Chapter Text
A wet, warm rain whipped at the closed window as Byleth hunched over her desk.
Nearly a year after Enbarr's fall, Byleth found herself heading the Church of Seiros. Her students had scattered to the wind in their post-war world, leaving her to rebuild what was to be, one again, the backbone of Fódlan.
Rhea had given her limited information in her infirmity and subsequent retirement. Byleth wasn’t sure if the woman still remained in her villa on the outskirts of Garreg Mach, but didn’t look to check. Byleth wasn’t a child, needing to seek out constant supervision and guidance. Seteth provided that in spades, supporting her when she often stumbled. Something always came up, never allowing for a slow day.
She tapped her quill on the page, savoring the last dregs of her cup of tea.
The quill skittered when a flutter radiated from her stomach outwards. A surprised hitch of breath escaped her mouth before she could check it.
“Are you alright?”
Byleth pursed her lips at the garish mark in her page before looking up at the man who sat across from her. Seteth watched her with piercing eyes.
“Perfectly fine,” she said. “A sudden chill is all. You were saying?”
Seteth nodded. “As you know, the Goddess's Rite of Rebirth is later this month. The week before, you are expected to speak to the followers of the Church. You are to stand on the balcony, while the people watch from the courtyard.”
Byleth couldn’t remember Rhea doing that, but at that point, she just followed along to what Seteth said. She wavered, remembering how Rhea had watched her from the same balcony when she first arrived at Garreg Mach.
She wasn’t exactly someone of many words. Giving lectures to her students drained her enough. She definitely didn't sign up to be Rhea’s successor in anticipation of speaking in front of thousands of people.
“This is the first Rite of Rebirth at Garreg Mach since the war,” Byleth murmured.
Seteth nodded. “Yes. We have called believers from across the continent to join us in celebration of the Church’s survival and of our victory against the Empire.”
Byleth swallowed. That only put more anxiety on her. Since the Enbarr fell, everything seemed to have more weight and more importance. Every holiday and ceremony had more pomp than what she remembered.
This time, instead as vaguely-confused observer, she facilitated those ceremonies as the Church’s leader. Now, they came upon most important of all, and all would judge her for her shortcomings.
Pushing that sudden anxiety from her mind, her eyes were drawn to the man sitting on the other side of her desk.
Seteth didn't wear the ring she gave him. Not that she expected him, since she all but threw it at him before the battle at Enbarr, heat around her ears and unwilling to hear any arguments from him about how inappropriate the gift was.
The incident had largely been forgotten by the final battle and the aftermath. She almost hoped that he would forget, but she also hoped that her gift at least made him happy. She didn't even know if the ring fit him. That was an oversight on her part. Maybe she could provide a chain so he could wear it around his neck? There was no way that she could give it to him without further embarrassing herself, but if it had to be done, it had to be done.
“Archbishop?”
Right. Meeting. Had to pay attention. That knowledge kept her from thinking too much into how Seteth wouldn’t use her name.
“Ah, yes. Will I be expected to prepare my own remarks?” she asked.
Seteth stared at her. “I—I could prepare a speech for you, if you desire.”
She shrugged, already imagining what kind of mess she would make if she wrote a speech by herself. “I could barely get through my statement after succeeding Rhea. I’ll buy that tea you like if it convinces you.”
Seteth crossed his arms over his chest. “Very well, but I must insist that you buy the tea from the shopkeeper Teller on the outskirts of Garreg Mach, not the merchant that comes from southern Fódlan.”
She couldn't help but roll her eyes. A small negotiation for a bribe, though uncharacteristically picky. “Deal, but may I ask why?”
“That merchant must cut the leaves with some cheap stuff,” he sniffed. “Teller is the only one I trust with my tea.”
Thinking back, she bought most of her tea from the southern merchant. She couldn’t tell any difference, if there were any impurities. Then again, if there was tea in front of her, she would drink it. If there was food in front of her, she would eat it. There was some pleasure in it, but she didn’t have any particular affinity to a flavor.
Clearly, Seteth had noticed the difference, every time they had tea together. She pulled out all the stops for him, but apparently, it wasn’t to his satisfaction.
“So, all the times we’ve had tea together, we’ve been using sub-par tea,” she said flatly. “You never thought to tell me?”
Seteth shifted in his chair. “I thought it would be rude to correct you. Besides, our tea time didn’t really need the perfect tea anyway.”
It shouldn’t have made her feel relieved, but it did. “So, the tea didn’t completely ruin the experience?”
“Not at all. But, if I am to host you for tea, Archbishop, I would only like to serve the best tea.”
“Oh? I thought this would be a gift for you, not for me.”
Now, they were both blushing. Utterly strange, since Byleth was sure that Seteth saw her only as a friend. Maybe she was embarrassing him, making him feel uncomfortable.
“I will enjoy some of it alone, but I like to share tea with those I am close to.”
She opened her mouth to mention that Flayn was a candidate for tea time, but she was en route to Almyra. Seteth worried aloud about her condition constantly, sending flurries of letters to check on her.
Flayn did her best to assuage Seteth’s fears, but the letters she sent Byleth made it clear that her father was making things more stressful than they were. She didn’t even dare tell Seteth her true reason for visiting Almyra to begin with.
Byleth kept her romance with Claude a secret. They needed the help of the former Alliance territories and it would do them no good if Seteth flew over and murdered their greatest representative for both Almyra and the Alliance.
“Very well, for your sake and mine, I will get some proper tea.”
“Surely you should send someone out to do this errand for you.”
Byleth paused, tilting her head in confusion. “Why not?”
“It would be dangerous for someone of your position.”
She supposed he had a point. While she was a professor at Garreg Mach, she could move freely, less so during the war. There had been a couple weeks between war’s end and her official appointment when she could visit where she wanted as normal, with the exception of the constant accolades for being a war hero.
Now, she was valuable. There was really no succession that she knew of if something happened to her. Seteth would be the most obvious.
Clearly, he wanted her alive to keep from assuming that kind of power. That always perplexed her. He was the obvious choice to be Rhea’s successor, but he was by her side instead.
“If you think my going alone is dangerous, you should come with me.”
“Fine.”
She sputtered, wide-eyed. “I didn't think you would actually accept.”
“Already regret it?” Seteth sniped back. His eyes glimmered with mirth, taking the bite away from his words.
“No. We could go between lunch and our afternoon meetings. Tuesday, perhaps?”
She already knew that she was going to be slammed with work and she was sure that there was a meeting that she couldn't remember. She didn't particularly care.
“Very well. I shall leave you to your paperwork.”
Byleth sighed comically. “Very well. I shall bear the burden, for both our sakes.”
Seteth rose from his chair and collected his papers. She tried not to stare too intensely at his form as he bowed in respect.
“Archbishop.”
She nodded back, lips quirking. She wasn’t going to tease him about his use of titles. It was out of respect, but it harkened back to a time when he would refer to her only as ‘Professor’ and always in such a disapproving and detached tone.
“My advisor.”
He shut the door with a click and she sagged in her seat.
Tuesday came with a mountain of paperwork.
Imperial sympathizers had been causing trouble, enough for the decision to fall on Byleth’s desk on whether or not she would authorize military action.
The thought turned her stomach. She fought war, but she never wanted to wage it. Edelgard was dead, but there were still those who believed in her message. She wished she could leave them be with their ideology, but people were dying on the outskirts of Enbarr. She wouldn’t be allowed to stand by idly.
It felt like a death knell as she sent the courier away with the signed orders. She could protect her students, even save them from imminent death. She couldn't do the same for the troops she was sending to fight.
She kissed babies and offered blessings, but with that same mouth and hands, she condemned people to death. Rhea seemed to do it with little guilt, but Byleth had her reservations.
After wolfing down a quick lunch, she walked to the monastery gates.
There were respectful bows and hushed whispers as she passed people in the halls. She wasn’t the outsider anymore, the mercenary turned professor, but she was still distinguished from everyone else: Ashen Demon, Archbishop, touched by the Goddess.
She suppressed a shiver as she stepped out from the entrance hall. It had been an uncharacteristically rainy summer. She pulled her woven cloak around herself and yanked the hood over her head.
“Good afternoon, gatekeeper.”
The man at the entrance straightened with a grin. “Good afternoon, milady! Nothing to report.”
Byleth hummed. “It’s nice to not always be on guard, isn’t it?”
She slept through the first five years of the war. She couldn't imagine what it was like for him to watch everything crumble around him and be forced to flee for his life. Despite everything, he had returned to his post. Byleth wasn’t so sure that she would have the same conviction if she were in his position.
He shrugged. “I try to stay on guard, no matter what. We aren’t completely safe just because the war is over.”
She felt the weight of her dagger and sword on her hips and knew that there was truth in his words.
The merchants eyed her greedily in the little marketplace, clearly expecting her to approach. She felt some remorse that she wouldn’t be providing them her business, but she knew that there would be many days to come that she would visit their stalls.
She heard the clanging of armor before she saw it. Fear and anticipation clutched at her throat as she turned towards the sound, only to relax. Seteth approached in his usual dark-blue coat, the only change the grey cloak pinned at his throat. Behind him, six knights filed in.
“Archbishop.”
She couldn't help but smile.
“Seteth. Punctual as always. Is this our escort?”
“Yes. They will be guarding us on our walk to the shop.”
Byleth tilted her head, regarding the armored figures and then out towards the outer gates. “Since you were so concerned about my safety, I was expecting a carriage, to be honest.”
Seteth pulled his hood over his head, unsuccessfully hiding a smile. “Which you would have refused, so I did not bother. Shall we?”
He wasn’t wrong. He really did know her well. Mentally cheering herself for wearing durable boots, they started down the road with their guard in tow.
They walked side by side. The roads were still drying from the earlier rains, mud flecking their boots.
“Have you received the report on Coronth?”
Byleth’s mouth twisted. “Yes. I already authorized that we send some soldiers to guard the city. I know Rhea would have been harsher, but I—I don’t think I could do it.”
Rhea would have ordered the full force of the Church to come down on whatever camps lay outside of the city limits. She probably would have had the forests burned to smoke them out.
“I understand that Rhea’s methods are harsh," he allowed.
“We were the ones to put down these skirmishes, before the war. I wonder if the war would have happened if we let those who disagreed with the church just be.”
Seteth’s jaw clenched. “The Empire would have seen that as weakness, perhaps hastening the war.”
Byleth nodded, glancing away from him. He led the church in the five years that Rhea was missing and Byleth was in that ravine. He had little love for the Empire, if any at all. She wondered, if he were in her position, would he have been just as harsh with the Imperial sympathizers as Rhea?
Now, she was sickened by war, though it had formed the backbone of most of her life.
Looking to Seteth almost made that disgust clearer. She watched him die too many times at the hands of the Empire, only for it to be wiped away from history. Bile rose to her throat at the thought: arrows in his chest, an ax cleaved through his shoulder, his unconscious form tumbling from his wyvern to hit the ground with a sickening thud. All undone, but she remembered.
Every member of her class had fallen in similar ways, only to be undone. She couldn’t go through that again. She couldn’t.
“They are in capable hands. The townspeople are friendly to the Church. They have a well-kept shrine there.”
It didn’t bring as much reassurance as she was sure Seteth intended. Hidden blades and repressed bitterness still remained, easily unleashed on those unsuspecting.
The conversation ended as soon as they approached the town. This was no place to talk about internal business out in the open.
Just as in the monastery, they immediately drew the eyes of the people milling about. Those milling about parted in front of the two guards that lead the little parade, looking to see who of note graced the town.
“It's the Archbishop!”
“May your reign be prosperous!”
“Our liberator!”
Byleth looked to the patched-up and still-damaged buildings. She wasn’t sure how much of a liberator she was. This happened because of her failure. If she hadn’t fallen, if she had checked Edelgard when she had the chance, years of suffering could have been avoided. Despite the rough patches in some buildings, it seemed like it was business as usual.
They continued on and the guards tightened their formation. They didn’t reach for their weapons, but Byleth knew that they were looking to the terraces and into the crowd.
Her eyes scanned the crowd and fell on a young woman with a bundle tucked close to her chest. A tiny hand stuck out from the fabric, reaching up towards the woman's face.
Something clutched at her chest, making her falter. Was this longing, for something she never got to have? She didn’t get to be a child in her mother's arms. Or, was it something deeper than that?
Seteth caught her sleeve, turning his head to follow her gaze. She jerked away, looking up at him to see his throat bob as he swallowed.
“Archbishop, we shouldn’t linger.”
“Of course,” Byleth replied.
The mother had eyes only for her child, as if the spectacle mere feet from her didn't exist. Byleth sighed and that strange feeling lingered as they continued down the road.
“We are close,” Seteth murmured.
For a moment, she had forgotten why they had left the monastery. She blinked blankly at the stone road and up to Seteth, who stared forward as her guide. Tea and a favor, of course. Her coin purse was heavy in her pocket. She knew how much the merchant in the courtyard charged for Seteth’s preferred kind of tea, but had no idea how much this new merchant sold it.
She just grabbed a couple handfuls of gold coins and hoped that it would be enough.
“The guy’s name is Teller, right?” Byleth whispered.
“Yes. His shop is just down this street.”
The two guards in front stopped at a shop. The storefront was freshly painted and the windows were clean. It was as if the war had completely spared it.
Planters hung in front of the windowsills, full of bright flowers. They had survived the late chill, flourishing with the plentiful rain.
“Wait outside,” Seteth ordered to the group of guardsmen.
After a series of nods, Byleth followed Seteth through the door. She pulled off her hood and looked around. Candlelight
A grey-haired man bowed over the front counter, wiping off dust.
“May I help you?” he murmured.
Seteth paused just before the counter, Byleth at his shoulder, and cleared his throat.
The man looked up with an annoyed pinch in his brow before he saw who stood before him. A gasp escaped his mouth as he moved around the counter to stop a few feet away from them.
Teller bowed low.
“What an honor to have the Archbishop grace my shop.”
Seteth stepped forward, reaching out his hand for Teller to shake. “Indeed. It is good to see you, Teller.”
Teller took up his hand eagerly, tapping his other hand on Seteth’s. “Ah, yes, my friend. I have missed you.”
Byleth arched a brow. “Didn’t think you two were so friendly, Seteth.”
“Of course!" Teller exclaimed. "This man is my favorite customer.”
There was a pause. Teller looked expectantly between the two of them and Byleth was at a loss for words. She didn't know that Seteth and Teller were so well-acquainted and there was something starstruck in Teller’s eyes when he looked at her, or perhaps analyzing. He was probably thinking what he could try to sell her and how much profit he could make before she left his store.
Teller cleared his throat before addressing Seteth. “Now that the trade embargoes have been lifted, I have plenty of new products for your consideration, my friend.”
Seteth nodded. “Of course.” He made a cursory glance before starting down one of the aisles. Clearly, he knew where he was going.
Byleth lingered at the front and leaned towards Teller. “How did Seteth become your favorite customer?” she asked.
She didn't think Seteth had many friendships outside of the monastery halls, if at all. He had his rapport with some of her students, but that was the extent. What about this store had Seteth attached to it?
Teller glanced at Seteth’s back as the man moved further into the back of the store.
“He has helped me with connections throughout Fódlan to get the best products within miles.”
She supposed that someone in Seteth’s position would know farmers and miners far and wide from keeping the monastery running. He must have some trust in Teller if he gave any kind of information to an outsider.
“Does he come in often?” she asked.
“Not as much anymore, but when he does, he doesn’t hold back.”
Byleth’s gaze snapped to Teller before she could check herself. “Hold back? How so?”
Teller looked over her shoulder to see if Seteth was still in the back. The store was dimly lit, so it was hard to tell shadow from person.
“He has expensive tastes, my Lady,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Teas and fabric, but sometimes jewelry.”
“Jewelry?” Byleth echoed.
“It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes something catches his eye. He’ll stare and stare at it, as if imagining a lover wearing that piece of gold or silver.”
Byleth wasn’t jealous of the idea, she wasn’t, but something sour settled in the pit of her stomach. “I see,” she murmured, turning her attention to the bunches of carefully cut and bound bunches of herbs on the counter. The neat labels named varieties she knew from her time cooking in the dining hall, and some she had never heard before.
“What is this one?”
She picked up one of the sprigs and brought it to her nose. It was pungent and strong enough to sting her eyes, but not unpleasantly so.
“Azurel. It’s good for treating nausea, headaches. I even hear it’s good for energy as well. Just nibble on a leaf or two.”
“Doesn’t look like it will last for long," Byleth said, noting how few leaves clung to the sprig.
“Oh, you plant it and have a constant supply.”
Byleth gave it one last sniff before setting back with the other bunches.
“I might have to return for it, later.”
It was the polite thing to say. There were plenty of things similar in the greenhouses, but she didn't want to offend him.
She waited at the counter, looking at the baskets full of quaint oddities. A draft stirred a wind chime hanging from the ceiling, filling the space with faint music.
Seteth finally met her with two wrapped packages of tea.
“Alright, that’s twenty gold pieces for the two.”
Byleth refused to comment that the merchant in the monastery courtyard sold the same tea at half the price. Instead, she pulled out her wallet and shook out the gold pieces into her palm. She counted ten and ten, setting them in stacks on the counter.
Teller’s brows shot up in shock. “Having our good Lady pay for your things, Seteth?”
Byleth smiled. “It is in repayment for a favor. Besides, he promised me a cup of that tea.”
That seemed to satisfy Teller. “I see. I was worried that he had hit his head, since dear Seteth is normally the pinnacle of well-mannered men.”
She nodded with a quirk of the lips; she couldn't agree more with him.
An embarrassed flush colored Seteth’s cheeks as he muttered, “Alright, that’s enough of that, Teller.” He reached across to add a couple more gold pieces to the pile. “For Rosen and the cats.”
Teller grinned, not bothering to recount the coins Byleth set on the counter. “Thank you, Seteth. Thank you, my Lady. I hope to see you again soon.”
Byleth nodded respectfully before again following Seteth. She blinked at the afternoon sun.
“Let’s hurry back to the monastery. I have a feeling we are both late for our meetings.”
There was a bakery across the street that looked very appealing, but she suppressed the temptation.
“Can’t keep company waiting," she murmured, unable to hide her disappointment.
The guards parted the crowds, which had grown since they went into the store. As they retraced their steps, Byleth glanced back to see people spilling into Teller’s store. He was going to have a lucrative day.
Now, their guards were more alert, checking if enemies had set up in their path upon word of their arrival.
She didn't see any weapons on Seteth, but something told her that he would be able to hold his own. Seteth could wield an ax with deadly efficiency, even without his wyvern. One of the guards had an ax strapped to his back along with the sword on his hip, as if ready to hand to Seteth should the need arise.
“Can I see what I just spent 20 gold coins on?” she asked, chasing the violent thoughts from her mind.
Seteth pulled out one of the wrapped packages and handed it to her.
She weighed it, surprised by how heavy it was. The tea was wrapped in clean white paper with a golden logo pressed to the paper, binding it closed.
“Well, it definitely looks better than what the merchant in the marketplace sells,” she sighed.
She pressed the paper to her nose and inhaled. She immediately pulled away, sneezing and sputtering as her nose tingled.
“That’s strong!”
Byleth pushed the package back into Seteth’s hand, wiping her nose with her free hand.
“You need only a few leaves to brew a perfect cup of tea,” Seteth said. “More than a few leaves makes the tea unbearable. These two packages should last us for a long time.”
She didn't look to see if he was laughing at her.
While their walk was uphill, their return seemed so quick. Before she knew it, they were through the monastery gates, ending their little trek. She couldn’t help but feel sad that it would be back to business as usual.
“Will you be meeting with Judith?” Seteth asked as they entered the hall.
The warmth from the fireplaces melted her cold cheeks and she took a moment to catch her breath.
“Yes. Claude is playing things close to the chest, I think. He would rather not lose what little power he has so he sent some representatives on their behalf.”
She omitted the fact that if Claude was going to visit, Flayn would inevitably follow. Nobody was going to tell Seteth of their romance just yet. Claude was shrewd, able to balance his duties as well as keeping Flayn happy.
“Very well. I hope he realizes that if he wants to solidify his position, he will need to leave his territory to negotiate in person with Fhirdiad and the Church.”
Byleth hummed. This was all true, but she wasn’t going to press Claude into visiting Garreg Mach any time soon.
“Well, I’m glad that we didn't have a courier fetch that tea for us. That was a nice little outing.”
She couldn't help but wonder if he would have bought anything more if she wasn’t there. Would he have indulged further, perhaps in jewelry that Teller had mentioned? Would it be for himself? Or a secret lover?
Seteth regarded her with an inscrutable expression before nodding. “Yes. Quite pleasurable.”
Sensing the dismissal before he could state it, she excused herself. The guards had already dispersed, so she couldn't personally thank them. She would have to track down their names to thank them later.
Hopefully, her company wasn’t already waiting. She needed a little time to at least glance over what the meeting was even about.
“Remember to look over that transcript I gave you,” Seteth called after her.
She glanced back with a pained smile.
Right. That.
“Will do,” she replied cheerfully.
That night, she got about halfway through annotating the speech before the more pressing stack of files had her working long into the night, her other obligation forgotten.