaving him with fabricated memories. The sun had not been too much for him. He’s not going crazy from some cold that washed over him from the bit of time he spent in the lake. It’s impossible, even if he knows nature is more unpredictable than he’ll ever be. It’s impossible for the sun to have pounded such delusions into his head, even if he’s been warned that it has the power to daze and confuse those who stayed under it for too long. Claude knows he hasn’t gone crazy. Not yet, at least. He hasn’t yet lost all his senses to the one sitting there, all pretty under the harsh sunlight.

Byleth’s eyes rise towards Claude, but they quickly dart away as she kicks the water her feet are soaking in. And something pulls on Claude’s heartstrings as he watches her fidget with her hair. He’s never seen her like this; he’s only known her to be the fearless Ashen Demon, the girl who had glared daggers at him, the girl who had narrowed her twinkling eyes onto him. He’s never seen Byleth look shy, glancing away as he draws closers to her. He’s never seen a blush stain her cheeks. And she looks so beautiful like that, the color creeping into her face, leaving her looking bashful. She looks beautiful and human; maybe she’s not as untouchable and mysterious as Claude had thought.

“I shouldn’t have…”

Byleth purses her lips. Her eyes flicker all around before falling back to her hands now resting against her lap. The thoughts are racing through her mind; Claude can see them bounce all around. He can easily imagine her trying to grab onto a few of them, trying her best to find the right words, but nothing comes of it. She remains silent, biting the insides of her cheeks.

Claude can’t fault her for her silence. He knows what it’s like trying to explain a decision that has no explanation. He knows what it’s like to act impulsively, act rashly. He knows what it’s like to do something only to realize too later there were other ways. He knows the feeling all too well.

“But you did.”

Green eyes flicker towards Claude as he pushes himself out of the water. He’s heavy from the lake-soaked cottons clinging to his skin, and he feels gross, sinking into the now flooded muddy grass, but neither say anything about it. Neither seem ready to acknowledge what has happened. They don’t mention the plunge they took, nor do they mention the moment they shared. At least, they don’t mention it outright; putting it into words, addressing it, that would make it too real. They know it happened, but talking about it, it’s scarier than the battles they lead. The only thing more terrifying that talking is the prospect of losing the moment to foggy memories.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” A pause. The longest pause Claude has ever had to endure. “I wasn’t thinking. It was impulsive.”

“Do you often go around disarming your opponents with kisses?”

Something swells inside of Claude as Byleth shakes her head. The smallest sliver of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she lets her head hang forward. The tiniest hint of a laugh drips from her lips as she straightens out, leaving Claude to fall for her smile. It’s the first time he’s ever seen one on her, and it lights up her face. It leaves her glowing, leaves her with a radiance he has never witnessed before.

“No. Only you.”

Claude’s heart flips as slender fingers find his against the grass. They curl over each other, locking together as a perfect fit. It’s almost as if they had been fated for this moment, this exchange of shy smiles and glances. It’s as if Claude had been destined to fall for that smile, that smile that is all for him, caused by him. That smile he had only dreamt of witnessing, what ever had he done to be deserving of such beauty?

“I think—” Byleth purses her lips once more before shaking her head and turning to Claude. She sucks in a breath, her exhale a little shakier than usual. “I’d like to do it again. Without catching you off guard. Not impulsively, but on purpose this time.”

It’s so easy to smile around Byleth. Nothing’s ever been easier than the grin that tugs at the corners of Claude’s mouth. Nothing’s ever felt better than the butterflies that erupt in his stomach as he brushes a strand of hair out of Byleth’s eyes before closing the distance between them. Nothing has ever felt as good as the smile pressed to his, a smile he never even dared dream of tasting. Nothing can compare to this. Absolutely nothing.

Claude knows no one will believe him if he spills the secret behind his pounding heart. He knows no one would believe that the Ashen Demon had smiled at him or that Byleth had let him thread his fingers through her damp hair. He knows he’d be called a liar or a dreamer if he dared insinuate that he has gotten a taste of those soft lips. He knows it all sounds too good to be true, but even so, he knows he didn’t make it up.

No one will believe Claude’s tales, no one but the sun that has borne witness to the tender hearts learning to beat for one another. No one would know if this moment, no one but the ducks that cheer as laughter fills the little space separating the two. No one has witnessed Claude’s compliance as he’s pulled closer once more, no one but the birds that sing of love. No one could imagine the beauty that has bloom under the summer sun, no one but the trees that had swayed as another kiss seals the promise of care and devotion.

#hello 2024 I wrote some more Claudeleth #It's fluffy this time #Don't you love it when they just get to be kids for a moment and have fun? because I do #alright tags time #claudeleth #claude x byleth #claude von riegan #byleth eisner #fe3h claude #fe3h byleth #f!byleth #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe16 #fire emblem #lils writes

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