004 » i feel like i can't break through

[bladehand]

fanart by Living201882687.
for "alexandre" at antileon.

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you want that priest obliterated

[bladehand]

[ Byleth tenses. Having Alex this close — Dimitri's face this close — it brings to mind too many old memories, some of them lovely, and some of them terrible. They make him ache for things he thought he'd long forgotten. That night of the ball, when Dimitri had danced with all the girls but hadn't danced with him. When they'd been close to the Goddess Tower, and Byleth had almost thought of saying something, but ultimately didn't. There were so many chances then, and they were both so young. He'd thought himself a professor then, thought it was inappropriate, but the truth was that he was so, so young —

He can't look Alex in the eyes. He's afraid of what the boy will find there. Longing? Hope? Lust for a man he had gladly marched into hell for? He doesn't want Alex to look into his eyes and find him staring at a memory. He doesn't want his ward to think that he wasn't valued, or that he was always a replacement for someone else.

But it seems that Alex has already made his decision in that regard. ]

...Usually, I am the one inviting others to tea.

[ That's only half-true. He hasn't invited anyone to tea in ages. Part of it is that he's been too busy, but the truth of the matter is also that he's withdrawn over the last few moons, and it's been public gossip within the monastery as to why. The Archbishop has only grown more and more solemn, in the time that I've worked here. Goddess knows what plagues him...

He should be happy. Fódlan is at peace. It's just — he's terribly, terribly unhappy, too, and it's all he can do to keep that unhappiness from the others. Seteth and Flayn and the rest. They don't deserve to see his unhappiness. ]

As you wish...

[ He allows himself one small indulgence; he leans back in his chair, into the arm on his shoulder. He allows himself to submit, very slightly, to Alex's whims. Some small degree of tension eases out of his back as he does so.

They have discussed this, but even so, Byleth tries one last time to refuse: ]

Alex, I... Truly, I have only ever wanted you to be happy.

[antileon]

[ Goddess, but her servant on earth is just too beautiful. The way Byleth turns his gaze away, but his body opens up to touch... it's intoxicating. It makes Alex want to push for even more. The more that Byleth raises these flimsy attempts to refuse his ward's advances, the more urgently Alex feels the need to claim him. ]

I am happy, Archbishop. I am happy whenever I get to be with you.

[ The young man only smiles. Alex works diligently, like a trained butler of the sort normally only available to noblemen. Swiftly, the young man clears off several items on Byleth's desk, carefully rearranging things so that the archbishop can easily resume his work later. Then he lays out the teacups and snack curate, placing both in an area that will be easy for Byleth to reach.

Not that the archbishop will need to reach for anything himself. Alex smiles in his polished sunshine way and settles into the man's lap. ]

Let me tend to you.

[ His voice is tender, promising, as he slides into the seat beside Byleth — the man's armchair is much too big for him, so Alex can also fit in it. He's half-leaning on Byleth's thigh, half-pressed with his chest up against Byleth's side. He used to sit like this with the archbishop when he was a much smaller boy, freshly taken in from the Galatean snowfields and in desperate need of warmth.

Now he's older and bigger and stronger, and it's an easy thing for him to snake his arm around Byleth's waist. It's an easy thing for him to reach over to the dessert plates and pick up a finger cake laden with cream — the sort that Byleth tends to like, that he can eat dozens of in one sitting. ]

Say "ah".

[ Too doting? Or too daring? ]

[bladehand]

[ Byleth has never really been Alex's father so much as just his legal guardian; the monastery raised him more than Byleth himself ever did. But they did sit this closely, this intimately, once or twice when Alex was younger and smaller.

Byleth had felt such an intense desire to protect him, then. As if he could use this as a second chance of sorts, an opportunity to make things right, as he so often did, turning back the hands of time with the Goddess's power —

Now Alex is much too tall to be snuggled up underneath Byleth's arm like this, but the archbishop finds himself unable to refuse his ward as he parts his lips and finds a bit of cake pressed against the tip of his tongue. He wants to dislike it. He wants very much to dislike it. Unfortunately, food has always been one of Byleth's weaknesses, and he finds his heart softening as the sweet sugar melts on his tongue and he chews through that exquisitely soft cake.

So sweet. All too sweet for a broken man like him. He shouldn't — he shouldn't be enjoying this — ]

I should be the one tending to you...

[ Unfortunately, he can't finish his thoughts without Alex pressing more fingerling cake against his lips. Byleth tries to frown, but finds himself merely fluttering his lashes and opening his mouth again. And when he does, he's rewarded with sweetness, softness — the unrelenting, unyielding attention of the young man by his side...

...This is so embarrassing! He's not a child, or some sort of baby bird...! ]

Alex, I can feed myself. You should have some for y — for yourself —