Archive of Our Own ^beta

The queen was sitting with her legs crossed on the bed, her posture prim and proper, and despite the fact that the satin curtains were drawn, enclosing her in, her gaze was fixated to her left, her ears solely focusing on the rustling of a man changing into nightwear. She, of course, only needed two minutes to get all gussied up and ready to go: hair down, somewhat over her face, brushed as much as it needed to be, and wearing her favorite tank top, matching shorts, and her bathrobe that probably needed to be replaced years ago. At long last, it was nighttime, where she got to dress how she wanted. She didn’t have to put her hair up in a tight bun, wear tighter shoes, or put on the tightest crown ever made. She could relax, literally let her hair hang down, and look like a normal person. Though she was as comfortable and relaxed as she could be, she had to wonder…was she sexy enough for him?

The windows were closed, for winter was approaching, and snow would appear any day now. According to census data, the least popular time of year for weddings were the cold, chilly moons that were already too close to most other holidays, which is why they chose the very start of the Ethereal Moon. That way, the two of them proved they were performing their royal duties by ensuring a noble succession as soon as possible, while also being mindful of the fact that much of Fódlan had yet to be reconstructed, and flashy, frivolous expenditures would not stand. Furthermore, most of the people doing the preparing, decorating, and catering were common folk who lived next to Garreg Mach, thus pumping royal money straight to the people who had been hit the hardest by the long war. Naysayers, penny-pinchers, and anti-everythings, though they certainly tried, ultimately had trouble arguing that the royal wedding was too extravagant: how could they, when most of the staff would be walking home, bringing all their materials with them? Even if budgeting and timing and political savvy weren’t things to consider, the upcoming snow would be a convenient excuse for the two of them to cuddle up nice and close while they were still in the honeymoon phase.

It was maybe fifteen minutes past midnight, which was roughly her bedtime and about two hours before he convinced himself to stop working. On a technical level, their wedding day had ended, but the reception was going on without them. In fact, the music was faintly audible through their windows. If she peeked out, she would see that the lights were still on and get to observe silhouettes of her friends drunkenly dancing. Sure, it is a little rude to leave one’s own party earlier than most of the guests, doubly so for a wedding reception, but he just rambled on to anyone who asked that the two of them had so much work to sort out, and he in particular needed to file so much paperwork because not only had his name changed, but he now had to file everything jointly. It certainly wasn’t out of character for him to be thinking about taxes of all things on his wedding night, and nobody wanted to argue with him when they were sober, let alone when their bellies were full of ultra-sugary wedding cake and homemade bubbly. She pretended to be all annoyed and all, but in truth, it was ideal for her. Because, well, everyone was distracted. And therefore, no one would jeer at the couple as they scurried off…

The young queen ran her fingers through her hair. It was still a little damp from her quick wash, but she was just grateful that she managed to wash out all the gel and untangle the wisps that came after she undid her braids and buns. She had been standing up straight with her shoulders back all day, so when she let her hair flop back to her neck and shoulders, a bit of the tension melted away. There seemed to be some kind of self-healing spell in her hair that only worked when it was wild and free. The more she stretched and tried to relax, the more she learned just how tired and sore she was. Every muscle in her back, neck and shoulders were begging to lie down in the cloud-like satin sheets…but what if she fell asleep before he was finally ready to join her?

Speaking of, the newly crowned prince consort was preparing to make sure everything went smoothly. Earlier in the evening, while she was changing into her nightwear, he brought over the water jug he usually kept at his desk and set it down on the nightstand along with two glasses from the dining hall. Next, he carried the small coffee table she kept by her chaise-lounge and placed it close enough to the bed so they could reach if they stretched, yet far enough that they wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into it after getting up. He was laying out a whole bunch, possibly too many, freshly clean washcloths to the left, a large punch bowl full of hopefully lukewarm water in the middle, and then an empty laundry basket on the right. He laid out all his tools with meticulous care and lots of forethought, like he was about to perform a baptism.

Hmm…fascinating. “Girl talks” had enlightened her about, well, a lot, but no one had mentioned that, uh, the wedding night would require this level of prepping. People didn’t bring this many towels for a trip to the beach. Maybe she could chalk it up to his personality, that he would rather be over-prepared than under-prepared. Or…had he seen some shit? Byleth wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer, though it did make her snicker just a tad.

Once he was finished, he rose from the table a little more slowly than necessary. He was at the age where he threw out his back if he got up too fast, after all. Thanks to the candle on the table, she could watch his shadow as he rolled his shoulders and upper back. There were quiet hums of relief as some of his joints cracked and popped. Finally, he exhaled until there wasn't any air left in his lungs, his arms gracefully retreating back to his sides. Aww. He was tired and stiff, too…

He took a moment or two to glance down at his feet, or, come to think of it, maybe at the table of supplies to check one last time. And then she could see his long nose and tip of his beard outlined in the shadow of the curtain. He did not crane his neck or twist his back; he turned by moving his feet, his shoulders and back not moving once. Just like a captain of the guard. She wrapped her robe around her until her hands were resting on her ribs. Because, well, it was cold…

He drew back the curtains by cupping it with one hand and lifting his arm over his head. The advisor turned commander turned prime minister turned consort had hair that was combed but still a little messy, his beard somewhat scruffy and askew, deep circles under his eyes, and, unsurprisingly, he was in his favorite bathrobe with the Officers Academy insignia right over his chest. She grinned widely and felt warmth pooling in her shoulders and chest…but a clench in her stomach.

He gave her a short nod, which was also how he typically greeted other lords and ladies in meetings. Wasting no time, he sat down, let the curtain fall back into place, then twisted his body so that he could rest his legs on the soft, goosefeather down mattress. This was all done with a concentrated, clinical expression. In all likelihood, he needed a moment to catch his breath and let his muscles relax after such a long night of walking, entertaining guests and political allies alike, all while in that tight monkey suit he had to wear all day. Most of his outfits were tight and well-tailored, yes, but no one could possibly actually enjoy that, right? Not even Mr. Tight-But-Well-Tailored, himself? His body heat was immediately present, the kind of warmth that felt magnetic, and compelling. The weight of his heavy arms and legs, which would be rather formidable and intimidating, was heightened by his gentle and deliberately slow movements. It was as though the entire world, including the objects within it, were in a deep sleep, and he was trying to avoid disturbing the rest of everything he interacted with. His shoulders sank once he was properly off his feet.

The man’s hair was completely tucked behind his ears, revealing them in all their long and pointy glory. Sometimes they would twitch for a fraction of a second if she shifted her knee or rolled her ankle, other times they would twitch regardless of sound. Interesting. Could he hear better than she could? And since she is now a Nabatean, would she be able to hear things in the long, long distance in due time? She was, in all honesty, a little stunned to see them out in plain sight, and was about to ask him what occasion led to him being so bold…had she not remembered exactly what occasion it was…

He was initially sitting up straight, albeit favoring his right side. Towards her, that is. Pressing his hands into the mattress for support, he arched his back and raised his chest as far as he could withstand, holding it for three beats, then rolled his shoulder blades until she could hear the joints in his back snap and pop. More small grunts of relief slipped from his throat. Hopefully, he didn’t notice that her blush was spreading down past her nose and to her cheeks. Once he was sufficiently cracked, the consort propped himself up with his elbow and faced her properly.

They stared at each other. Despite the distance in height from her sitting up and him lying down, they made perfect eye contact for a good moment or two. That’s when he began to smile. It wasn’t the polite, diplomatic smile he was used to giving her while they were in public, no, not at all. It wasn’t wide on his face and bombastic, either.

Oh. Ohhhh, she knew that look. Whenever he was in a loving and romantic mood, he would get very quiet, and he would always wear this boyish little smirk. When she got to witness it the first few times, he looked so aloof and unresponsive that she wondered if he was even paying attention to anything she was saying. The conversation would fade, or rather, Byleth would finish what she had to say, and he would gather her up in his arms and kiss her deeply. That’s when he would answer a question or remark on one of her comments, proving he had been paying steadfast attention all along. No matter how many times it happened, it always took her breath away. And that’s what he did when he was being chaste...

Byleth slid her hips down towards the center of the bed, not only so that the two could be more level with each other, but also to try and hide her stiff muscles and tight back. Part of her wanted to stretch as he had just done, but he was watching her so intently, and…uh…she couldn’t really find it in her. (Not if stretching like he did was going to make her moan like that...) She rested her elbow on her pillow and held up her chin with her fist, since that was how cool, confident, sexy people lay on the beds with their significant others. Wait, did they? It sounded right. Although, she wasn’t sure why she was so concerned with impressing him; it wasn’t like he would annul the marriage if he woke up the next morning and realized he married some geek…

He said nothing. He just watched her get all nestled and settled with his little smile and laissez-faire, half lidded eyes. Had he somehow lost some of the bags and wrinkles that seemed entrenched in his skin? There were laugh lines and crow’s feet still present, thank the Goddess, for those were her favorite parts of his face…

The queen drew circles in her pillow with her other hand. She glanced up at him, and managed to mumble out, “So,”

He threaded his fingers together with a slight raise of his brow, his smile unchanged. If anything it grew a smidge wider. He had never been more dressed down, in more comfortable and unassuming clothing. Never was an ostentatious or flagrant sort of guy, that’s for sure. And still, he looked majestic and princely, far more regal than she ever did in full regalia. What, with his guarded facial expression and how he still posed with a straight back when he was supposed to be more relaxed. Who was the royal and who was the consort, again?

Byleth swallowed, pulling a lock of hair behind her ear. “You look…”

She let herself trail off. After all, she could meet him in the eye for half a second before she felt a strong urge to cast her gaze downward. As such, her eyes fell all the way down to his feet, as she…suddenly had a strong interest in them, is all. They didn’t look too bad, she supposed. Kinda nice. However nice feet can really look, that is. Nails trimmed and filed down, soft-looking, and he likely didn’t wear the same socks and shoes for too long. Seemed like he used a pumice stone to file away at calluses and the like. Ample lotion, too. How about that? A lot of people don’t take care of their feet, some don’t even think to wash them while bathing, but he certainly cared a great deal. Not just his feet, just, like, his whole body. Attention to detail. Self care. Nice. Very nice.

Oh, what was she doing? Staring at his feet, of all things? Why did she always focus on irrelevant details when there was a major task at hand? Could she do one socially acceptable thing for once in her life? Pressing her lips together for half a second, the former mercenary, not afraid of anything, let her eyes trail all the way back up, at the same pace she would drag her hand on a smooth piece of driftwood. Starting from the bottom, gliding up to the top. Maybe he would think she was checking him out, undressing him with her mind…that’s what one is supposed to do, right? That’s sexy, isn’t it? And not creepy or invasive? She didn’t want to pressure him or make him feel obligated…

“You look…” She mumbled again, quieter than before. Her eyes moved to the top of his thighs. And that’s when she…promptly averted her eyes to his hips. Oh no, now it just looks like she’s checking out his ass, rather than his…she decided to skip the rest of his body and just make eye contact with him, since that seemed the most…er…respectful.

His wrinkles had disappeared, that was just a fact. He let stray strands of hair stay in his face, covering bits of his cheekbones and jawline. Bit of a blush dusting his cheeks. The smile grew wider once their eyes met. All groggy and sore and tired, and to her, he looked better than she had ever seen him. Goodness. He had a holy glow around him. She felt so warm when she saw him grin. She just might need to find a locket to contain him and keep him close to her heart at all times…

“You’re…” She stretched out her legs and tried to roll her knees. Whatever adjective she wanted to say was caught in her throat.

Like how you’ll look every night, from now on?

Her free hand retreated to her unbeating chest. Her knees were beginning to buckle, so she tried to stretch out her legs as far as she could.

I really truly get to see you like this every morning and every night, for the rest of my life?

The dragon lifted his chin and shook his hair out of his face before it could fall over his eyes and block his vision. He got the message. And that’s what made her want to wince and look away…

Now, Byleth felt wonderful. The great hall was beautifully set up and decorated to the max with lilies, the crowd was lively and enthusiastic without being too rowdy and overstimulating, and the ceremony did not involve too much boring religious droning. Alois insisted on being the officiant, much to her gratitude, for she would take bad puns and dad jokes over some stuffy prig chanting rather questionably conservative prayers, any day. The reception was incredible, it was the best part, for all of her former students were there, all of her favorite foods, and the dining hall was decorated in all of her favorite colors. Great music, much laughter as she tried and failed to perform the latest dances while in a big, flowy, wildly impractical ball gown, and she had more than her fill of meat, wine, and cake. And, oh yeah, lest we forget, she got to kiss and hold and dance with Seteth, her husband, her husband, the entire time!

Admittedly, it was pretty lame that the royal guard had taken their wedding outfits away the exact second they implied they were ready for bed. The guards, and the prince consort himself, claimed that they needed them for historical preservation and restoration. Which was fair. But it was always unpleasant on any given day to be reminded she wasn’t the same as other human beings. Another thing was, she occasionally had to bear hug her idiot new husband and manhandle him away each time he tried to sneak off and make sure Flayn wasn’t talking to some ruffian who wasn’t good enough for her. Hey, if those two things were the only two flaws on her wedding day, then she wouldn’t complain too much!

All in all, she had a fun day, and what made that day even better was that she knew the days after that would be better than the last. The people of Fódlan seemed receptive to the couple becoming an item, Flayn loved her and was more than happy to let her join her family, and, well, most importantly, she was finally Seteth’s wife, and he was Byleth’s husband, after close to a year of yearning for those titles. What else could she ask for, really?

So…knowing that she wanted this particular moment for months on end, as the two were sitting together side by side…why did she feel like she would turn to stone if she met him in the eye? Didn’t she want this?

Byleth, deeply annoyed at herself for being even less eloquent than she normally was, mumbled one more time, “You look…”

He relaxed deeper into the mattress and allowed his face to somewhat disappear behind the pillows. His smile was even more lovingly content. But that’s when he rapped his fingertips against the mattress just an inch away from his torso.

And her blood ran cold.

Well. Jeralt Eisner hadn’t raised a quitter, that was for sure. As directed, Byleth crawled over to Seteth’s side. Their bed…oh damn, their bed…didn’t even creak as she nestled up against his chest. They weren’t quite sitting up properly, but they weren’t lying down just yet. Cuddling…they were just cuddling…all he wanted was a cuddle…

Seteth may have been the one to suggest it, but he didn’t move. Evidently, he was letting her take initiative and decide on the snuggling position. How gentlemanly. Ultimately, she decided that she ought to rest her head on the other end of his pillow so they could meet eyes, their chests should be cozy against each other, but with enough breathing room for the two of them, and lastly, her right hand resting on his side, not quite on his waist but not on his back. Like a hug where they just so happened to be lying down: nice and intimate, she supposed? Her…husband…hardly moved. His chin was lowered and his gaze was transfixed on her, watching her settle in his embrace. Like a wildlife expert watching a fox nestle in its burrow. Patiently waiting for…for something…as she found her niche. Glancing at him, Byleth tried to stare into his eyes and peer into his thoughts like a palm reader might. His eyes were glossy, a little lazy. She was starting to wonder if his little smirk was now stuck on his face forever.

…did he like what she chose? Was he comfortable? Was it romantic enough?

“Hi.” She said quickly, smiling up at him with a smile that was wider than usual. Rolling her neck because she was oh-so stiff and exhausted, she said in a chipper and happy-go-lucky tone, “What a day, huh?”

Seteth’s hand, calloused by war and the paperwork that followed it, draped over her back. His elbow pulled her even closer against him until her hips pressed against his stomach. Long, meticulous fingers wrapped around her shoulder, locking her securely in place. Byleth felt his lips against her forehead and his whiskers brush up against the bridge of her nose. She went numb.

“Yes…” Seteth whispered. He rested his cheek against her forehead and stroked her clavicle with his fingertips. “What a joyous day, my love.”

Swallowing air, her smile was getting unsteadier. “Uh…you had a good time at the wedding?”

“Hmmm…did I have a good time…” He airily repeated. “Well…let me put it to you this way…”

He wrapped his hand around hers and nudged it, in a manner so tame that it was more like he was only suggesting that she move it. Her hand went limp, and she let him guide it until her palm perched over his chest. His heartbeats were slow, powerful and calm. The knuckles on his other hand dragged across her shoulders, her neck, and finally to her jaw, and he lifted her chin until they met each other’s gaze. In a voice that was so solemn, and so assured, he murmured, “My heart is full…”

The queen looked off to the side, staring at something only she could see. Luckily she managed to catch herself doing this before he could take note of it. She cracked a tiny smile. “You tired?”

“A little,” His cheeks turned pink as he simpered down at her. Fingertips trailed down her jawbone and over to her cheek, so he could tuck away some of her pale green hair behind her ear. “I am far more exhausted mentally than physically. I have never enjoyed being the center of attention, as you are well aware…”

Byleth chuckled, nodding along with him. “And I know you really hate to be one of the few sober people in a room…”

Seteth closed his eyes and chuckled under his breath as he pitied himself. “I suppose that’s true; I do get so drained when I have to be a mother hen to my colleagues, never mind my political allies,”

She found herself stroking his chest, just over his heart. “So it was a double whammy for you: everyone was paying attention to you and asking you invasive questions about your love life, while being drunk as all hell and getting into mischief, on top of it.”

“You could frame it like that.” He agreed with a smirk. His hand settled on the base of her neck, in between her shoulder blades. “Yet such phrasing makes it sound like I didn’t enjoy every last moment of the ceremony, or the reception…”

“Yeah?” The queen beamed up at him. “You really did like everything?”

The prince took her hand off his heart and let her fingers curl around his, and he gave a kiss to the back of her hand. “Of course I did, my dear. The entire reception, I could not help but be very aware of the fact that, at long last, I am married to you. No irritation or vexation of mine could overpower the elation and joy that overflowed my body and mind, each and every time I saw you in that little veil…”

Her heart fluttered. She was so beautiful and such a catch that she could make a man like Seteth ignore something that was bothering him? Well…uh…jeez, he was such a nerd! Who talks like this? And who marries men who talk like this?

She nodded, and as he let go of her hand, she placed it back on his collarbone. A smile creaked on her face. “Good. I’m certainly glad…it would be a shame if you didn’t like your own wedding…”

Seteth started to wrap her hair around his finger. He would curl her locks until his knuckles were completely covered, and he would let it all slide off, then repeat the process. “Why do you ask? I hope I didn’t come across as unhappy or resentful…”

Byleth cleared her throat again, cuddling a little closer up to him but struggling to look him in the eye. “Why? Oh…well…”

She drummed her fingers against his chest. “I guess you’ve just been really quiet, is all…”

“Ah.” He nodded along. “My apologies. I don’t mean to be coy, and much less standoffish…I just don’t have much to say, for now. I was just…lost in thought, is all…”

“Lost in thought…” She nodded and brushed her hair out of her face. That could mean something totally innocent and sweet about how he was just so gosh-darn happy to be married again. As he demonstrated earlier with that lovely prose, Seteth was a very sentimental and kind of sappy bloke. It was not too far-fetched to assume that he was still high from the wedding to have energy for anything else. Her hair from her neck down to her toes stood on end.

“Yes…that’s a good way to put it…” Seteth snickered, lowering his head, close to pressing foreheads with her. “I just want to…”

Whether he knew it or not, his nose was grazing against hers. He hummed, which turned into a sigh. “I just want to drink up every bit of you. Commit how you look right this moment to memory…”

“O-Oh?” The mercenary’s face grew redder as her eyes widened and her ears stiffened behind her hair, like a rabbit in the forest when it hears a wolf. She didn’t even know her ears could do that.

There was a part of her that was eager and ready to start, that loved the idea of starting a chase, and delighted in the spontaneity and mystery of it all. Alas, that adventurous and romantic part of her was outvoted by the part of her that was…utterly petrified. Terrified. She felt her skin prickling the longer they stayed all cozied up. It wasn’t making a lick of sense to her, that’s for sure, but she had been just a hair flightier, then she likely would have rolled over right then and there, claiming that the wedding made her too tired to do anything but sleep.

…and he would have completely respected that, and let her sleep. He would never pressure her to do anything that made her uncomfortable.

And…and she didn’t want to go to sleep so soon…

“My heart is full, too…” Byleth nodded. Her go-to strategy when she had nothing to say was to repeat the sentiments of whoever she just heard. At least this time, she didn’t have to fake it too much. “I mean…you know how it doesn’t beat and all. Still, I feel, uh…”

What if she tried to hint at her anxiety? After all, she was often way too blunt when she tried to voice her thoughts and feelings; she might end up hurting his own feelings by accident if she was honest. He was a smart guy, he could take the hint. Would he go easy on her? She peered up at him and grinned until all her teeth showed. She said rather quickly, “My heart is absolutely overflowing…”

“Is that so?” His fingers rested flat on her shoulder. And pulled her in.

Neither of them said anything for a beat or two. At least, not until the queen realized the prince wasn’t asking a rhetorical question and was actually awaiting a response. She gulped, wincing at her offbeat flow to the conversation. And, of course, her complete inability to give hints in the first place.

“Y-Yeah…” Scooting closer to him, she pressed her hands on his chest, resting her nose in his sternum.

He did not move so much as his little finger on her shoulder blade.

“...tell me more about it?” His voice was low and close to a purr. “Your overflowing little heart…”

Oh. Oh, goodness. He was so calm and subdued, could have fooled her into thinking he had innocent intentions. Would he start kissing her, soon? Kissing her deeply, one hand in her hair, and the other hand fumbling for the buttons on her top and the drawstrings on her shorts? Would he nudge her until she fell to her back? At last, could she have him any way she’d like? He’d be gentle and delicate with her, wouldn’t he? But what if he was just so pent-up with frustration that even if he wanted to be gentle, he would give into his urges and take her like an ogre in those old myths? Damn, wait a minute, did he even know that she was a…was a…

Her skin was prickling and blood was rushing away from her head. Her ribs felt like they were threading through each other and crushing her lungs. She couldn’t breathe.

Byleth wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Her shoulders rolled and she shivered like she was about to be sick. She needed air. He was suffocating her. Couldn’t he see that?! She jerked her head back, grimacing, and she pulled her arms away. Taking in a gulp of the crisp, wintry night air and letting it fill through her lungs, it cooled down the prickling pins and needles pain in her arms and soothed her like lotion on a sunburn. She was safe.

Oh no. Did she just push him away? As in, shoved him, physically? No, she couldn’t have. Well, she remembered moving away and…no…no, she…no, she didn’t do that, she would never be so harsh to him. No, no she didn’t, her mind was trying to change her own memories moments after it happened, when it’s not how…it’s not how it happened…

The wolfish look in his eyes quickly vanished. His eyebrows shot up and he wrinkled his forehead, his lips parting in a light gasp. Seteth was back. But his smile was gone.

“Byleth?” He was frowning and furrowing his brow. A hand reached for her halfway, but his fingers curled reluctantly. It was plain in his eyes. They were still so full of love, adoration, and desire for closeness.

No, no, no, please. She didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, and she definitely didn’t want to reject him. Or make him think that he was being rejected! No, she couldn’t bear such a thought. Was she just stupid?! Getting married just like that without preparing for sex? Or worse, was he really not thinking about anything sexual in the slightest and was truly content with cuddling her all night? Did she just make their wedding night awkward?

Why oh why did she only have good people skills when it came to killing them?!

He put his hand behind his neck and swallowed. Closing his eyes, a smaller, more platonic smile came back as he sheepishly mumbled, “...I was laying it on too thick, wasn’t I?”

Oh, oh good. He didn’t look like his soul was crushed and he would feel nothing but rejection and abandonment for the rest of time. But, no, wait, he was blaming himself for her outburst. No, Seteth. If only he could see that he was not at fault, and that she was the problem, here. The professor’s throat was dry…maybe she could trouble him for some of that water on their nightstand? Wait…is that why he brought it over?

“Uhhh…” Byleth bent her knees close to her stomach. In the tiniest voice she ever heard, she managed to squeak out, “No, no you weren’t…”

Seteth sat up. He had to lay his hands flat against the mattress and push himself up, being the old man that he was. Once he was up, he reached around and lifted up his pillows until they rested against the headboard. Glancing down at her with a warm, glowing smile, he reached over and pulled a lock of hair out of her face and behind her ear. Gentle squeeze to her jaw, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb.

Ah. He did that because she usually did he same thing to comfort him, when he was the anxious one and overwhelmed by everything. How dare he subtly let her know that he was a safe person to confide in, and that he would treat her feelings delicately, giving her the same level of care she gave to him. When did he ever promise to love and cherish her for the rest of her days? How awful of him. This wasn’t the man she married…

Byleth pushed herself up and groaned, much like how a flu patient forces themselves out of bed. Her hands wrapped around her stomach as she rolled her hips on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable sitting position. She tried to give them each some space between them, for she still felt pretty guilty over scaring him like that, but she found some courage within her to put her forehead in the crook of his neck.

Just like how he always hugged or cuddled her, he wrapped his arm around her back so that his hand would rest on her inner arm, and he kissed her widow’s peak. It was his favorite way of greeting her when they knew they were truly alone. She sighed defeatedly, and she scooted her thighs until they grazed his own.

“I’m sorry…” She mumbled as she rubbed her sides. “I’m being weird…”

“You have nothing to apologize for, my dear,” He closed his eyes and shook his head for just long enough for her to understand. He found himself swaying to the rhythm of the violins that were still playing outside in their honor. “I’m not hurt or offended,”

“Yeah?” She pulled her knees close to her chest. Maybe it looked a little juvenile and teenage, but it helped her take her hands off her stomach.

“Yes,” His free hand rested on his knee. “Do you need some space, for now?”

Byleth swallowed. No, space was the last thing she needed.

“Ah. You just need time to gather your thoughts,” Seteth nodded sagely. “Take your time. I’ll be right here…”

Imagine that. He says she needs time to think, and, wow, like magic, the very words she wanted to tell him came to her. Is he a mind reader? Or is it that most people find the words they want to say when they feel safe? She took in a deep, long breath. Pulling her head away, she flipped her hair out of her face and behind her ears. As confident as she would ever be, she met him in the eye and told him, “I want you. Really, I do. That is a fact.”

“Indeed…” Seteth crooned. “I can feel it in your touch…”

“I just wanted to make that clear, this isn’t me trying to scorn you,”

His arm shifted. Rolled around and relaxed, maybe out of slight discomfort or even just some kind of involuntary twitch. She didn’t quite know why, but there was a brief flash of panic in her rib cage. Briefly, the queen feared that he was about to pull his hand away, put it at his side, and never return it for the evening. Proactively, she sandwiched his hand in between both of hers, rubbing the knuckles with her fingertips. It was her best attempt to soothe and reassure him that he was wanted and loved. If she were lucky, he might be able to catch on that she was also feeling…a tad possessive.

He hummed again, and his wrist relaxed under her fingers. Was that a good sign? Please let it be a good sign that he didn’t think she was being hot and cold…

“But…” Byleth stared at her knees. “I’m…I’m nervous…”

The queen winced like she expected him to roll his eyes at her childish fears, or worse, start chiding her like he always does when she doesn’t want to do “royal” stuff. But he didn’t. He just nodded in that monkish way, like always. She tried swallowing the lump in her throat before she continued, “And I don’t really know why I’m so scared. I felt so sure and so ready for weeks, if not months. When you told me you wanted to retire for the night, I was elated.”

She grinned up at him while squeezing his hand, and he smirked back.

“But…but now that we’re here…”

Her shoulders sank, though her grip on his fingers stayed steady and firm.

“Okay, here goes. Might as well just spit it out, already…” Scrunching up her face for a hot second, she finally managed to blurt out, “I…I don’t know how sex is initiated.”

Seteth’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He let out a few gentle chuckles, first nervous, then apologetic, and he squirmed as though he was trying to find a comfortable way to sit in a cheaply made chair.

“Well…there’s no shame in that,” He replied with a faint crack in his voice. “And I’m happy to tell you everything that you need to know. It may seem like a bit of a shock to you, and that’s okay. If you’re alarmed or confused, then we don’t have to-”

“Seteth, I know what sex is.” Byleth interrupted with a monotone.

“Oh.” His smile became more genuine.

“Wooow. You think I’m that hopeless…” Byleth laughed with a grumble and a raised brow as she crossed her arms.

“No!” Seteth protested, furiously shaking his head, his amusement and embarrassment refusing to leave his face. “I never said you were hopeless! It’s quite the opposite! You’re brilliant! Deeply attuned with human behavior! It’s just…well…that’s only how I heard it!”

The bearded man rubbed his shoulder as he grit his teeth with a smile. “But it doesn’t help that you didn’t know your own age until I went digging through church records…”

“Oh, you will never let me live that down,” Byleth sighed, shaking her head. “You’re one to talk about not knowing your age, pal.”

“That is indeed a fair point,” Her husband wrapped his arm around her waist and rubbed her hip as a way to make amends. “And you won’t find any church record in this day and age that will answer that question…”

“You should be very proud of your efforts to conceal that fact,” Byleth folded her arms and smirked smugly. She found herself leaning into his touch and gravitating towards him and his warm, wide embrace. Maybe if she brushed off that assumption she made, she could ignore the fact that it made her anxiety get even worse…

“Now…” She started drumming her fingers on her elbow. “I know what sex is. I know how it works. I’ve…I’ve killed men at the bordello while they were still going at it. On several occasions, actually, because it’s laughably common for guys who owe ridiculous amounts of money. In other words, I get the idea.”

He nodded quickly, his face still a smidge flushed.

“I suppose, then…” The mercenary avoided looking at him as her tone began to sink. Her hands wrapped around her ribs and she tucked in her knees until she was sitting on her feet. “I guess when I say I don’t know how sex works, I mean more…”

She paused. She couldn’t find the word she was looking for, and wondered if maybe he had a few in mind; you’re supposed to finish each other’s sentences if you’re in love, right? His eyes were open and alert, though his brow was not furrowed and his lips weren’t pursed. Smile was gone, all that was left of his blush was the slight nip of frost from the chilly air in their bedroom. Byleth had known him to be high strung and fussing about everything, but there he was looking…well…maybe just curious?

Rolling to press up her knees against his, she reluctantly admitted, “I don’t know how sex works socially.”

“Socially…” Seteth repeated to himself in a flat monotone.

“Y-Yeah,” Byleth confirmed. “Socially.”

Maybe if she stretched out her legs and let herself sit in a more natural position, she would not feel as tense? So she did. For good measure, she rolled her ankles and curled her feet and toes to relax them.

“Uh…” She put her hands in her lap. “I guess I’m just confused in a sense of…how does it actually…start?”

The queen turned to her consort, her eyes searching for approval for her question, even if it still was a rather naive one. “Like…do we just start kissing and then it just…leads to it? Do we order each other around while we do it? Or…are we supposed to talk this out like arbitrators before we even start? I…I just have no idea. Nobody’s ever given me a straight answer,”

The prince nodded. “No one has given you a definitive answer because there is no one ‘correct’ way to do it. Couples usually have their own rules for their relationship, and those rules usually change as the relationship gets closer and intimate.”

Byleth wanted to frown. This was starting to sound like a lecture by a priest: she came to them looking for a definitive answer, and all she got were coy responses because the priest wanted her to form her own conclusion. When she wanted some damn answers...

Seteth snickered as he watched her face, his cheeks turning ever so slightly pink, “Dearest? May I ask you something?”

Byleth hummed, shrugging her shoulders, “Well, you already asked me something when you asked if you could ask me something…”

“Fair enough,” He covertly rolled his eyes while shaking his head. “Anyway…”

“Would you like to sit in my lap?”

She yelped, her fingertips covered her blush.

“You don’t have to, if you would rather not,” He spoke with chuckles occasionally interrupting. “We ought to face each other properly as we discuss this very important matter, but…I would also like to hold you, in the process…”

Oh. Well, gee. When he put it that way…

The prince consort uncurled his arm from its resting place, and he pushed himself up. Once he was properly sitting, he gave his thighs a gentle pat. She couldn’t help but squeak, just a little, sounding like a mouse scurrying away from a cat. Despite her nervousness, she lifted her knee and rested it next to his hip, and pulled her own hips over until she could sit atop his thighs. Instinctively, she bounced gently in his lap, her intentions being to try and find a spot that wouldn’t crush him or otherwise cause him discomfort, but once she realized how it really looked, she blushed all over again. Thankfully, he either did not notice, or chose to ignore it. Wearing a content smile, and he was quick to wrap his hands around her waist, keeping her nice and steady. The embarrassment faded from the queen’s cheeks, and though she put one hand in her lap, her other hand moved to clasp his shoulder. He stared down at her with the same love in his eyes, but with a firm seriousness. She could only hope that he felt as held as she did…

“No, it’s not strange at all to be nervous. It’s normal, daresay…” He gazed into her eyes as he scratched the groove in her back. “It…it requires vulnerability, and while vulnerability is not a bad thing, it can be incredibly dangerous, if not handled properly…”

Byleth nodded with a solemn frown. The word “vulnerable” was a dirty, terrible word, as it made her instinct kick in and made her fear that she left a weak spot open.

Seteth hummed. He dragged his knuckles up her back until he could rest his fingers on her shoulder blade. “Yes, my dear, I know. I too hate being vulnerable more than anything else in the world, as you are very well aware…”

She cracked a more genuine smile. Perhaps she was finally starting to lose her ability to mask her emotions at all times.

“You are aware of how much I still don’t understand about this new, modern world…” On cue, his Nabatean accent was coming out more and more as he spoke. He had a delightful lilt, his pronunciations and tones matched no one else she had ever met. Hearing him speak made it clearer that Fódlan’s modern language wasn’t his mother tongue, and instead spoke a language that all but disappeared.

“And I should mention…” He swallowed, his tone as solemn as ever. “There is this one attitude about…about it. It’s an attitude I despise the most about modern-day Fódlan…”

“Oh?” Byleth snickered. Was he really about to talk about politics and policy making and other regal duties in an effort to calm her down? Or was he going to ramble on about how kids these days were doing all kinds of crazy sex stuff and he wanted them to be more like kids from his day, who never, ever had sex? She turned her head and asked, “Just what would that be?”

“Glad you asked,” Seteth crooned, already wearing a smile that matched hers. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, the same kind he did when he was about to give a kid one hell of a lecture. When he opened them again, he said, in such a no-nonsense manner that it took her a good five seconds to register, “The modern-day people of Fódlan are far too conservative about sex for my liking.”

Byleth blinked, sitting up straight as she stared down at him with parted lips. “Too…conservative?”

“Yes.” His tone was as serious as ever. “It’s all wrong. People here repress their sexual feelings so deep down that I fear it is causing unprecedented societal rot, and if we leave it unchecked, it can and will ruin us worse than any war ever could.”

She had this funny feeling like her brain was starting to get too big for her skull. If she wanted to speak, she couldn’t find the words.

“But alas,” Seteth frowned, “I believe that, out of all the gifts Sothis has given us, humanity has corrupted this one the most. People today act as though it is the end-all-be-all to life. That you aren’t even a proper adult unless you’ve had it. No, it was never supposed to be a transition to adulthood or maturity, it was created for those who are already firmly adults. Adults in love.”

He pressed his lips and shook his head in disgust. “And that’s not to mention that the majority of people teasing others over virginity and inexperience, also believe that…that consummation is fundamentally a violent act. That one person, usually the giver, is the one deriving all the pleasure, and that the receiver is the one that is merely tolerating it for the giver’s sake, even if that involves pain or, Goddess forbid, physical injury…”

Byleth nodded solemnly. A decent chunk of her mercenary hunts involved getting revenge on chumps with such attitudes. As a child, she would be confused as to why her mercenary group would hunt down one bastard who thought like this, but then they would head to a tavern or bar that hadn’t heard of their reputation, and her father’s guys would go on to parrot the same things, or even perform the same things, as the person they just killed. Jeralt obviously did not entertain such talk and much less such actions, and yet, if he was not there…

She found herself wrapping her arms around his middle, and she noticed that she sank into his lap more naturally. At least now her shoulders weren’t as stiff.

He glanced down at his lap with misty eyes. Inadvertently, he mimicked her by dragging his fingers from the back of her head down her hair, through the groove in her spine, and finally settling on the small of her back. His other hand stayed on her cheek, and she was a little grateful for that. “I think everything about that attitude is horrific…more frightening than anything else I’ve ever seen…”

“Yeah?” Byleth murmured, leaning her head so that she could rest in his palm.

“Yeah…” Seteth’s voice cracked as he nodded quickly. “It was supposed to be something so beautiful and holy. And now, it’s become nothing but a status symbol: being on top means you dominate, and the more people you dominate, the more successful you are…I truly think that this belief…that it blasphemes original intentions. Which was, well…for both parties to affirm their love, and mutually benefit…”

Byleth, being a woman, largely knew all of this already, even if she couldn’t properly put these feelings into words. Her heart, while still, grew a little sore. Some part of her wanted to cling onto him and bury her face in the crook of his neck, but she ultimately decided against it. Otherwise, they both might have started to cry…

Hmm. On one hand, his mini speech reassured her greatly that she was with someone who respected her and that there was no need to be afraid or worried like she was. On the other hand? Yes, what is on the other hand? Her anxiety still hadn’t fully disappeared…

She started to twiddle her thumbs and her voice was meek. “Uh…I don’t…maybe it’s…I’m not worried you’re just going to dominate me. Not…not necessarily…”

Seteth reached up and squeezed her cheek. Caressing her cheekbone like he was wiping away tears. Her fingers caressed his knuckles as she closed her eyes.

“I guess it’s more like…uhhh…” Byleth tried to calm herself by tracing the veins in his wrist with her fingertips. His pulse was so slow and steady, skipping gently as she looked down at him and smiled. “I fear that you’ll start doing something that’s a normal part of sex, but I won’t recognize it, and I’ll throw the whole thing off…”

Her right hand man raised a brow as he pursed his lips. “...normal part?”

“Yeah…” She admitted with a twinge of humiliation. “You know how I miscommunicate all the time and have an incomplete understanding of social rules. So, since I haven’t…haven’t…”

“I…” He cocked his head. “I don’t think I understand what you mean by ‘normal part’...?”

“Well…I don’t know, either.” The queen slumped her shoulders. “Because I don’t know what I’m missing.”

Raising her free hand, she rolled her wrist as she tried to explain, “Imagine if you took me by the hand and tried to escort me to the ballroom floor, but I stayed put with my feet glued to the floor because I didn’t know that’s what you do when you’re asked for a dance,”

His eyes opened wide and his lip quivered. “Wait…you don’t mean that you think there’s some kind of step-by-step method to all this, like a waltz, do you?”

Now she was confused. There wasn’t a formula, or a specific pattern that two people complete to initiate sex? Of course there was, otherwise, how would it work at all?

“Ummm…I suppose each person and each couple do it in their own style, but…yes?” She scratched the top of her head. “Like, you know, you’re supposed to start a waltz by putting your hand on each other’s hips, so maybe you start…start it by kissing and making-out, and then you…”

He grumbled under his breath. She would have brushed it off as a vocal tic, if he didn’t gently shake his head with a click of the tongue. Oh no.

“Like a waltz? A dance?” Seteth asked incredulously. “No, no, that’s all wrong. I don’t know where you would come to that conclusion…”

Damn. She was reminded of that one conversation the two of them had all those years ago, where he interrogated her about her entire life, she could not answer a single question, and he very rudely asked what Jeralt was thinking by raising her like this. Hmph. Oh, this better not be the same attitude coming back from the dead, mister…

He rested his hands on her elbows and quickly but lightly rubbed her upper arm. “This is much the same as what I was discussing with you, earlier. I’m sure you don’t mean it, but again, this damned modern society will always insist that there is only one ‘way’, or one set of instructions, to do absolutely anything, and this is certainly not an exception. Oh, is nothing sacred these days?”

She “H-Huh?”

“Dearest, just who is putting all of these outlandish ideas in your head and scaring you half to death?”

Byleth didn't have an answer, and not just because the question caught her off-guard.

“Oh, I would bet it was Manuela, wasn’t it? Listen, I will always love her, but the only romances she’s known are from her operas. No, wait, she wouldn’t be this specific, she probably likes spontaneity. In that case, it’s probably Sylvain, isn’t it? Oh, that chauvinistic pig is probably going around telling all the young ladies in Fódlan this kind of tripe so that the girls won’t know what they’re missing. Then again, I certainly would have heard about it by now if he was, wouldn’t I? Hmm, could it have been Hilda, then? Nice girl with a bright future, but I can’t help but wonder if she is the exact kind of person who would uphold traditional gender roles for her own benefit…”

Byleth knew it was mean, but the longer he went on spilling his thoughts on her students and co-workers, the more teeth her smile showed.

“It was Bernadetta who told me this, actually.” She said with a straight face.

“What?! Bernadetta?” He leaned back in surprise. “Well. I certainly would not have suspected her to tell you this to your face, but I suppose she, too, reads a lot of problematic romance novels in her spare time and does not have much actual experience in the real romantic world, if at all. If you’re comfortable, I think I would like to have a serious talk with her abou-”

Tears threatened to stream down Byleth’s face as she tried, and failed, to stifle a flurry of giggles.

“...what? Hey!” He whined, a strained smile etching on his face. Clearly he didn’t want to, but he was chuckling with her.

“You…you threw her right under the carriage, man!” Byleth howled, bowing her head and squeezing his shoulders.

“No, you threw her under the carriage by bringing her up in the first place.” Seteth snickered, and he ever so gently pushed her shoulder half an inch.

She couldn’t tease him for too long, because she didn’t like actually hurting his feelings. With a wide smile, the mercenary professor buried her face in the crook of her advisor’s neck, her giggles muffled against his bathrobe. His arms wrapped around her middle, groaning with a smile. He was so warm, and his pajamas were so soft and delicate. The smell of lye and pine needles had become so comforting to her. Two things so ordinary and common, that almost everyone she knew used, now seemed elegant and distinguished, all because dearest Seteth was using them, too. Maybe he just had a way of making and utilizing soap that left her feeling like she was at a campfire without the cold, hard ground. If only she could tell him this without feeling like a troubadour wrote her words for her…

“Sooooo…” Byleth moved her chin so that they could face each other as they continued their conversation. “Nobody’s ‘told’ me that sex has to follow a specific pattern…”

Reaching up, the queen pressed her hand against his collarbone. She could feel his pulse under her fingertips. “I guess it’s that…I want there to be some kind of secret set of instructions I could just follow to a tee. I’m good at following orders and I’m great at following rules that were very specifically laid out for me.”

He didn’t say anything, though he did rest his cheek against the part in her hair. Hmph. She moved her head for nothing, huh?

“And I’m not too bad at improvising…in the middle of things. When it’s to correct minor flaws or hiccups in a plan.” She further explained, though she noticed her tone was starting to sound like she was giving a stock answer in a job interview: she had to explain her weaknesses but spin them around into something positive. Did she sound hokey? Or worse, defensive? Digging her own grave, the mercenary finished her thought, “But when I’m expected to improvise the whole way through, that’s when I…fumble.”

The dragon hummed. He reached up to rub his beard, yet managed to wrap his arm around her back that still made her feel like she was being cradled. Can all dads do that? Maybe not, considering it had to have been many years since he last held a baby…and there she was, distracting herself from the task at hand, again.

“I hope…” Byleth dropped her shoulders but squeezed his shoulder. “I hope that…that’s…okay? As in…I hope that it’s…not a turn-off?”

Ugh. Awful. She sounded like one of her students trying to bullshit their way into getting extra time for their essay while not getting penalized for turning it in late. Oh, he’s definitely going to just get under the covers and go to bed, sorely disappointed…

“Not at all.” Seteth responded quicker than she expected. And he never sounded more reassured or confident in his answer.

“Not at all?” She pulled her head back, trying not to knock out his teeth as she did.

Once again, that silly, smug, couldn’t-care-less smile was back. Half-lidded eyes that were completely, hopelessly smitten. And he repeated with a sense of finality she only heard him use when passing legislation, “Not at all. In fact, I’m rather grateful and humbled that you’re telling me this, beforehand. It’s absolutely a good sign about your character, my love.”

Ah. He’s saying that because she can do no wrong in his eyes. She’s murdered people, she’s lied to get her way, she’s gained people’s trust and she threw it all away, and she regularly put kids in danger, but she’s still somehow the absolute perfect bride for him. Any flaw she’ll ever have can be twisted into something positive. Now there’s a man who knows how to play the bureaucratic, corporate, clerical game.

“It…” He clenched his eyes shut and opened them again. “Sex...requires lots of communication, if we want to have it correctly. Before, during, and after…”

He lifted her chin with his knuckles, resting his thumb against her jawline. Gave it a brief caress. It was possible he secretly enjoyed the awed expression she was wearing. “I know how much you prefer to discuss plans before executing them, and how anxious you get when you can’t detail, or you expect to be ambushed. Truly, we should have discussed the matter a very long time ago…I do apologize.” He began.

She was quiet. Would she finally admit to herself that she left the mercenary life an anxious little mess? Maybe she would, someday…

“I’m not naive, dear.” He winced with a smile. “I…I know that most couples these days go to bed long before the wedding. And in recent years, earlier than betrothal. Throughout our engagement, I admit that some of my apprehension from displaying any public affection with you was perhaps a little too over-protective-”

She pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. “And I told you, I didn’t mind waiting.”

He gave her a relieved grin, but a curt nod. “Yes, and I do appreciate the fact that you never tried to goad me into it, anyway. However…”

Seteth rolled his shoulders against the pillows as he tried to get more comfy, “There is another, perhaps more pressing reason than what the Holy Texts describe…”

“What? More pressing than the…ooh, this is going to be good,” The professor grinned down at him devilishly.

“Much of my reluctance stemmed from…er…fears of getting caught in the middle of things and it eventually leading into some kind of political scandal,”

“Ah.” Byleth nodded. “What, like that you’re seducing me so that I pass legislation that will benefit the Church?”

“I think the headlines would be a mite more misogynistic than that,” Seteth smiled sadly. “But yes, I wanted to avoid hampering our own political plans by acting foolishly.”

“It’s…it’s okay.” Byleth put her hand on his thigh. It didn’t completely reprieve her of her anxieties, but at least now she was sure that she was safe. “At least…at least we’re talking about it now?”

“I suppose,” He agreed with a somber shrug. “But regardless, let me take a moment to correct my negligence, and let’s have a discussion about this, shall we?”

“Uh…yeah.” The queen gave him a cautiously optimistic smile. “Let’s…shall?”

“‘Let’s’ is a contraction for ‘let us’, dearest.” Seteth nuzzled her forehead. “‘Let us shall’ doesn’t make any grammatical sense.”

“I will shall pay more attention to my grammar, then.” Byleth kissed his nose.

“Silly girl,” Seteth chided, but he moved to kiss her cheek.

“Do let me indulge a little bit in nostalgia?” He asked as he draped some of the covers over her thighs. “I want to tell you something I learned when I was still a young man,”

She simpered, giving him a gentle nod. “I do love it when you tell me about life in Zanado…”

“Wonderful.” He grinned. “This particular shaggy dog may sound a little strange, but please do bear with me, because it is relevant…”

“Great. I love it when stories are relevant to the topic we’re discussing.”

“Hush.” He rolled his eyes with a smile. “Anyway, I want to tell you a trick that a baker taught me when I was a young man attempting to sort out my lot in life. It’s called…burning the first batch.”

“Burning the first batch?” Byleth raised a brow and folded her arms. “Intriguing. And I’m wondering as to how it relates to communication during sex. I’d love to hear it.”

Like he always did when she welcomed a story about the Nabateans, he beamed widely, and she could peer in his eyes and see them well up with pride and nostalgia. Listening to him made her feel like he was talking about family members who had passed away decades before she was born.

“It was explained to me like this,” Seteth began, caressing her temples and brushing imagined hair out of her face. “Back in the day, we only had fire pits to cook our food. We couldn’t quite control cooking temperatures as precisely as ovens and stoves can do, today. Of course, we had techniques on starting and controlling the fire, which kindling to use, which apparatuses, and so on, but it took a lot of skill to cook what you would now consider a simple meal.”

“I can imagine,” Byleth folded her hands over her chest.

“Yes, it was difficult, and yet, food tasted so much better, then.” He smiled serenely, resting his hand behind her ear. “Anyway, there was a trick you could use to garner just how hot your oven was. It’s simple enough,”

He lifted his free hand, making a pinching motion. “You just take a small sample of whatever it is you wish to make, put that in the oven for however long you’re supposed to bake it for, and see what happens.”

Byleth nodded against him, an amused smile on her face and an even more amused laugh trying to escape. “Smart idea. Though it seems like that could only really work for stuff like pastries or cookies, and not for bigger things like cakes.”

“Yes, admittedly it was only a good rule for smaller items,” He put his hand on her elbow.

“So cakes and pies must have been made by experienced chefs, for special occasions…” She nodded like she was in an anthropology lecture.

“Exactly. They were.” Seteth’s eyes got a little shiny. “Thank you for noticing. Nonetheless, for inexperienced chefs, in my case, a kid with too many ideas on who he wanted to be, it was a rule of thumb for baked goods. It ensured that if I prepared the oven incorrectly, at least only one morsel would be ruined instead of an entire tray.”

Since she was so smart, and she was so intuitive, she had an inkling as to why he chose to tell her this particular story. And it made perfect sense…

She raised a brow, cocking her head to the side, smirk intact. “Wait…you’re not comparing me to cookies, are you?”

“What?” He turned, mimicking her facial expression. “No? It sounds like you’re accusing me of something…”

“I’m just saying,” She shrugged, grinning so widely her teeth were showing. Reaching up to wag her finger and tap his nose in the process, she chided in a sing-song, “I would just feel quite cheated if I found out on the night of our wedding that you believe women are like cookies and only their husbands should eat them or some tripe like that.”

“I thought that men like that compare you to lollies, not cookies?” He asked incredulously. Neither of them could put up the “I’m totally mad at you” act for long: they both cracked up and giggled under their breaths. “No, this isn’t meant to be a misogynistic metaphor; it’s just a plain old metaphor. I respect women.”

“Ah.” Byleth nodded. “Good, that’s good to hear. Please do go on. Sorry for interrupting…”

“Thank you. I will go on.” Seteth cleared his throat as he rubbed his chin. “Where was I?”

Goddess above, Byleth, you have got to stop making stupid jokes like that when you’re nervous. He probably didn’t even know you were joking, this time!

Shut up, brain. You don’t know what you’re talking about. He loves them.

“Oh, that’s right.” Shifting slightly as he sat, he returned to grooming and caressing his new wife as he tried to explain his line of thinking.

“What I’m trying to say is that…uh…” He found it difficult to look her in the eye as his cheeks were dusted pink. His left hand swirled in the air as he spoke and waxed philosophic, “To repeat one last time, there is an unfair amount of pressure on the wedding night, and to some extent just…The First Time…in general…to be absolutely perfect, romantic, and flawless. That if something goes wrong, then the relationship is doomed to fail or that one of us wasn’t trying…”

Byleth’s smile had gradually faded. She was right.

Her husband glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want you to think that I believe that…”

“No, you don’t think I’m your cookie,” She giggled. Once she said that out loud, she winced and squeezed the bridge of her nose with a groan. “Ugh, that sounded better in my head.”

“So…with my oven metaphor,” He started to speak from his stomach with a wide grin. “I’m trying to say that…that…uh…” He paused for a moment before chuckling, closing his eyes and pinching his brow. “Damn it all, what am I trying to say?”

Byleth tried not to gasp, since that was the first time she heard him swear. She clammed up when she remembered, if everything went well tonight, he might say even worse words…

“We should just let things come to us, naturally. Get to know each other’s body, explore together what we both like and dislike. If it goes well, then great, but if it doesn’t, we’ll just try again another night, with the knowledge and foresight we learned tonight. We’ll treat this night like it’s…the first batch to go in the oven? So to speak?”

Her face was blank. She moved to hold each elbow as she glanced away.

He grimaced, resting his head against the bed frame. “I’m so sorry, my sweet. That metaphor is sappy. Even if I were publishing a pulp romance novel, the editor would tell me to tone it down…”

“No, it’s fine…” Byleth shook her head, her tone monotonous and flat. If she had to guess what she normally sounded like to the people around her, that would be it. “It…uh…is actually quite reassuring…”

“Oh, yeah?” Seteth smiled in relief.

“Yeah…” She threaded her fingers together and let them rest on her stomach. “I’m glad that you’re suggesting we can take tonight however we want, and there aren’t any expectations. None besides enjoying each other’s…company.”

The man bowed his head with his heart over his chest. “Indeed. That is what I hoped you would glean from that story…”

She tapped her chin methodically, like she was looking over battle plans. “Forgive me if I’m reaching a little, but could I also interpret from your story that…you’re kinda nervous, too?”

A hushed gasp left his lips as he grimaced a second time. He tried to protest, he tried to speak up, he even tried to deny it, but all that came out of his mouth were flustered stammers and shakes of his head. Eventually, he closed his eyes and groaned under his breath, wearing a defeated smile. “...yes.”

“Really?” She put her hands over her heart and grinned so widely that her cheeks would get sore if she tried to pull them back.

“You got me.” Her husband was trying his best to look cool and collected and he just couldn’t do it. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but I am a fair bit older than you are. And, to be brutally honest, I have not been with…anyone…in…oh, let’s just say, several years. Some part of me worries that I’ve lost any edge I had when I was a younger man…”

Byleth shrugged with a carefree smile. “I mean, you spent quite some time reassuring me that you don’t have to have any experience to have edge. Would be kinda hypocritical of me to expect you to know exactly what to do, huh?”

“I suppose so, yes,” He agreed, nodding along. Considering he was looking down at his lap and wearing a nervous frown, she had doubts he was reassured. Therefore, she placed both hands on his shoulder, or rather, closer to where his neck began, and squeezed him. Gently, but for a while. He glanced up at her with tired eyes, a smile almost on his lips, but not quite. She smiled back.

Her throat became very dry in the span of a second, but she pushed through, so she could get in so close that she could smell his shampoo, while still being too far to brush against his ear. She ignored the anxiety and made it disappear from her middle, and she whispered to him, “I’m…sure you still have muscle memory…”

His facial expression didn’t change. Not really. Why, he hardly moved, save for a twitch of the ear. Cracking a tiny grin, she clarified, “Or, at least…you certainly have muscles…”

He didn’t react. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning. He only stared at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Ah. Too far?” She snickered nervously, a slight pang of guilt in her stomach.

That’s when he craned his neck and lifted his chin. Getting close enough to her ear while still being too far to kiss it, he gave her a dangerous little smirk as he mumbled, “And you absolutely have edge,”

Her skin prickled. A bolt of lightning traveled down her spine.

“All you need to do is discover your particular style. Once you find your niche, you will run laps around me…”

Byleth blushed. Blushed enough that her cheeks stung a little when she stopped smiling. Seteth made this prediction so confidently that she somehow already felt like a goddess.

Seteth blushed, too. His crow’s feet and laugh lines were the only wrinkles left on his face. He looked more than relaxed, he looked at peace.

“Maybe we should…talk about it?” The queen touched her own cheek, somewhat tempted to hide her goofy smile.

“Yes, perhaps we should…” The prince was smiling so wide that his molars were showing, but alas, he found it difficult to look her in the eye. “We certainly have spent a lot of time talking about how we’re going to talk about it…”

“Mmm. Yes…” Her other hand pressed against her chest as she cleared her throat.

“Yes...” He lifted his chin as she shook his head as he pulled his hair behind his ear. Fluffing it up like he just got out of the shower.

The two of them did not speak a word. He waited for her, assuming that she would like to take the lead, and to have the final say on anything they did. It took her too long to realize he was letting her be in charge for once, and thus, she sat for far too long waiting for him to speak first. She sputtered to herself and hugged her middle as embarrassment flooded over her. Damn, she made it awkward. Again.

He reached up to place his fingertips on her elbows, then slid his little finger down her forearm, over her wrist, and over her knuckles. Cupping his hands, he scooped hers off her arms and made her fingers rest in his palms. His thumb rocked side to side on the back of her hand.

Perhaps this would be less nerve-wracking if she weren’t still sitting in his lap. Light hums slipped out her throat as she lifted her hips up and gingerly moved her knees away. As she was settling down, opting to sit on her ankles. He twisted his body so that he could copy her, sitting on his ankles and facing her properly. Somehow, they managed to hold hands the entire time and didn’t even notice.

“Is there anything that’s an absolute no-go?” He moved their wrists so that they could rest on their respective thighs. Like the start of some kind of blood pact. “Is there anything you have that you already know for a fact turns you off?”

Hmm. Good question. What did she like, and what would she like done to her? A better question: would she manage to be able to say words such as ‘kink’ or ‘foreplay’ to him without sputtering and turning deep red?

“Don’t…” She lifted her chin as the words gathered in her mouth. “Please don’t, I should say…”

To release the tension, she shut her eyes as tight as she could for a second or two before opening back up.

“I…don’t like sudden movements, as you know…”

He nodded. “I do, yes…”

“Good.” She grinned. “Now I know that you know.”

“Yes, yes you do.” He agreed.

“Yeah…” She threw her hair out of her face, seeing as though her hands were occupied. “Please don’t do anything without letting me know in advance. I don’t mean stuff like…giving me a kiss, or…putting your hands on my thigh or anything like that. I mean more like…don’t try to do something completely new without asking. Especially when it comes to…er…”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “...fantasies? Is that the right word to use?”

He bowed his head with a wide smile. “That’s merely common courtesy.”

“Really?” She blushed, turning her head away. Glancing back at him through the corner of her eye, she mumbled to get the words out, “Good…I…I’m…that makes me feel better…”

“And may I add,” Seteth spoke in that same gentle tone he had with his miniature lecture. “You can also withdraw your consent at any time, for any action I try to undertake. Even if you liked it earlier, or even if we’re in the middle of things. If you want it to stop, you absolutely have the right to end it. I won’t be disappointed or try to persuade you. I will always value your trust and safety far more than my own bodily pleasure.”

Seteth gave a peck to her cheek. There. Now he signed his half of the contract.

“And…what about you?” Byleth leaned back. “What’s an…absolute no-go to you?”

It made him chuckle. Now it was his turn to wriggle and find it difficult to speak. The dragon gently squeezed her hands as he bit his smile.

“Well…” Seteth took in a deep breath before he clarified to her. “I…dislike name calling.”

That confused her a little. In her mind, “name calling” meant petty bullying typical of children on the playground. Naturally, she wondered why he would feel a need to clarify that that kind of behavior turned him off. She cocked her head and asked, “Name…calling?”

“You know…” He bit his cheek. “Harsh words meant to belittle the other person…”

“Oh,” Her face lightened. “You mean…you mean degradation…”

“That’s the word I was looking for…” He nodded. “Saying degrading things.”

He groaned with a smile before he apologetically chuckled. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn he was scooting closer to her. “Look, I certainly understand where people are coming from when they say they like it. I’m not calling them secret sadists or anything. It’s just that…well…I…”

Byleth knew he was serious when he stopped smiling. His eyes flickered back and forth, meeting hers for fractions of a second. “I could never imagine saying cruel things to you, no matter what obstacle we could face during our marriage. You are my wife, my partner. My love.”

She cooed, her hand touching her chest. “Oh, sweetheart…”

“I know,” He shook his head as he forced out a laugh. “I know it sounds so syrupy, and I know that this whole ‘degradation’ fantasy is ultimately just playing a role and it isn’t serious. All the same, it’s true. I can’t bear the thought of insulting you, or treating you like you mean nothing to me…”

He had begun to roll his shoulders like he had some stubborn crick in his neck. “And…well…I cannot stomach being treated like that, in return…”

Laughing at his own sensitivity, he allowed himself to slouch. “It…well…I know it really shouldn’t, since I know it’s just for play, but ultimately, such words end up hurting my feelings…”

His tone was so sincere, and he sounded just so worried and concerned…that was her Seteth, all right! Poor thing, he was totally choked up over the thought. He was so utterly adorable and he had no idea. She couldn’t deny that when he was heartfelt and gentle in this manner, it made her feel just all warm and fuzzy. Wasting no time, she threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a peck on the cheek, in the same spot he just did for her. Now her name was on the pact…

“You won’t ever have to worry about that, Cichol.”

Cichol gasped, and through the corner of her eye, she could see his blush crawling up to his pointy ear. He hummed, wrapping his arms around her middle and threading one hand in her hair, he nuzzled his forehead against hers, beaming.

“Only the finest praises for you. A-And your performance…” The professor grinned. “Because I can’t bear to see you doubting yourself,”

“Oh. Then maybe you ought to annul this marriage first thing tomorrow morning. Otherwise, you will be seeing that a lot,”

“Never,” She crooned, running her fingers along his beard. “You’re just going to have to change yourself for me.”

“Okay.” He smiled. “That’s healthy.”

They laughed quietly, almost under their breaths. They let the room become still, allowing the wind to make the curtains sway and let the draft in. It was okay, neither of them minded, for they were both warm.

“Then, is that tonight’s theme?” She asked as she pressed her widow’s peak against his own. “We will only proceed with enthusiastic consent, and give each other nothing but the greatest of praises?”

The saint nodded against her forehead with a happy little purr. He pushed the back of his head far into the pillows so he could meet her in the eye and confirm, “That sounds divine.”

“It sounds like our vows, honestly.” Byleth smirked as she bounced her shoulders in delight.

“It does, you’re right,” Seteth chuckled. “Then surely it is fated to be…”

She rested her hands on either side of his face. “...for whatever centuries may yet be ours?”

He grinned wide enough to show his canines, and rested his hands on her face, in turn. “For whatever centuries may yet be ours.”

They kissed. They kissed deeply.

Ha ha ha, the fool…now the blood ritual was sealed! He could have run away and escaped before the wedding, but he followed her like a moth flies towards a candle. And just now, he had promised her his heart and soul! Now he could never get those back no matter how hard he tried! There was no escaping her grip! He was now property of the Queen of the United Kingdom of Fódlan! For the next few centuries, millennia if she were lucky, he was cursed to be smothered with hugs, cuddles, and kisses! All day, and every day! No rest! No reprieve!

Now…which one of them would go first?