#Seteth BB Week 2020

[argent-vulpine]

Where are we Going?

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: M

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[drbtinglecannon]

Tagged by the lovely @pidgeonpostal

Rules: Post the file names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous the name.

Send me an ask with the title that intrigues you the most and I'll tell you something about it!

Tag as many people as you have wips. Lol no that's cruel

So the way I catalogue my fics is in gigantic groups, like "*insert ship name here* week 2021" is for all those fics, or even "*insert fandom here* 2020" for all fics I wrote for that fandom that year. It's...kind of a mess haha! That said, any fic ideas I do have names for I'll put, otherwise I'll just put descriptions.

A series of bad pick-up lines, ch13 (fg)

Learning to bird call, ch2&3 (fg)

Maybe you'll wake up in a world of charm, ch2&3 (fg)

One bed cuddle fic, (fg)

My favorite color is You, (fgw2020)

Fg kiss prompt (that was requested like a year I'm so sorry, kneecaps)

Fgw2020 hanahaki AU

Neither of you are subtle, now pass the popcorn (Fg, bb)

Fg smut #1

Fg smut #2

Seteth x Manuela smut (FE3h) (I promise I rarely write nsfw)

Thank you for saving my dau--sister, my sister. (FE3h)

A quiet dance in the corner (FE3h)

Oh, the woes of being a Tall, Handsome Redhead (FE3h) (I might make draw comics for this one instead. Maybe)

Pethea domestic fluff (FE3h)

Hospital visits are the worst kind (erasermic) (I really don't care for bnha anymore but I'll always love erasermic so)

There's even more that I wrote ideas/snippets/almost entire fics for that I never plan to finish, either I don't care for the material anymore or the idea would be better as a comic (but I hardly draw anymore haaa). I'm trying to write more so I'm gonna do my best to finish at least some of these ideas haha!

No obligation to post a list yourself, and apologies if being tagged is annoying, but @theonceoverthinker, @pretentiouskneecaps, @everfaye, @lazylyz, @exhausted-anders, @delta-altair, @afoolforatook I'd love to hear wips y'all got if any!!

[argent-vulpine]

Gone Fishing

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[argent-vulpine]

Growing Closer

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: g

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She lifted an eyebrow, curious and waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[argent-vulpine]

Down We Go

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Seteth/Byleth

Read it on AO3!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

B. E.

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