( Coming up with a plan to seduce Seteth out of his self-imposed chastity is strikingly similar to preparing for combat -- mentally cataloguing moves and counterattacks. For a moment she feels as if she's simply the Ashen Demon once more; faced with an opponent who's predictability would be his downfall if not for his unflinching strength of will and determination. He'd sworn himself to her, her cause and her army, but his duty keeps him from dwelling upon anything else until the war is done.
And Byleth simply won't have it. Seteth is so tightly wound, keeping the Church together in Rhea's absence and fighting alongside her on the field that he needs to release the tension somehow. Stressed soldiers are liable to err, after all, and they do not need one of their best distracted. Claude would agree, if she had let him know -- but even Byleth knows better than to bring him into this particular scheme. For now. She's counting nothing out if this fails.
Dressed down, armor left in her own chambers, Byleth only gives Seteth a warning knock at his office door before she lets herself in. He is, as predicted, working. She suspects many things of Seteth -- none that she wishes to confront him with at this point, as they are inconsequential for the moment -- but never of being anything less than absolutely dedicated to the task at hand.
She simply wants the task at hand to involve her, and sex. )
Seteth? Sorry to disturb you-- ( Byleth is not, and he likely knows that. ) But could I have a moment of your time?
[ Seteth is, if nothing else, a man determined to maintain the image he has cultivated over the years. With how cautious he has to be with almost everything around him - his crest, his relationship with Rhea, his attachment to his daughter disguised as a sister, now standing in the wake of the world falling apart and hoping they might stitch it together again - it is no wonder that he has difficulty letting go.
Could anyone be surprised that he wishes to cling to what he has when losing it feels like such a danger?
There has been a clear challenge to that self-control, and that is undeniably Byleth. Having her returned to them is a blessing he had not thought to imagine, and the relief he had felt when she'd been returned to them all was something he kept tucked close to his chest. Admitting to her that he would be at her side for as long as she would have him, swearing his life to hers...
Perhaps she might have some inkling.
Lifting his head at the knock to his door, he frowns, ready to scold before he realises who it is. Shifting, he puts his ink pen down, leaning back in his too-large chair as he watches her. She is beautiful, he thinks, but there must be some purpose for her visit, so he locks that thought away amongst all the others that he denies himself.
Shaking his head, he motions to a chair in front of him. ]
( She has some, though the limited idea of the scope of his feelings is not entirely his doing. There are things Byleth easily understands: combat, the need for sustenance, even lust, to name a few. Some, like loyalty and comradery, Byleth had witnessed but never felt until her arrival at the monastery. Jeralt and the rest of his mercenaries had never let her distant personality bother them, but even before his death she'd been coming to realize that that she felt.
Grief for those she'd lost. Affection for her students and Flayn, that precious comradery with her fellow teachers, joy at seeing them once again. Her heart might still not beat in her breast, but she understands it now. Which leads her back to Seteth and her plan to finally get him to break, just a little.
It's all well and good to know that the object of her affection and lust feels similarly, but beyond his grand statements of loyalty and devotion, he's so tightly locked down that Byleth would swear he did not mean any of it if she didn't know that he would never lie to her.
And he needs the release as much as she.
The stained glass behind him throws his figure into sharp relief, the curve of his jaw and his nose putting her in mind of the saints themselves. Something else she means to ask him about, when the time is better.
Byleth smiles as she settles into the seat, as if this is simply a meeting like any other. Lure him into a sense of security before pressing the attack and he'll be less likely to successfully escape once she's sprung the trap. )
I was hoping for your help regarding a matter that's been troubling me. ( True. ) You see, I take the health and wellbeing of all our soldiers seriously, but there is one who has been-- difficult, you could say.
[ It's rare that Byleth might come to him for any sort of advice or guidance - it simply is not her nature. She has the confidence and the prowess of a marvellous warrior, there is no denying that, and while he might have some measure of mastery of tactics and warfare... This feels as though it was a more personal matter. It makes him a little more curious than he ought to be, and he pushes his papers aside gently.
It is not as though he dislikes the idea of avoiding his work - it would be a relief to escape it for at least a few hours - but he feels the pull of dedication nudging at him. He feels as though he ought to be focussing on what he is capable of doing, especially with how distressing the last few months have been. It has been difficult, not just for him, but also for the Church as a whole.
Seteth is tired, but he does all that he can to hide it. It would not do to put more pressure on Flayn, on the people they still have... On her dear Professor.
Still, he draws his attention back to her, focusses on her, letting his gaze settle on her face. It might be that some still claim that she is bereft of emotion, that she is cold, or distant, but he knows otherwise. He saw her grief at the loss of her father, of the change in her students, of the pain that was reflected in her when she returned to the Church. It makes him ache a little inside.
Her smile captivates him, and he feels his own lips twitch, just a little, before his attention rests properly on her. ]
If there is someone that requires our help then we should do all that we can to give it.
( It took time for her to realize that Seteth's sternness, his unflinching dedication to what he believes is right, comes from a place of deep affection for anyone and everyone that falls under his purview. But once she'd realized that it was easy to see how deeply he cared, the lengths he would go to protect his family and the students, now soldiers.
It is that deep wellspring of love and devotion that drew her to him, and kept her interest even after five years. That he felt towards her, the way he swore himself to her. She has no experience with romantic love, but Byleth is certain that this must be some part of it. Which brings her back to the point at hand. )
No, they are a true solider to the letter, and a dear friend besides. But they cause those that care about them to worry. Some fear that they are stretching themselves too thin, or that their dedication to their duty might cause them to neglect their own needs and desires. ( She is concerned for his wellbeing, beyond her desire to have sex with him. Seteth is extremely dear to her in a way that feels new and novel and also simply right. If she can provide some means of easing his burdens then she will do so, in whatever form that might take. ) I worry for him.
( She stands then, coming to the side of the desk to rest her hip against it. Perhaps he might not realize yet who it is that concerns her. Perhaps he has, but that will not change her goal. )
[ This is not something that he could claim proficiency in - he is not the kind that would be at all good at raising morale, given how stern and set he can be in his ways. Shifting his body, he leans forward on his desk, linking his fingers together as he pauses to consider what to do with this particular situation.
It does not dawn on that she might well be speaking of him; that is something so far from his mind that it doesn't even begin to register. Instead, his focus is entirely upon her and nothing else.
His heart feels a little warm as he looks at her, but he ignores that swell. ]
I suppose they are the type that would eschew any suggestion that they take pause, or have some time for themselves? That is commendable, to say the least.
[ Glancing up, he watches her fondly for a moment, ignoring the gentle push of jealousy. Byleth cares for all her students - he cannot allow himself to envy her concern. ]
Have you tried to discuss with them the merits of a rested body and mind?
( Byleth is no great seducer, but she knows that voicing her admiration for Seteth's work ethic is perhaps the easiest way to his heart and his pants. That he finds who she's describing admirable is, of course, amusing, but she can't let him know that. Not yet at least.
Humming, Byleth considers his words, as if she's thinking of someone else other than the man sitting in front of her. It's difficult considering how he holds her in his gaze, as if she is the only thing that matters in all of this. It's intoxicating, it makes her want to throw out her plans entirely and drag him down onto the desk with her. )
I have. But he is dedicated to his job and his duty -- normally I would find it admirable. I do. Do find it admirable. But I worry for him, what he might be setting aside in his personal life.
( She slides closer to him, a hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from his forehead. )
How am I to show him the value of letting himself go when he refuses to do so in the first place?
[ That does niggle at him a little, his eyes narrowing as he looks at her. There are a number of their students who might be best described as being too attached to their duty, but he is beginning to become a little suspicious, and that does not bode well for what her intentions may thus be.
If he is putting the pieces together correctly... He will simply have to ask her to leave him to his work. A simple, easy solution to the matter. ]
Are you perhaps overestimating what you know - or do not know - of his personal life? It may well be that he is quite content in the balance, and if it is not impacting his work outside what is required of him.
[ Yes, he thinks he has put the pieces together now, but he does not tear himself from her touch. No, he watches her instead, his expression tightening just a little.
( One can only go on fooling Seteth long enough, and Byleth wouldn’t be so fond of him if he were as gullible as he seems to think most everyone is. “Look so young” indeed. She has her own suspicions about what she does not know about him and her personal life, but does not wish to bring it up when she does not know if he will be honest with her. She hopes that he will in time, and in that regards she is content to wait.
Not for everything though, and before Seteth can think to stop her, she throws a leg over his so that she can sit on the desk, on his work, legs straddling him. Pinning him in might be a dirty trick but Byleth is not one to give an inch when she can taste victory. )
A relationship is not determined by the desires of one person, Seteth. Perhaps I wish to take care of you, if you will let me.
[ His first instinct is, of course, to reach for his work and try and salvage it - but it isn't going anywhere and doesn't seem to be in disarray, so he can manage that for now. Instead, his eyes are dragged up to her, and he has to pretend as though he isn't at least a little touch by her dedication to his cause.
As unnecessary as it is, of course. It's not needed, and he shows her as much with the expression on his face. ]
I am not a child that requires a scheduled break. I do know when to stop and retire for an evening.
[ Or how to slip away in the early hours of the morning to catch a few hours of rest. His hands drop to the armrests at his side. ]
What would you prefer I do? Simply abandon my work?
( He shouldn't worry, she won't let it get ruined should this progress further like she hopes it will. And not only because he would dedicate himself to redoing it, ruining her plan to draw him away from his work more often. He might be trying to dissuade her by expressing his displeasure, but Byleth will not let him have his way. Not this time.
Which is why her hands come up to play with the buttons over his chest, fingertips pressing into the cloth to feel the surprising amount of muscle underneath. )
No, no. ( A shake of her head. ) Your work is important for all that I might argue you spend too much time on it. And I would not be the only one who would do so.
[ The frown is still settled on his face, irritated and frustrated, but he does his best to relax a little. Byleth is, after all, only trying to take care of him in the same vein she does her students, so he cannot be too angry with her. He understands the depth of her empathy, even if he cannot emulate it entirely.
Still, he does have work to do and it is difficult to ignore that even if he wants to spend his time with her. It is a balance he has not had to concern himself with for many years, and he feels foolish for thinking of it now, letting his heart wrest control from his head. ]
I spend as much time is necessary on it, you and I both know that. You spend as many hours with your students, I might remind you.
[ Sighing, he leans back a little, glancing up at her sourly. ]
This is not a battle you will allow me to win, is it?
No, and it is good that you recognize that now, at least.
( He might be sour -- though she cannot blame him for it this once -- but Byleth will attempt to make it worth his while. Though it is just as much for her as it is for him; she aches for his touch the longer she finds herself without it. His uncompromising nature is attractive to be sure, but frustrating by half when all she wants is his touch, his affection, the devotion she knows he feels towards her.
Byleth laces her fingers behind his neck, giving him what she hopes is a reassuring, comforting smile. )
Just once, Seteth. And then I will let the matter go until you decide otherwise.
( Until after the war. Until after what comes after that. Byleth thinks they have time available to them. )
[ Seteth sighs a little, trying to manage his expectations - of himself and her, of trying to tuck his discomfort at being drawn from his work away and focus instead on what it might mean to spend his time with her instead. There's a warmth to it, the knowledge that someone wants him, that he is cherished, but he still glances at his paperwork with an unceasing sense of urgency.
She is a temptation indeed, and perhaps he should have held his tongue a little, if only to disallow her the knowledge of just how much power she has over him. ]
I am not sure that either of us would be able to keep the promise of 'just once'.
[ Not when her arms are around him, fingers brushing against his neck, and all Seteth can do is lean back and close his eyes. ]
( Seteth going to extremes isn't unusual by any means -- Byleth remembers the panic that wracked the otherwise unflappable man when Flayn disappeared. Though that was certainly because it was his daughter of all things, no one would deny that what Seteth was, in fact, was a man keeping a tight lid on everything in order to appear as composed as he must. And as much as Byleth would enjoy cracking that, letting all that passion and emotion flow out and basking in it -- he keeps her at just enough of an arm's length that it's maddening. He can pledge his loyalty, swear that his life his her's and yet refuse to even kiss her, to say that he loves her.
Perhaps that's simply what she gets for deciding to set her sights on a widower.
But this is, everyone's agreed, far out of his normal behavior that it's downright worrisome. Flayn had told her that he'd locked himself in the office and was refusing to come out, and when Byleth had gone to try he'd sounded... very much unlike himself, as if something had managed to ruffle his feathers. And yet he'd still refused to open the damn door, or let either of them know what had gotten into him.
Which is how it came to this. Claude had offered a ride up to his window -- if the man could bar the door he most likely wasn't considering the alternative -- and perhaps his concern for her wellbeing would override simply keeping her there. Taking a step off the back of the wyvern, Byleth gave Claude a wave -- hand gripping the stonework around it. A nudge of her foot reveals that he hadn't thought to lock it; the room beyond is dark.
Brow creasing, Byleth lets herself in with a soft sound as she drops from the window; there's something heavy in the air that she can't name -- the stuffiness of having kept oneself locked away for days perhaps. If she can just find the man she'd have an answer-- )
[ The discontent that he feels isn't something unfamiliar, but it is a feeling he has gone many years without: he has not had to endure this for quite some time. The idea of having to find someone to live through this with is not one that comes close to crossing his mind, and so Seteth has taken the only option remaining to him; isolation, imprisoning himself so that the warmth that is flooding him and leaving him flushed and desperate might die alone.
Of course, that is not entirely what happens, not when he is stuck with a curious nuisance who seems determined to do whatever she can to break down any and all walls that he attempts to put between the two of them.
No matter his devotion to her, the knowledge that Byleth is the woman that he would choose to spend the rest of her life with, should she let him, he cannot allow her to see him like this. It is shameful, to be so wanton and needy, to feel so desperate, to want and want and want without any outlet. He can only imagine that it is her presence and the desire he has for her that has inspired this rushing heat: he would have lived well enough without it otherwise, given how he has lasted the many centuries before.
The heat had sneaked upon him when he was too far from his chambers to make an escape, and thus he has locked himself in his office and barricaded the door. Few people would dare to try and push him when he so clearly does not want company, so he had imagined himself safe - but he had not anticipated someone using the window against him. He had left it unlocked, desperate for the cool air to soothe some of the aches and hurts that are thrumming through him, and he closes his eyes as he hears footsteps, and then a voice.
Of course, she has come. Of course.
Lifting himself to sit up a little straighter, trying to push away the ache of desire and the want that makes him feel weak, he scowls. ]
I believe I told you when you knocked that I did not want company.
[ He pushes some of his hair from his face, feeling sticky, damp, flushed. ]
Flayn has no reason for concern, and neither do you. I am just - working.
( His displeased expression had failed to work on her the moment she understood that his disposition was not, in fact, as sour as he wished people would believe it to be. But he looks -- ill. No, not ill, exactly -- she would have left him be if she thought he truly was sick.
As if he's been sitting in a great heat for far longer than wise. Byleth's hands itch, suddenly, seeing the hair stuck to his forehead with a sudden, sharp clarity that takes her by surprise. What harm could there be in reaching out to him? His ire? If Seteth was truly angry she would have already earned that just by entering. )
You did, yes. But I don't recall listening to you in the past. ( Rather the opposite, in fact. But her frown deepens as her eyes adjust, as she gets a better look at him. Something is wrong, she thinks, but she doesn't know exactly what. ) Working? On what -- no one has had a chance to speak to you in person for days to give you anything new.
( Byleth wouldn't accuse him of lying to her, she simply believes that is not the entire true. )
Do you think I do not have ample work without being given more?
[ Which is reasonable, even if it might be a little duplicitous - he does have a great deal of paperwork and inventory and accounts to go over, but that is not the true reason for his isolation. He can feel the burning under his skin ignite all the more with her proximity, and he loathes himself for it, for his inability to keep control of himself in any measure of this matter.
He ought to be better, given his position and standing, and that is what grates on him. When Seteth turns to look at her, he can feel a desire that has lain dormant for years, and it makes him wish to tear his own teeth from his mouth or rip his hair from the root. He is better than this, surely, as a man, as a creature, whatever one might call him these days.
Slowly, he leans back in his chair and breathes out a soft noise, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. He feels better for it, to not be looking at her, if only so he can deny what is happening inside himself. ]
I assure you, there is nothing that you can do at this particular moment, professor, so it would be in your best interests to leave me to my work.
( That is a fair counterpoint to her claim -- he always seems to have some work to do. As do they all, given the war they are fighting, and he more than most with the way he has taken up Rhea's work. But she knows what he is like when he is working -- that is to say he always makes time for his daughter, for Byleth. Refusing to see both of them is uncharacteristic of him.
Seteth holds his secrets close to his chest because he feels like he must. Byleth knows that by now, and is more than willing to let him keep them in order to allow him that sense of security, to keep those that he loves safe. She knows by now that she is included in that, but just like Flayn she does not need it -- and certainly not when it came to him. Byleth trusts him implicitly, even with all the secrets he keeps.
Which is why she takes a step forward, a hand reaching out for him -- close enough now that her fingers can brush the skin on the back of his hand. Warm, she thinks, unnaturally so. Perhaps he is sick after all -- yet why lock himself in here? )
I can take you to the infirmary if you're ill, Seteth. It would be better for you than locking yourself up in here.
( The concern on he face is plain, worry seeping into the corner of her eyes. Her face is still learning how to reflect the emotions she's feeling, but when it comes to Seteth and her students she finds it easier to express that part of herself. )
There is nothing that can be done. I simply need a little time.
[ Seteth feels a little uncomfortable with how close she is, with the way that she is looking at him, and reaching out to offer him her comfort. It's not something that he wishes to unburden, especially not to her, and the twist of irritation that he feels in his gut makes him feel guilty, somehow. As if he should have expected this, even though there was no way he would ever have been able to predict it happening.
It had been centuries since he had felt the desire to mate, or to be with anyone in any form, and for it to happen now... A frown creases his face, and he leans back, drawing himself away from her. ]
Do trust me when I say that this is the most logical and viable option. It will pass, and you have no reason for concern.
[ Not that he thinks she is going to listen, but... ]
I would prefer it if you would leave me alone to my work.
( She isn't going to listen. Her arms cross over her chest, staring him down with an unflinching stare -- though that is no different than how she normally looks. Something is off, and Byleth doesn't know what; it's true that Seteth would put his own health aside for the sake of his work, pushing through whatever illness has overcome him. Yet to push it further and not listen to his own daughter...
He learns back, away from her -- it is a distance he hasn't put between them since her first days as a Professor; when he did not trust her, or think much of her at all. Byleth frowns then, her brow creasing. )
You tell me that there's nothing to be done and that I shouldn't worry? Has this illness caused you to lose your mind? ( He must have if he thought that would be enough to placate her. Byleth shakes her head, her green hair spilling over her shoulders in waves. ) Or should I report back to Flayn that her father is suffering unduly and that I left him there to work?
( It is a low blow to bring Flayn up in this, Byleth knows that. But she also knows how dearly they love each other; the young woman wouldn't mind that Byleth would pull out all the stops to make sure Seteth is at least taking care of himself. Underhanded ways included, though she will apologize for them later.
Maybe.
With a small twist of her lips upwards, Byleth settles on a set path foward. )
Very well. I'll leave -- but only after you tell me what plagues you so.
[ Unfortunately, her obstinate nature is an attractive feature and Seteth finds himself as pleased by this as he is irritated - her dedication to the cause is one of the things he is constantly fond of. It is difficult to have that attention turned entirely onto him, however, and he would much prefer she focus instead on her students and the battles happening outside.
Lifting his hand, he covers his mouth. Each step she takes closer makes him smell her all the more, the scent of her flooding the room, and it makes him yearn. Dangerous indeed. ]
I have not lost my mind, I simply know the best way to take care of it. [ His voice is a little louder now, airing his frustrations with some difficulty. ] Flayn is well aware that I go through... Bouts of this, and she would remind you that I enjoy my privacy.
[ But his daughter would be worried, and desperately concerned, and that makes Seteth frown. He doesn't want her to come closer, doesn't want more of this, but he can feel himself filled with desire and want, a yearning to wrap his arms around her and bury himself inside her.
It's a terrible thing, to think she would accept it if it would cure him, not because she might want it also.
Groaning, he turns his head away. ]
It is a simple illness. I have endured it before and I shall endure it now.
( Unlike Seteth, Byleth has what she would describe as a healthy work-life balance, all things considered. Her work as a Professor and on the field of battle do not have to come at the expense of her own well-being. For a moment she does consider leaving him be, as set in his ways as he is it is only fair that he suffer alone. But something eats at her, and she frowns. )
Flayn did not remind me of such. Instead, she insisted that I see to you.
( Out of concern, Byleth thought. But now she's beginning to wonder if this isn't part of some grander plan of Flayn's; Seteth might think his daughter not capable of such deception, but Byleth knows otherwise. For his own good, would be her likely explanation. For once it feels as if her mind is foggy; there is something there in the mist of her thoughts, just out of reach of her grasping fingers that would make all of this suddenly make sense.
Seteth won't look at her; covering his nose and mouth as if he is afraid to... breathe at her? No, that's not right -- her brow creases further, and Byleth shakes her head as if that will do anything to help. She takes another step forward, again reaching out for him, fingers brushing his forehead as she pushes back the strands of hair. His skin is hot, achingly so; it shocks her enough to draw a hiss of surprise out of her, eyes wide as she takes is appearance in. A man run ragged; who does he think she is, as if she could leave him like this? )
I hate to see you suffer so. If there is anything I can do, Seteth; Flayn thinks I must be capable of some help-- Don't push me away.
( Not like he has, keeping a barrier between them no matter how desperately she wishes otherwise. )
[ Seteth's irritation is only because he knows that if she stays for much longer it will be his self-control that will be in danger, twinned with her. The determination she has to help people is endearing and worthy of respect and celebration, there is no denying that, but at the same time he has no desire to give in to this. It would be unworthy of him, and she does not deserve the consequences of his own foolishness.
No matter how determined she might be, and that makes him all the more aggrieved.
The touch to his forehead has him almost flinching, but he masters himself and breathes out a sigh. If she stays for much longer he knows that he will not be able to resist temptation, and the urge he has to pull her close and wrap his arms around her is unfathomable. He cannot even temper himself with the reminder of his daughter and her possible machinations - there is no doubt in his mind that Flayn laid the framework of this with the hope of pushing Byleth and himself together. He would be far more frustrated if he did not love her so.
Bowing his head, he closes his eyes and tries to swallow back his want and desire without being overwhelmed by the very scent of her. ]
It will go in a few days. Please take me at my word on that - I would not lie to you about this.
[ Seteth's voice is low, and a little hoarse, and he swallows. ]
It is an illness, yes, but not one that needs a cure or to be taken care of. It will have left me by the end of the weekend, with or without your aid, professor. I cannot ask anything of you.
In the moments that she feels more charitable -- because this was Byleth's idea and she has grown to trust Byleth nearly as much as she trusts Hubert -- she reminds herself that she also hated it when Hubert first pointed out to her that keeping herself aligned with those who slither in the dark until a more opportune time may not only be the best way to take down the fabled Immaculate One but also the best way to to keep herself on the throne and effective. Dead or dethroned she would be of no use to anyone.
She had refused to have this meeting at the monastery. It wasn't long ago that Seteth and Flayn were launching a surprise attack with the hope of winning it back from her. As much as she likes the idea of sparing lives when she can, she struggled with the impracticality of allowing Seteth and Flayn to leave, not convinced that she wouldn't eventually fight them again at Rhea's right and left hand.
But soft-hearted Flayn was obviously there for Seteth. And Seteth, almost to her surprise, cared more about Flayn than their sacred ground. She didn't have to go along with Byleth's urging to spare them but she did and believes that without that goodwill in place this negotiation would not be happening, regardless of Byleth.
So she finds herself in a tent about a mile from Remire village, sitting with as impassive an expression as she can muster, the formal mask of the emperor in place, as Byleth attempts to lead them to compromise. Yes, she would like assistance in weeding those who slither in the dark from the Adrestian nobility. So far their attempts to locate a stronghold have felt halfhearted as long as the war keeps them so preoccupied and she has had the shadow of Thales looming over her shoulder for so long that being distrustful and secretive is as necessary as breathing. The Knights of Seiros could help with that but she has an army that outnumbers them quite significantly as it is. What intrigues her more is anything the Church may be able to share about their old enemy. Known weaknesses, bases, recognizable patterns and habits, perhaps even clues about how they are able to use someone's likeness and so thoroughly inhabit their lives.
But a promise of knowledge that Rhea can mete out however she chooses -- knowledge that by now is clearly somewhat outdated -- isn't nearly enough to make Edelgard agree to hand over her hard-won central base. Garreg Mach has been vital to her operations and she does not plan to budge until Rhea agrees to step down. If the Church is to survive and help usher in meaningful change, she doesn't see another path forward.
When Byleth finally suggests that they adjourn for the evening, she agrees to it. And just a few hours later, unable to even consider falling asleep, she tugs a thick coat over the linen tunic and trousers she means to sleep in, sheathes her dagger in one boot, and steps back out of her tent. Between the insects and the crackle of torches and the murmured conversations of the night's watch, the camp won't ever be closer to quiet than this.
Catherine, sitting outside Rhea's tent, watches her like a hawk as she passes but she doesn't slow until passing the tent Seteth shares with Flayn. She can't make out every low word of the conversation going on within and if she had to describe Flayn's tone she might say coaxing but as the flap of the tent opens and Seteth emerges she does her best not to look at though she's curious.
( Byleth, in spite of her best efforts, is no match to Seteth's stamina. His breeding season, as wild and unpredictable as the nature he tries to set aside, takes its toll on her body just as much as it does his. But she is, as one of her students might say 'not a quitter', and thus when her cunt finds overstimulation painful enough to bring her to tears and her jaw aches from sucking him off, she turns to something else. )
Come here, Seteth. ( Her voice is raw, throat sore from the size and shape of his cock and the moans that being fucked to near unconsciousness bring out of her. It's lucky that his quarters are far enough away from everyone else's that their chances of being overheard are minimal. Not that Byleth would find it bothersome -- perhaps she can convince him to take her somewhere where their chances of being found are high. But for now she is on her back, inclined and covered in sweat and come. With more to come, she hopes. For now, however, she directs Seteth as smoothly as she does on the battlefield, getting him to kneel astride her, urging his hips up so that his cockhead brushes the bottom of her breasts. ) You love my breasts, don't you? I've seen you staring at them for years now.
( As repressed as he is, she doesn't think he would have ever given her a positive answer should she have asked him before they began fucking. But she'd seen him, felt his eyes on her body even as he would always meet her eyes when talking to her. The way his hands bite into her thighs hard enough to bruise, barely hidden by the pattern of her tights -- as if she could ever want another when she has him. But it's fun to see him possessive, to let slip the tight grip on his self control in a way that makes him want to mark her, breed her according to the biological imperative demanded by his species, made worse for the fact that there is so few of them left. )
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pre-end of game, golden deer. brushing off the dust i'm so sorry.
And Byleth simply won't have it. Seteth is so tightly wound, keeping the Church together in Rhea's absence and fighting alongside her on the field that he needs to release the tension somehow. Stressed soldiers are liable to err, after all, and they do not need one of their best distracted. Claude would agree, if she had let him know -- but even Byleth knows better than to bring him into this particular scheme. For now. She's counting nothing out if this fails.
Dressed down, armor left in her own chambers, Byleth only gives Seteth a warning knock at his office door before she lets herself in. He is, as predicted, working. She suspects many things of Seteth -- none that she wishes to confront him with at this point, as they are inconsequential for the moment -- but never of being anything less than absolutely dedicated to the task at hand.
She simply wants the task at hand to involve her, and sex. )
Seteth? Sorry to disturb you-- ( Byleth is not, and he likely knows that. ) But could I have a moment of your time?
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Could anyone be surprised that he wishes to cling to what he has when losing it feels like such a danger?
There has been a clear challenge to that self-control, and that is undeniably Byleth. Having her returned to them is a blessing he had not thought to imagine, and the relief he had felt when she'd been returned to them all was something he kept tucked close to his chest. Admitting to her that he would be at her side for as long as she would have him, swearing his life to hers...
Perhaps she might have some inkling.
Lifting his head at the knock to his door, he frowns, ready to scold before he realises who it is. Shifting, he puts his ink pen down, leaning back in his too-large chair as he watches her. She is beautiful, he thinks, but there must be some purpose for her visit, so he locks that thought away amongst all the others that he denies himself.
Shaking his head, he motions to a chair in front of him. ]
It is no trouble at all. How might I assist you?
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Grief for those she'd lost. Affection for her students and Flayn, that precious comradery with her fellow teachers, joy at seeing them once again. Her heart might still not beat in her breast, but she understands it now. Which leads her back to Seteth and her plan to finally get him to break, just a little.
It's all well and good to know that the object of her affection and lust feels similarly, but beyond his grand statements of loyalty and devotion, he's so tightly locked down that Byleth would swear he did not mean any of it if she didn't know that he would never lie to her.
And he needs the release as much as she.
The stained glass behind him throws his figure into sharp relief, the curve of his jaw and his nose putting her in mind of the saints themselves. Something else she means to ask him about, when the time is better.
Byleth smiles as she settles into the seat, as if this is simply a meeting like any other. Lure him into a sense of security before pressing the attack and he'll be less likely to successfully escape once she's sprung the trap. )
I was hoping for your help regarding a matter that's been troubling me. ( True. ) You see, I take the health and wellbeing of all our soldiers seriously, but there is one who has been-- difficult, you could say.
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It is not as though he dislikes the idea of avoiding his work - it would be a relief to escape it for at least a few hours - but he feels the pull of dedication nudging at him. He feels as though he ought to be focussing on what he is capable of doing, especially with how distressing the last few months have been. It has been difficult, not just for him, but also for the Church as a whole.
Seteth is tired, but he does all that he can to hide it. It would not do to put more pressure on Flayn, on the people they still have... On her dear Professor.
Still, he draws his attention back to her, focusses on her, letting his gaze settle on her face. It might be that some still claim that she is bereft of emotion, that she is cold, or distant, but he knows otherwise. He saw her grief at the loss of her father, of the change in her students, of the pain that was reflected in her when she returned to the Church. It makes him ache a little inside.
Her smile captivates him, and he feels his own lips twitch, just a little, before his attention rests properly on her. ]
If there is someone that requires our help then we should do all that we can to give it.
[ Difficult. He frowns. ]
Have they been causing problems, professor?
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It is that deep wellspring of love and devotion that drew her to him, and kept her interest even after five years. That he felt towards her, the way he swore himself to her. She has no experience with romantic love, but Byleth is certain that this must be some part of it. Which brings her back to the point at hand. )
No, they are a true solider to the letter, and a dear friend besides. But they cause those that care about them to worry. Some fear that they are stretching themselves too thin, or that their dedication to their duty might cause them to neglect their own needs and desires. ( She is concerned for his wellbeing, beyond her desire to have sex with him. Seteth is extremely dear to her in a way that feels new and novel and also simply right. If she can provide some means of easing his burdens then she will do so, in whatever form that might take. ) I worry for him.
( She stands then, coming to the side of the desk to rest her hip against it. Perhaps he might not realize yet who it is that concerns her. Perhaps he has, but that will not change her goal. )
What would you suggest I do, Seteth?
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It does not dawn on that she might well be speaking of him; that is something so far from his mind that it doesn't even begin to register. Instead, his focus is entirely upon her and nothing else.
His heart feels a little warm as he looks at her, but he ignores that swell. ]
I suppose they are the type that would eschew any suggestion that they take pause, or have some time for themselves? That is commendable, to say the least.
[ Glancing up, he watches her fondly for a moment, ignoring the gentle push of jealousy. Byleth cares for all her students - he cannot allow himself to envy her concern. ]
Have you tried to discuss with them the merits of a rested body and mind?
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Humming, Byleth considers his words, as if she's thinking of someone else other than the man sitting in front of her. It's difficult considering how he holds her in his gaze, as if she is the only thing that matters in all of this. It's intoxicating, it makes her want to throw out her plans entirely and drag him down onto the desk with her. )
I have. But he is dedicated to his job and his duty -- normally I would find it admirable. I do. Do find it admirable. But I worry for him, what he might be setting aside in his personal life.
( She slides closer to him, a hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from his forehead. )
How am I to show him the value of letting himself go when he refuses to do so in the first place?
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If he is putting the pieces together correctly... He will simply have to ask her to leave him to his work. A simple, easy solution to the matter. ]
Are you perhaps overestimating what you know - or do not know - of his personal life? It may well be that he is quite content in the balance, and if it is not impacting his work outside what is required of him.
[ Yes, he thinks he has put the pieces together now, but he does not tear himself from her touch. No, he watches her instead, his expression tightening just a little.
Enough to know the edge of frustration. ]
I do not need you to take care of me, Byleth.
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Not for everything though, and before Seteth can think to stop her, she throws a leg over his so that she can sit on the desk, on his work, legs straddling him. Pinning him in might be a dirty trick but Byleth is not one to give an inch when she can taste victory. )
A relationship is not determined by the desires of one person, Seteth. Perhaps I wish to take care of you, if you will let me.
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As unnecessary as it is, of course. It's not needed, and he shows her as much with the expression on his face. ]
I am not a child that requires a scheduled break. I do know when to stop and retire for an evening.
[ Or how to slip away in the early hours of the morning to catch a few hours of rest. His hands drop to the armrests at his side. ]
What would you prefer I do? Simply abandon my work?
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Which is why her hands come up to play with the buttons over his chest, fingertips pressing into the cloth to feel the surprising amount of muscle underneath. )
No, no. ( A shake of her head. ) Your work is important for all that I might argue you spend too much time on it. And I would not be the only one who would do so.
( Everyone would agree with her, frankly. )
Let me show you a way to relax.
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Still, he does have work to do and it is difficult to ignore that even if he wants to spend his time with her. It is a balance he has not had to concern himself with for many years, and he feels foolish for thinking of it now, letting his heart wrest control from his head. ]
I spend as much time is necessary on it, you and I both know that. You spend as many hours with your students, I might remind you.
[ Sighing, he leans back a little, glancing up at her sourly. ]
This is not a battle you will allow me to win, is it?
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( He might be sour -- though she cannot blame him for it this once -- but Byleth will attempt to make it worth his while. Though it is just as much for her as it is for him; she aches for his touch the longer she finds herself without it. His uncompromising nature is attractive to be sure, but frustrating by half when all she wants is his touch, his affection, the devotion she knows he feels towards her.
Byleth laces her fingers behind his neck, giving him what she hopes is a reassuring, comforting smile. )
Just once, Seteth. And then I will let the matter go until you decide otherwise.
( Until after the war. Until after what comes after that. Byleth thinks they have time available to them. )
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She is a temptation indeed, and perhaps he should have held his tongue a little, if only to disallow her the knowledge of just how much power she has over him. ]
I am not sure that either of us would be able to keep the promise of 'just once'.
[ Not when her arms are around him, fingers brushing against his neck, and all Seteth can do is lean back and close his eyes. ]
Fine. I will allow it, this once.
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Perhaps that's simply what she gets for deciding to set her sights on a widower.
But this is, everyone's agreed, far out of his normal behavior that it's downright worrisome. Flayn had told her that he'd locked himself in the office and was refusing to come out, and when Byleth had gone to try he'd sounded... very much unlike himself, as if something had managed to ruffle his feathers. And yet he'd still refused to open the damn door, or let either of them know what had gotten into him.
Which is how it came to this. Claude had offered a ride up to his window -- if the man could bar the door he most likely wasn't considering the alternative -- and perhaps his concern for her wellbeing would override simply keeping her there. Taking a step off the back of the wyvern, Byleth gave Claude a wave -- hand gripping the stonework around it. A nudge of her foot reveals that he hadn't thought to lock it; the room beyond is dark.
Brow creasing, Byleth lets herself in with a soft sound as she drops from the window; there's something heavy in the air that she can't name -- the stuffiness of having kept oneself locked away for days perhaps. If she can just find the man she'd have an answer-- )
You've been worrying Flayn, Seteth.
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Of course, that is not entirely what happens, not when he is stuck with a curious nuisance who seems determined to do whatever she can to break down any and all walls that he attempts to put between the two of them.
No matter his devotion to her, the knowledge that Byleth is the woman that he would choose to spend the rest of her life with, should she let him, he cannot allow her to see him like this. It is shameful, to be so wanton and needy, to feel so desperate, to want and want and want without any outlet. He can only imagine that it is her presence and the desire he has for her that has inspired this rushing heat: he would have lived well enough without it otherwise, given how he has lasted the many centuries before.
The heat had sneaked upon him when he was too far from his chambers to make an escape, and thus he has locked himself in his office and barricaded the door. Few people would dare to try and push him when he so clearly does not want company, so he had imagined himself safe - but he had not anticipated someone using the window against him. He had left it unlocked, desperate for the cool air to soothe some of the aches and hurts that are thrumming through him, and he closes his eyes as he hears footsteps, and then a voice.
Of course, she has come. Of course.
Lifting himself to sit up a little straighter, trying to push away the ache of desire and the want that makes him feel weak, he scowls. ]
I believe I told you when you knocked that I did not want company.
[ He pushes some of his hair from his face, feeling sticky, damp, flushed. ]
Flayn has no reason for concern, and neither do you. I am just - working.
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As if he's been sitting in a great heat for far longer than wise. Byleth's hands itch, suddenly, seeing the hair stuck to his forehead with a sudden, sharp clarity that takes her by surprise. What harm could there be in reaching out to him? His ire? If Seteth was truly angry she would have already earned that just by entering. )
You did, yes. But I don't recall listening to you in the past. ( Rather the opposite, in fact. But her frown deepens as her eyes adjust, as she gets a better look at him. Something is wrong, she thinks, but she doesn't know exactly what. ) Working? On what -- no one has had a chance to speak to you in person for days to give you anything new.
( Byleth wouldn't accuse him of lying to her, she simply believes that is not the entire true. )
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[ Which is reasonable, even if it might be a little duplicitous - he does have a great deal of paperwork and inventory and accounts to go over, but that is not the true reason for his isolation. He can feel the burning under his skin ignite all the more with her proximity, and he loathes himself for it, for his inability to keep control of himself in any measure of this matter.
He ought to be better, given his position and standing, and that is what grates on him. When Seteth turns to look at her, he can feel a desire that has lain dormant for years, and it makes him wish to tear his own teeth from his mouth or rip his hair from the root. He is better than this, surely, as a man, as a creature, whatever one might call him these days.
Slowly, he leans back in his chair and breathes out a soft noise, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. He feels better for it, to not be looking at her, if only so he can deny what is happening inside himself. ]
I assure you, there is nothing that you can do at this particular moment, professor, so it would be in your best interests to leave me to my work.
[ The politest dismissal he can muster. ]
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Seteth holds his secrets close to his chest because he feels like he must. Byleth knows that by now, and is more than willing to let him keep them in order to allow him that sense of security, to keep those that he loves safe. She knows by now that she is included in that, but just like Flayn she does not need it -- and certainly not when it came to him. Byleth trusts him implicitly, even with all the secrets he keeps.
Which is why she takes a step forward, a hand reaching out for him -- close enough now that her fingers can brush the skin on the back of his hand. Warm, she thinks, unnaturally so. Perhaps he is sick after all -- yet why lock himself in here? )
I can take you to the infirmary if you're ill, Seteth. It would be better for you than locking yourself up in here.
( The concern on he face is plain, worry seeping into the corner of her eyes. Her face is still learning how to reflect the emotions she's feeling, but when it comes to Seteth and her students she finds it easier to express that part of herself. )
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[ Seteth feels a little uncomfortable with how close she is, with the way that she is looking at him, and reaching out to offer him her comfort. It's not something that he wishes to unburden, especially not to her, and the twist of irritation that he feels in his gut makes him feel guilty, somehow. As if he should have expected this, even though there was no way he would ever have been able to predict it happening.
It had been centuries since he had felt the desire to mate, or to be with anyone in any form, and for it to happen now... A frown creases his face, and he leans back, drawing himself away from her. ]
Do trust me when I say that this is the most logical and viable option. It will pass, and you have no reason for concern.
[ Not that he thinks she is going to listen, but... ]
I would prefer it if you would leave me alone to my work.
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He learns back, away from her -- it is a distance he hasn't put between them since her first days as a Professor; when he did not trust her, or think much of her at all. Byleth frowns then, her brow creasing. )
You tell me that there's nothing to be done and that I shouldn't worry? Has this illness caused you to lose your mind? ( He must have if he thought that would be enough to placate her. Byleth shakes her head, her green hair spilling over her shoulders in waves. ) Or should I report back to Flayn that her father is suffering unduly and that I left him there to work?
( It is a low blow to bring Flayn up in this, Byleth knows that. But she also knows how dearly they love each other; the young woman wouldn't mind that Byleth would pull out all the stops to make sure Seteth is at least taking care of himself. Underhanded ways included, though she will apologize for them later.
Maybe.
With a small twist of her lips upwards, Byleth settles on a set path foward. )
Very well. I'll leave -- but only after you tell me what plagues you so.
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Lifting his hand, he covers his mouth. Each step she takes closer makes him smell her all the more, the scent of her flooding the room, and it makes him yearn. Dangerous indeed. ]
I have not lost my mind, I simply know the best way to take care of it. [ His voice is a little louder now, airing his frustrations with some difficulty. ] Flayn is well aware that I go through... Bouts of this, and she would remind you that I enjoy my privacy.
[ But his daughter would be worried, and desperately concerned, and that makes Seteth frown. He doesn't want her to come closer, doesn't want more of this, but he can feel himself filled with desire and want, a yearning to wrap his arms around her and bury himself inside her.
It's a terrible thing, to think she would accept it if it would cure him, not because she might want it also.
Groaning, he turns his head away. ]
It is a simple illness. I have endured it before and I shall endure it now.
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Flayn did not remind me of such. Instead, she insisted that I see to you.
( Out of concern, Byleth thought. But now she's beginning to wonder if this isn't part of some grander plan of Flayn's; Seteth might think his daughter not capable of such deception, but Byleth knows otherwise. For his own good, would be her likely explanation. For once it feels as if her mind is foggy; there is something there in the mist of her thoughts, just out of reach of her grasping fingers that would make all of this suddenly make sense.
Seteth won't look at her; covering his nose and mouth as if he is afraid to... breathe at her? No, that's not right -- her brow creases further, and Byleth shakes her head as if that will do anything to help. She takes another step forward, again reaching out for him, fingers brushing his forehead as she pushes back the strands of hair. His skin is hot, achingly so; it shocks her enough to draw a hiss of surprise out of her, eyes wide as she takes is appearance in. A man run ragged; who does he think she is, as if she could leave him like this? )
I hate to see you suffer so. If there is anything I can do, Seteth; Flayn thinks I must be capable of some help-- Don't push me away.
( Not like he has, keeping a barrier between them no matter how desperately she wishes otherwise. )
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No matter how determined she might be, and that makes him all the more aggrieved.
The touch to his forehead has him almost flinching, but he masters himself and breathes out a sigh. If she stays for much longer he knows that he will not be able to resist temptation, and the urge he has to pull her close and wrap his arms around her is unfathomable. He cannot even temper himself with the reminder of his daughter and her possible machinations - there is no doubt in his mind that Flayn laid the framework of this with the hope of pushing Byleth and himself together. He would be far more frustrated if he did not love her so.
Bowing his head, he closes his eyes and tries to swallow back his want and desire without being overwhelmed by the very scent of her. ]
It will go in a few days. Please take me at my word on that - I would not lie to you about this.
[ Seteth's voice is low, and a little hoarse, and he swallows. ]
It is an illness, yes, but not one that needs a cure or to be taken care of. It will have left me by the end of the weekend, with or without your aid, professor. I cannot ask anything of you.
alliance possibly arranged marriage au??
In the moments that she feels more charitable -- because this was Byleth's idea and she has grown to trust Byleth nearly as much as she trusts Hubert -- she reminds herself that she also hated it when Hubert first pointed out to her that keeping herself aligned with those who slither in the dark until a more opportune time may not only be the best way to take down the fabled Immaculate One but also the best way to to keep herself on the throne and effective. Dead or dethroned she would be of no use to anyone.
She had refused to have this meeting at the monastery. It wasn't long ago that Seteth and Flayn were launching a surprise attack with the hope of winning it back from her. As much as she likes the idea of sparing lives when she can, she struggled with the impracticality of allowing Seteth and Flayn to leave, not convinced that she wouldn't eventually fight them again at Rhea's right and left hand.
But soft-hearted Flayn was obviously there for Seteth. And Seteth, almost to her surprise, cared more about Flayn than their sacred ground. She didn't have to go along with Byleth's urging to spare them but she did and believes that without that goodwill in place this negotiation would not be happening, regardless of Byleth.
So she finds herself in a tent about a mile from Remire village, sitting with as impassive an expression as she can muster, the formal mask of the emperor in place, as Byleth attempts to lead them to compromise. Yes, she would like assistance in weeding those who slither in the dark from the Adrestian nobility. So far their attempts to locate a stronghold have felt halfhearted as long as the war keeps them so preoccupied and she has had the shadow of Thales looming over her shoulder for so long that being distrustful and secretive is as necessary as breathing. The Knights of Seiros could help with that but she has an army that outnumbers them quite significantly as it is. What intrigues her more is anything the Church may be able to share about their old enemy. Known weaknesses, bases, recognizable patterns and habits, perhaps even clues about how they are able to use someone's likeness and so thoroughly inhabit their lives.
But a promise of knowledge that Rhea can mete out however she chooses -- knowledge that by now is clearly somewhat outdated -- isn't nearly enough to make Edelgard agree to hand over her hard-won central base. Garreg Mach has been vital to her operations and she does not plan to budge until Rhea agrees to step down. If the Church is to survive and help usher in meaningful change, she doesn't see another path forward.
When Byleth finally suggests that they adjourn for the evening, she agrees to it. And just a few hours later, unable to even consider falling asleep, she tugs a thick coat over the linen tunic and trousers she means to sleep in, sheathes her dagger in one boot, and steps back out of her tent. Between the insects and the crackle of torches and the murmured conversations of the night's watch, the camp won't ever be closer to quiet than this.
Catherine, sitting outside Rhea's tent, watches her like a hawk as she passes but she doesn't slow until passing the tent Seteth shares with Flayn. She can't make out every low word of the conversation going on within and if she had to describe Flayn's tone she might say coaxing but as the flap of the tent opens and Seteth emerges she does her best not to look at though she's curious.
She doesn't actually avert her eyes, though. ]
No rest for you either, I see.
as discussed
Come here, Seteth. ( Her voice is raw, throat sore from the size and shape of his cock and the moans that being fucked to near unconsciousness bring out of her. It's lucky that his quarters are far enough away from everyone else's that their chances of being overheard are minimal. Not that Byleth would find it bothersome -- perhaps she can convince him to take her somewhere where their chances of being found are high. But for now she is on her back, inclined and covered in sweat and come. With more to come, she hopes. For now, however, she directs Seteth as smoothly as she does on the battlefield, getting him to kneel astride her, urging his hips up so that his cockhead brushes the bottom of her breasts. ) You love my breasts, don't you? I've seen you staring at them for years now.
( As repressed as he is, she doesn't think he would have ever given her a positive answer should she have asked him before they began fucking. But she'd seen him, felt his eyes on her body even as he would always meet her eyes when talking to her. The way his hands bite into her thighs hard enough to bruise, barely hidden by the pattern of her tights -- as if she could ever want another when she has him. But it's fun to see him possessive, to let slip the tight grip on his self control in a way that makes him want to mark her, breed her according to the biological imperative demanded by his species, made worse for the fact that there is so few of them left. )