Chapter Text
"Really, kid? Alois?"
Byleth set the tankard of ale down on the bartop with a solid thunk, raising an eyebrow at Jeralt, all false innocence – I don't know what you're talking about.
Jeralt stared back with narrowed eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Good with his hands, really?"
"I was talking about teaching him sign language like he asked. I don't know what you were thinking about, old man," Byleth signed, nonchalant, and shrugged.
"Bullshit," Jeralt grumbled into his tankard.
Byleth rolled his eyes, sipping his own ale. "I can't believe you've never talked about him. He's hot."
"No, don't start." Jeralt pointedly looked away from him before he could start detailing exactly what and how he found Alois attractive. "I don't want to know."
Growing up a mercenary, he had his fair share of odd jobs and even stranger encounters. But even he could never guess how his week would go. Being rudely pried from his bedfellow's warm side to be up at the ass-crack of dawn was unpleasant enough – Levi whined about it all the way to the monastery. Throwing himself in front of an axe to save one of three lost students from some prestigious officer's academy was unexpected but it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities. But being gifted with the power to turn back time to prevent his own gruesome death by an odd child from his recurring dreams? That was far beyond even what he could have expected.
"I'm not a child! And who are you calling odd?"
He cringed at the voice in his head. He really needed to get used to that.
"You cannot keep ignoring me!"
Just watch.
And then there was Alois, a terribly handsome knight in shining armour. Byleth thought back to his swept back brown hair, striking blue-green eyes, and the neat little goatee he had. Now he was impossible to ignore. Fuck. What was hiding underneath all that armour? Alois wasn't any taller than he was but damn was he sturdy. He could always appreciate a man who could toss him around. What would it feel like to have all that muscle against him? To let Alois have his way with him? The only good thing about being suddenly and forcibly recruited by the Church was that he'd be around Alois a little longer.
"Don't."
Byleth snapped out of his reverie, shooting Jeralt a look.
"It's dangerous to get involved with the Knights of Seiros."
"I don't know what that means because someone never bothered to tell me anything."
Jeralt sighed. "They're part of the Church, they serve the Archbishop."
"The Church you were apparently involved with."
His father frowned. He pressed on.
"At least tell me about Alois, then?"
"He's… he's a good man. Knows his way around weapons and he's as capable as the best of them. He'll make a great captain one day, I'm sure. I don't know why he isn't one already. Dogshit angler, though. He can't shut up long enough to catch any fish."
"What else?"
"He's fiercely loyal, aggravatingly cheerful, and far too friendly. Always has the shittiest puns on hand."
"Does he also forcibly recruit anyone he meets?"
"That's my fault. I've run away for far too long and I have a feeling the Church wants to keep an eye on us, too."
"What the hell did you do that would even push them to do this?" Byleth asked. "Holding us hostage doesn't sound very church-like of them."
"It's… complicated. Just play along and we might get out of this alive."
"Fine." He'll needle him for information some other time. "Anything else?"
"You're fishing for something. Ha. Get it? Fuck. Damn it, Alois." Jeralt shook his head and relented. "I don't know if he's seeing anyone. Last I saw him he was courting this girl, I think. But that was well over twenty years ago. I don't know what happened between them. You'll have to ask him yourself."
"You're no help."
"I don't get paid enough to play wingman for my own son."
Byleth snorted.
"By the way, I've been meaning to ask. What the hell are you wearing? And where did you even find it?"
He sat up straight to check out his own outfit. It was very airy, like a dancer's outfit, with a snug choker and quite a lot of bits that jangled. Underneath were the tiniest pair of underthings, only obvious from the way the robe slitted up to his hip. A lace-up pair of leather sandals completed the look. It was extremely revealing and he adored it. "I found it."
Jeralt's raised a brow. "Aren't you cold?"
He shook his head. He absolutely was but he'd be damned if he let Jeralt know. Jeralt didn't seem convinced but said nothing. "Let me have my fun, what with me living and working in a monastery of all places. Me. In a monastery," he signed sharply, annoyance seeping into his bones once again. He thought he'd burnt through all his resentment sparring and tumbling into bed with Levi but apparently not. They killed people for a living and he has probably slept with more people than there were monks. He didn't belong here.
At least his father looked genuinely apologetic. "Look. I'm sorry, I didn't intend for it to go this way. Are you really that uncomfortable?"
Byleth thumbed at the edge of his tankard. "I don't know how to act here. Barely anyone understands me and somehow they're expecting me to teach and be responsible for students. It doesn't make sense."
"And…?" Jeralt urged gently.
"I…" Byleth hesitated, averting his gaze from Jeralt. "I don't know what they think about people like me."
"People like you?"
Byleth's jaw tightened. "Me. All of me. I— I don't know how much of myself to hide but at the same time I don't know if I can hide so much of myself."
A coil of guilt curled in his chest. He was uneasy and on edge but truth be told, Jeralt didn't exactly have a choice. Neither of them did. Byleth crossed his arms, suddenly self conscious about himself.
"You said to be careful around Rhea. This is me behaving." It was a half truth. Mostly he was wary and nervous about his new position and surroundings. He wasn't sure who to trust aside from Jeralt and the mercenaries – all people who have known him for years. There was far too much at stake if he made a misstep and he'd be damned if he got his comrades killed because he was careless and was thinking with his dick.
"I'm sorry, kiddo. I can't say I know either. Hang in there and we'll get this mess sorted, yeah?" Jeralt ruffled his hair. Byleth shoved his hand away then looked down at his outfit again.
"Do you think Alois will like the new look?"
Jeralt groaned, playfully cuffing him over the head with a barely contained smile.
"Gotta say, I haven't seen you this excited over someone since you and Levi got together."
"Never had the time. Haven't you heard? My boss works me like a dog."
"Brat."
Getting warmed up to the monastery and its inhabitants was slow going. It was difficult communicating with people in the monastery and he carried around his old battered notebook to jot down his words – an old habit he long since abandoned once everyone in his mercenary group learned to sign. But what really warmed him was his students' willingness to learn just so they could understand him, so they could communicate with him and get to know him better. It didn't take long for Byleth to find the Golden Deer students endearing more than anything, even with the language barrier. They were surprisingly fun to be around. Teaching had never been in the books but here Byleth was, lecturing Lorenz on his increasingly insistent methods to find a wife and encouraging Ignatz to pursue his artistic passions like he'd seen Jeralt do with him and the handful of kids they'd often run across during their travels. It felt odd to be the "responsible adult" but they were a rowdy bunch and things were never boring when he spotted Claude and Hilda running away laughing from a prank gone awry, Claude catching his gaze to wink at him. Leonie's grudge against him was by far the most bizarre thing about all this. He didn't really understand it but he supposed he'd ask about it once she grew more accustomed to his presence.
But out of everyone in the monastery, he looked forward to seeing Alois most. Truth be told, he was still unsure of himself. At any other time, he would never have hesitated to make a move, to flirt, and to take him to bed at their earliest convenience but this was different. There were so many things riding on his hypervigilance, the mercenaries' safety and his own safety among them.
Though selfishly, and perhaps stupidly, he still accepted Alois' invites whenever he sought him out. Byleth craved his handsome grins and shitty puns that really weren't that funny but still listened to for no other reason than to hear Alois laugh at his own jokes. His presence alone was that bright spot in his otherwise anxiety-ridden days. Alois had also been serious about learning sign language and so, he found many of his lunch breaks and free time in his company, getting him used to fingerspelling and teaching him some basic signs. He was a quick study – extremely enthusiastic, too – and Byleth often caught himself staring at his large hands, calloused and scarred from years of service, and wondered what they would feel like against his skin, the stretch they'd make inside him. Or maybe even just to hold them in his hands and be held in return.
Ugh.
"Hello, Professor!" Alois called out from his spot overlooking the view from the monastery. He signed slowly like he taught him a couple days back. "Here to join me?"
Byleth bit back a smile, the flutter in his chest overwhelming, and approached him with a shrug. He hadn't planned on doing so but he wouldn't say no to spending more time with him. Byleth looked out at the horizon. He could see a pegasus knight and a wyvern rider in the distance, practising forms.
"What are we looking at?"
"Nothing much. Just taking a lunch break," he said while signing. His signs were a little slow and peppered with mistakes but he was confident with it. Still, it was sign language nonetheless – and from someone other than his father! How novel. It delighted him that Alois really was good with his hands. "Would you like… er… how do you sign 'pie'?"
Byleth showed it to him. Alois watched him raptly before nodding and copying the circular sign. "And yes, I'd love a slice."
He was given a piece and Byleth dug in happily, the flavourful meat filling a favourite of his. Alois sighed happily, stretching out beside him. "I hope you're settling in well in the academy. It's always a dough-light to spend time with you, Professor."
Byleth damn near choked on his pie – that was a bad one. He directed a withering look at Alois who chortled. Besides, not many people found his presence a delight. He was the Ashen Demon. Most people ran the other way before he could cut him down. He wasn't exactly shining company.
"What? You don't think so?"
Byleth shook his head.
"Let's see, you're funny, you're a great sparring partner, and you're a hit with the students. Plus you've been gracious enough to help me learn from you. What's not to love? You really are Jeralt's son."
"Except better," Byleth signed smugly, his pie carefully balanced on his knee.
Alois laughed. "Don't let him catch you saying that. My point is, you're more than your moniker. I think most people just need to look past that."
"Most people don't get to. You do realise that, right?"
A sigh. "I do. And maybe I am just too optimistic, but I'd like us to be friends, if you're open to it as well."
Just friends? Byleth didn't ask. Instead, he nodded, warmth swelling in his chest.
"Great! And you can count on me for anything. Anything at all."
Byleth nodded again, not quite sure what to do with all the overwhelming joy threatening to break out of him.
"But, say, mind if I extend a proposal?"
"Alois, this is so sudden!" Byleth teased, eyes wide.
"Nothing of the sort!" Alois laughed, a light flush on his cheeks. "Could you and your mercenaries meet me at the training ground tomorrow after school hours?"
Byleth raised an eyebrow but Alois refused to elaborate and he never had the ability to say no to Alois. He nodded.
"Thanks for coming, Professor." Alois greeted him and the mercenaries at the training grounds the next day. "I'd like you to meet Catherine and Shamir. They're fellow knights and are here to help if you ever need anything. They're the best of the best – truly axe-cellent."
The groans that followed were almost comical.
He hadn't even registered the new arrivals standing behind Alois. A tall woman in armour stood on Alois' right, waving at him cheerily – Catherine. Next to her was a shorter woman with a quiver of arrows, eyeing him with sharp scrutiny, arms crossed in front of her – Shamir. Byleth's mouth went dry even as he met her glare impassively. He nodded his greeting. Fuck. Was it a requirement for the church to hire highly attractive knights? What was their goal? Hope it distracted the enemy enough? Because damn it, it sure was working.
"I thought we could perhaps train together today, your mercenaries against my knights. What do you say?"
Byleth nodded in agreement faster than Jeralt could decide. Levi snickered behind him. He wasn't going to hear the end of this, was he?
"Great! We can meet out in the training grounds for a challenge in, say… ten minutes?" Alois chortled. "It'll be a nice chance for us to bond!"
"Sure, Alois," Jeralt relented, disinterested.
"Alright, everyone, come choose your weapons!" Alois jogged off towards the battlements.
Byleth caught Shamir and Catherine's eyes briefly before they turned and followed Alois towards the battlements. Byleth let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. He made his way towards the swords where Levi joined him, nonchalant.
"They seem interesting," Levi signed discreetly with a grin.
Byleth clasped his hand over Levi's. "I know, shut up."
Levi glanced behind him again and nudged him, murmuring quietly as he passed a wooden training lance over to him. "Take this."
Byleth blinked, brows furrowed as he tried to look past Levi's taller form. "Why? I'm rusty with a lance."
"Just trust me."
Wordlessly, Byleth took the lance and watched Levi pick up another lance, testing its heft and twirling it expertly. Byleth tried imitating him, trying to get used to the length and weight of it in his hands again. He was going to get his ass handed to him like this – what the hell was Levi thinking? With a nod at him, Levi set the lance back on its rack and picked up a sword. Byleth watched him with befuddlement as he clearly attempted to remember the way Byleth did it. He never picked up a sword unless it was life or death, the man was married to his lance.
As they returned to the training grounds, Alois had changed from his bulky silver armour and was instead wearing a different set, one that put his bulging arms and equally thick thighs on full display. It drove him fucking insane. He reluctantly tore his eyes away before he was caught staring. Beside him, Catherine stretched her arms over her head, twisting this way and that before picking up her own wooden sword. There was no denying that she, too, was strong, though unlike Alois' brawler build, she was leaner and taller. She could swing a sword fast and make it hurt. He'd love nothing more than to have a proper spar with her with a sword and test their skills against each other. Approaching her was Shamir, looking as dangerous as she was gorgeous with a lance by her side. Oh?
He flicked his glance towards Catherine's sword, and then to Levi's own dangling from his hands.
Oh.
Levi winked and Byleth could only roll his eyes fondly.
Alois went first against their own large brawler and Byleth delighted in the way Alois moved. He grappled against the other man, arms locked and thighs tensing as he held his ground. They were admittedly evenly matched but their own brawler fought dirty – he would know. His shoulder still twinged with the memory. He managed to get Alois on his back and— well, wasn't that a sight. Alois scrabbled against him, teeth gritted and sweat beading on his brows as he rolled them over. Byleth eyed his arms, large and solid and straining. And he craved it. Fuck, how he craved. Still, Alois' efforts were for naught as their brawler managed to pin him down into the dirt and he tapped out. Byleth wasn't sure if he wanted to put Alois on his back or have him do so to him. Their brawler stood and extended a hand to help Alois up, shaking hands and letting the next fighters in the ring.
Himself and Shamir.
Byleth stepped into the training ground, holding the lance as Jeralt and Levi taught him. Shamir took her own position and the second Alois told them to begin, she struck. Byleth sucked in a breath, parrying with the length of his lance. She spared him no respite, attacking him with a barrage of stabs and swings, most of which he managed to block and dodge. He managed to hold his own and make his own attacks but Shamir was quick to sweep his feet from under him, toppling him on his ass and standing over him with the end of her lance tipping his chin up. There was the tiniest smug smile on her face as she looked down at him. Byleth's chest heaved with effort, hoping the flush on his cheeks could be disguised as exertion. After what felt like longer than necessary, she removed her lance from underneath his chin and pulled him up.
"Next time, leave the lances to your friend."
Byleth watched her walk away with a bubble of excitement in his chest, catching the tail end of Levi getting whacked by Catherine's sword, sweat trailing down the long length of his spine and dampening the curly hair on his head. The rest of the fight went by and left him a panting, sweaty mess at the end of the day. After his sparring session with Shamir, he and Levi traded weapons and he properly showed off his skills against Catherine, resulting in a draw that he was quite proud of. Much better.
"Hey. Why don't you two come with us to the tavern? You've earned it." Catherine poked him with her sword as he laid on the ground, hair dishevelled and damp from sweat.
And that's where he found himself that night, smirking against his tankard when Catherine and Alois burst into hearty laughter, Catherine's drink sloshing dangerously over the rim as she leaned against Levi. Byleth couldn't help but look at Catherine, gaining a brand new appreciation for her strength and easy smile. She was a lot like Alois that way, except she had a far sharper tongue, and a bit more of a teasing streak.
Shamir sat across from him, quietly sipping her own ale. She met his eyes. Something about dark, broody, and mysterious always did something to him. The dangerous aura around her only made her even more appealing. She was a fierce ally and he would hate to be on the opposite end of that bow or lance. Byleth's eyes strayed to Alois who also caught his eye and offered up a warm smile. Byleth pretended to be more engrossed on the finger foods on the table.
"Good job today, Professor," he said. "You really took a stab at it."
The table groaned while Alois chuckled, self satisfied.
"What? I just think that was a great opportunity to sharpen some skills."
"Stop. Just stop." Catherine shook her head. Byleth's shoulders shook in silent laughter as the night progressed. With friends like these, life at this monastery might not be so bad, after all.