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Chapter Text

Dimitri laid stock still under his covers, annoyed, embarrassed, and praying for death. He could hear everything . Every creak of the bed, every giggle and moan, every cry of “Sylvain!” in a breathy, feminine voice, followed by a hollow shushing and muffled laughter. The walls in this dormitory were very thin. No one knew that better than Dimitri.

He’d learned long ago not to bother knocking on the walls or door because Sylvain had started taking that as a challenge. He would be even louder- groaning and growling, “fuck yes, Baby, you feel so good- ” and aside from barging in and personally murdering the man, there was nothing Dimitri could do. So he waited, and he prayed.

He’d tried before to switch rooms, but no one would take the offer. Claude laughed, Lorenz changed the subject, and Felix gave him a look that could freeze boiling water. Dimitri had even considered asking Sylvain to switch him rooms so at least Felix would have to suffer with him, but decided against him. There was enough animosity between him and Felix already.

Tonight’s girl was not an especially quiet one. Dimitri laid in bed, pressed as deeply into his pillows as he could manage, trying to drown out the sounds. “Oh no, not there!” He heard her giggle, falsely objecting to whatever was happening, and Dimitri scowled. No prince should have to put up with this.

The shuddering moan cut him right to the core. Dimitri didn’t know this girl’s name, this girl’s face, but he’d have her voice memorized by morning. Sylvain purred something that couldn’t be made out and the prince considered starting a fire to force an evacuation.

It wasn’t just the extreme awkwardness of being forced to listen to someone else’s sexual escapades. It wasn’t just the anger that Sylvain knew full-well that the walls were thin and  still made no attempts to mute himself, like some kind of perverted exhibitionism act. It wasn’t even the lack of sleep, and Dimitri already got so little sleep.

It was his own body’s damnable reaction. It was his own uncomfortable, unwanted arousal. With every rhythmic crack of the headboard against the wall, he could feel his cock growing harder and he hated it. No prince should get turned on by listening to one of his oldest friends having sex the next room over.

And so he laid there. Exhausted, uncomfortable, angry, and hard. Eventually, the pair in the next room would find their finale, and Dimitri would grip the sheets of his bed and grit his teeth and will himself with all his fortitude not to come with them like some sick voyeur. 

He always managed to restrain himself. But sleep never came easily after, even when the next room had quieted into blessed silence. The prince would sigh, close his eyes, and pray.

And the next morning, if he was a little rougher with Sylvain during training than usual- well, Sylvain knew why.

Chapter Text

When Edelgard finally decided to take a short break from her sovereign duties- from endless reformations, collaborations and consolidations- she still only got as far as the research institution.

The respite was not a vacation from reestablishing the world order, but from the people. From nobles and messengers and guards at her heels and endless meetings. Edelgard needed the clarity of silence. Linhardt, she knew, was the master of that, and so she travelled, unaccompanied, to see him.

The venture had been an insurmountable success. Linhardt, free to set his own hours, had completed remarkable studies on crests, and was happy enough for Edelgard’s assistance, as long as she didn’t bother him. For several months they holed up together, reading, analyzing, experimenting; and it was a strange way, it was the most productive Edelgard had felt in years. There was a freedom to it all- of keeping Lin’s irregular hours, of studying all day and night with no fear of missing councils and meetings, of not being the Flame Emperor but just being Herself- It was greatly relished.

Lin himself seemed ambivalent about the company. Some days he ignored her, and others he was excited to share with her something new he had discovered. Almost all their conversations were about the studies- very rarely did they bring up personal matters.

Except once.

He had been looking at her from his seat beside her for most of the evening. Finally, despite all her attempts to ignore him, he broke the silence.

“Do you think you’ll ever marry?”

It had been so unexpected she nearly dropped her book.

“It’s never occurred to me,” she answered, curiously. “Do you?”

“Hmm. No, I suppose not.” She couldn’t tell if he seemed disappointed or not. “Love and romance always seemed to me like a waste of time better spent studying, or sleeping. But I do wonder what doors I’ve closed for myself.”

“Hmm. I suppose I can relate,” she replied. “I’ve never even had the time to consider it. It felt frivolous, in the long run.”

Linhardt tapped his chin. “I have a new experiment.” He leaned over his chair and kissed her.

It had been a soft, simple kiss, only a moment long. When he pulled away, the Emperor was blushing furiously. She put a finger to her lips, feeling the residual warmth.

“That was… my first kiss,” she admitted, flushed and embarrassed.

“Mine, too.” There was a hint of a soft smile on his face as he settled back into his chair, and without another word, picked his book back up. Edelgard wanted to say something, but didn’t know what, so she said nothing.

By the time Edelgard could no longer afford to stay away from her duties, the pair had made great strides in crest research. She thanked him for his contributions, he bowed graciously, and they parted ways. Every correspondence between them from there on had been strictly professional. 

They never again spoke of the kiss. But neither ever forgot it.

Chapter Text

When they met again, it was on the battlefield. Weapons at the ready, standing under different coloured flags, they hesitated. Both of them knew that one of them was going to die. 

A single memory came to both their minds- before the war had started, when they were both just students attending a school dance. Caspar held his hand out to Annette, standing at the wall next to Mercedes in a crowded ballroom, and with more enthusiasm than grace, he spun the girl on to the dance floor.

“I’m almost surprised to find you here,” She giggled, “I thought you’d be out punching things.”

“Yeah I tried to get out of it but Dorthea said she’d make me pay,” Caspar grimaced.

“Oh, Dorthea is so pretty,” Annette sighed. “Why aren’t you dancing with her, then? Why me?”

How does one say ‘because you’re one of maybe two girls shorter than me and dancing with you won’t make me look like a baby’ ?

“I dunno. Does a guy gotta have a reason? Shut up,” He blushed.

*

Axe gripped tightly in his hands, Caspar ran towards her with a primal scream. Annette dodged his bull-rush attack, firing a cutting gale that clipped his ear and sliced the pauldron off his shoulder. With grit teeth and rage-filled eyes, he whirled back on her.

*

“Your stance isn’t right,” Annette childed when, again, they almost tripped over each others’ toes. She moved his hand from her shoulder to her waist. Caspar swallowed his breath, red-faced at the intimacy. 

“W-well, you keep trying to lead, and it’s making me mess up!”

“Because you don’t know the steps!”

*

The swing of his axe nearly split her in half. Annette pulled back enough to avoid a fatality but the damage was done- a bloody, gaping wound carved across her torso. A well aimed wind spell sent Caspar’s axe flying, and she took the moment of his indecision to heal herself.

*

She accidentally stepped on his foot, and Caspar tripped forward, falling onto Annette with a scream and a THUD . They found themselves on the floor, his hands on either side of her head, knees planted on either side of hers, and for a moment the embarrassed, flushed way she looked up at him was so cute - 

*

He charged forward, weaponless, and knocked Annette into the dirt. Knees planted on either side of hers, he raised his fist, and her own hand came up defensively, an uncast spell sparking on her fingertips-

*

Caspar suddenly remembered they were in a crowded ballroom, and had made themselves a spectacle. He jumped up and backed away from Annette, offering her no assistance. “Thanks for the dance,” He bowed with an embarrassing squeak in his voice, before sprinting to the exit.

*

Bleeding and panting, Caspar and Annette hesitated as the war raged on around them. Eventually they knew, one of them would have to make the first move, but brawling in a field under different coloured flags, they hesitated. Both of them knew that one of them was going to die.

Chapter Text

”It’s too far away,” Manuela complained, head lolling on the bar. Then, with a lopsided grin, she raised her arms up to Seteth. “Carry me.”

“I will do no such thing,” he replied curtly with flushed cheeks. “You wanted to drink in town, it’s your responsibility to get back home.”

“You came with me, so it’s your responsibility now, Handsome~” She punctuated her statement by giving Seteth a firm poke in the chest. Seteth looked around the tavern in a mild panic, and caught the eyes of the barkeeper, who was chuckling.

“It’s fine,” The proprietor told him, “Her favorite room is vacant. Upstairs all the way on the left.” She slid a key to Seteth, who, with a roll of his eyes, wrapped an arm around his drunken associate to escort her upstairs.

Manuela stumbled and almost fell several times on the way up, but finally the room was opened and a drunken mess of a professor lurched in, immediately steadying herself on the bed to remove her shoes and cape. In her slinky green dress, makeup smeared, and hair falling over her face, Manuela smirked at Seteth with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, you finally have me alone, what ever will you do with me now?” She slurred. Seteth’s face was grim.

“This is unbecoming.”

Manuela snorted and fell back on the bed. “Story of my life.”

Seteth sighed heavily. “Why do you do this, Manuela? You are a beautiful, intelligent, compassionate woman. Why treat yourself this way?”

“Are you kidding? That’s exactly why!” She spat back a little too loudly, sitting up. “I know I’m hot, and talented- I was the head Diva at the opera! Even now, I could sing an aria that would make you weep. ” There was a challenge in her eye, like she might very well put her claim to the test. “But I can’t get anyone to love me. I can’t get anyone to stay!”

Seteth crossed his arms, exasperated. They’d had this conversation plenty of nights and every time the conclusion came to ‘drink less’, but the woman could never quite stick to it.

“...This is not a conversation to have drunk, Manuela. If you like, we can speak tomorrow. I have time after lunch.”

She snorted. “You’d make time to listen to me complain about my problems?”

“I would. We are friends, after all.”

She seemed dumbstruck at that, and looked at him with sleepy eyes, before bursting into laughter.

“You are too much,” she chuckled. “Someday I will crack your shell and make you my omelette.”

While the metaphor was confusing, the sentiment was clear, and Seteth felt his chest warm a little, despite himself.

“Get some rest. I shall see you tomorrow, Professor.”

“Seteth…” She halted him, cozying up sleepily into the bed, “if I forgot… will you tell me tomorrow the nice things you said about me tonight?”

“....No,” He answered. “The next time I say them…”

He paused. She was already asleep. Seteth sighed, and closed the door behind him.

Chapter Text

When Gilbert saw the younger man coming, knew from his pointed, furious expression that Felix was coming to talk to him- and it was going to be about Annette. Absent though he was in his daughter’s life, he was no fool. He saw the way the young man followed her, how he spoke to her differently than he spoke to anyone else, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her.

“Hey,” Felix began sharply. It was not a greeting, it was a challenge. “I need a word with you.”

So it was time. Gilbert had assumed that one day this would happen- that he would be chastised by this boy for ignoring Annette, for throwing away his home and family, for his self-imposed penance. Gilbert hoped Felix would never have to understand why.

“Indeed," the knight replied. “I am at your service, Lord Fr-”

“I’m gonna marry Annette.”

A heavy silence hung between them at the announcement. Gilbert was immediately torn. He had distanced himself, even severed himself, from Annette’s affairs- she was free to do as he wished. Yet, the man that once existed, the man that held a tiny red-haired baby in his arms, taught her to hold an axe, danced with her standing on his feet- that man felt Felix’s words as an arrow to his heart.

“Frankly, I don’t care what you think,” Felix continued with a hand on his hip, “But I know Annette does. So I’m doing the courtly thing and telling you, first. But don’t misunderstand. I’m not asking permission. ” His eyes flashed dangerously, almost invitingly. A provocation.

The old man did not rise to the challenge. However, he did not dismiss the young man, either. Instead he rose to his full, impressive height, looking down his nose at Felix with stone cold eyes.

“It is not my place anymore to arrange her marriages,” he said with a little more fire in his eyes than Felix had ever seen. “However, as she has no one else at present to speak on her behalf, I must ask- Why? Dominic lands are small, and though she has the relic, she is not due to inherit otherwise, as my birthright has been passed to my brother for his own children. There is no dowry, and no claims.”

Felix’s expression drew into a contemptuous sneer. “Are you an idiot? I don’t care about THAT. Frahldarius lands are plenty enough. I’m going to marry her because I love her.”

That was the correct answer. Gilbert tried not to smile.

“Since you don’t need my permission,” he repeated back to Felix, “You instead have my support. Good luck, my lord.”

Felix looked him up and down, as if surprised by Gilbert’s approval. After a moment, he scowled again, turned, and walked away.

When Felix was gone, Gilbert walked up the bridge to the cathedral, and sat down heavily in a pew. He leaned forward over his praying hands with a small, guarded smile.

“Rodrigue,” he prayed, “My friend. Our children are going to get married. Would this make you happy?”

He choked out something between a laugh and a sob, and quickly swallowed it back up.

“Am I allowed to be happy?”

Chapter Text

The music hit, the pyrotechnics detonated and the crowd exploded into noise and movement as Balthus made his way down the ramp with a smug grin. The people booed him, because he was the heel and they were meant to hate him, but others held signs in his favor. The camera did not focus on those.

After stepping into the ring, Balthus traded his ostentatious coat to the ref for a microphone, and looked contemptuously over the crowd. “Sure got an ugly crowd here in… Remire Village!” He announced, and the crowd booed and screamed and scorned. That was THEIR village! They were not ugly! How dare he!

“The championship is coming up, and my opponent feels on top of the world! He’s got his title, he’s got his girl- and he’s got a fight against ME, the greatest wrestler in Fodlan!” Balthus flashed his muscles, and the crowd reacted appropriately. “He’s gone complacent at the top, and now he’s gonna learn, you NEVER underestimate Balthus Von Albtecht!”

“NO SO FAST!”
The audience gasped and cheered as Rapael’s music hit and he came down the ramp with mic in hand, glaring at his rival as his valet Hilda trailed behind him with a sashay of hips and a toss of pink hair, receiving wolf whistles. Raphael pointed into the ring, wearing the championship belt mockingly around his waist.

“You won’t be so smug next Sunday, when I beat your ass again, just like I did to win this!”

More cheers for the champ, the hero! But Balthus wasn’t intimidated- he was laughing darkly, like he had a secret.

“You won’t beat me again, Raphael. I have something up my sleeve!”

Before the champ could express confusion, Hilda moved past him and climbed into the ring, standing at Balthus’ side with a smarmy smirk. The other man put his arm around Hilda and dipped her low, pressing a firm, passionate kiss into her lips. Raphael’s mouth hung open, cameras making sure to get a perfect reaction shot for next week’s intro package and the crowd were on their feet with boos and shrieks, deafening the auditorium. What a villain! What a harlot! This was such an incredible and unexpected twist!

“Hilda!” Raphael gaped in despair, “How could you?”
“Sorry baby,” she cooed, sidled up against Balthus, “you were a lot of fun~”

Unable to keep his cool, Raphael charged into the ring. Hilda ran aside as the blonde began beating on her new lover as refs ran in to pull the two apart and the audience hollered.

“Fight me right now!” Raphael roared, “I’ve trained harder than anyone! I beat you last week and I can beat you right now!”
“You want me to fight you right now? SHOULD I FIGHT HIM RIGHT NOW?”

The audience screamed their approval, yes! Yes, fight him right now, live, in front of us!
“TOO BAD!” Balthus laughed, “You have to wait for the championship next Sunday, when I take that belt just like I took your girl!”
He dropped the mic and helped Hilda exit the ring. The two strolled back up the ramp to the backstage craft services table as Raphael stood watching them from the middle of the ring. The crowd felt his despair, applauding wildly as the cameras faded to black and the commercials started so the crew could sweep out the ring for the next match.

See this epic main event NEXT SUNDAY at FODLAN CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING!

Chapter Text

Her shoes clicked on the polished wooden floorboards as she strode purposefully into the library, finding Linhardt exactly where she thought she would. At this time of night, he was awake, and no one else was, so they were alone. Flayn folded her arms, and coughed loudly to gain his attention.

“Flayn,” he greeted, closing his book. Good- she had his full attention. The girl stood as tall and proud as one could appear in a floofy dress.

“I have considered your proposal, Linhardt,” she began. “And I will accept- on one condition.”

This clearly interested him, as he moved closer to her with wide, focused eyes, possibly more awake than she had even seen him, and waited for her to continue. Flayn regarded him seriously, taking in every detail. He was obviously handsome, and she liked his hair. Their shared crest was certainly of interest. But could she be with a man whose favorite pastime was sleeping late; the thing she feared the most? That aside, could she be with a man whose intentions she did not fully understand? Had he proposed to her because he really did like her, but was miserable at communicating- or was it actually of scientific inquiry?

This test would be the deciding factor. A small, devilish smile crossed her lips as she looked up at him.

“I will marry you… if you can convince my brother.”

Yes, that did it. Lin’s eyes widened with clear apprehension.

“I would rather not,” he admitted. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to just run away with me?”

She felt her heartbeat increase at that suggestion, and tried to quell the heat in her cheeks. Romantic though that idea was, she needed to stay firm!

“Absolutely not. My brother is very important to me, and I shall not marry a man he does not approve of.”

Linhardt sighed, brushing his hair back over his scalp. “You know he would never approve of anyone you wanted to marry. You could be Archbishop Byleth, and Seteth would still say no.”

This was probably true. And in any other circumstance, she would have taken his suggestion to elope. But Flayn needed to test Linhardt’s sincerity, and this was the best way she could think of.

“Nonetheless, that is my condition. I bid you good luck, Linhardt.”

She turned on her heel and left him in the library, alone with his unease.

Flayn very much expected this to be the end of it. Linhardt hated going out of his way, or doing anything troublesome. If he didn’t get what he wanted immediately, he had a tendency to quit and do something else.

Which is why she absolutely did not expect to have her door slam open two days later by a red-faced Seteth, boiling with anger. Flayn went cold, wondering what she could have possibly done to warrant such rage.

“YOU! Are NEVER to speak to Linhardt Hevring ever again!” He demanded, seething. Flayn could only blink at him in shock as he swept back down the hall, cape billowing behind him, leaving her alone just as suddenly as he had exploded in.

She couldn’t help the victorious little smile that split her face.

Chapter Text

She was dancing to herself in the greenhouse again, facing away as she hummed to the flowers, the little blue ribbon on the small of her back bobbing adorably to her rhythm (and it was certainly the bow that he was looking at). When he dropped his hand on her shoulder though, she jumped with a yelp and whirled on him.

“Claude! Don’t sneak up on me!”

“I wasn’t trying to,” He grinned apologetically, holding up his hands. “You were a million miles away. What song was this one?”

Annette flushed pink, frowning. “No way, I’m not gonna let you make fun of me!”

“Hey now, I would never make fun of you!” Claude smiled in that disarmingly charming way. “I genuinely like your songs! I think they’re cute!”

She frowned even harder, crossing her arms with a huff. “They aren’t supposed to be cute .”

“But they are cute. You’re cute.” Claude leaned in just a bit, smiling at her in a way she’d never seen on him before; his sparkling green eyes darkening into something almost predatory . Annette’s pink cheeks burned bright red and she turned away from him to hide her embarrassment, suddenly feeling like a rabbit being stared down by a fox.

“D-don’t bully me!”

Claude took a step forward, closing the distance between them. Annette shivered, she could practically feel his broad chest against her back, the warmth he radiated. “I didn’t come here to make fun of you, I promise,” Claude smiled. “I came to see if you could help me with another song I’m writing.”

Annette peeked over her shoulder at him. His last song had been about her , and in a weird way it was sort of flattering. “...I guess I can try,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”

Claude moved as smooth as silk as he rounded to stand beside her. Annette turned away and stared at the flower bed as hard as she could, and he chuckled.

“It’s still a work in progress,” he began. “I don’t have all the lyrics or a melody yet, but essentially, it’s about a pirate who comes to port for pirate-y reasons, but falls in love with a magical maiden. He courts the maiden and she returns his love and sets sail on his ship with him across the sea. But then he reveals that he’s actually a prince, and he’s going to make her his princess of a faraway land.” Claude leaned into Annette’s line of sight, forcing her to look at him, at his mischievous smile and cunning green eyes. “So? What do you think, Annette? Can you help me?”

He watched her intently as she turned her curious eyes up to him, thinking for just a moment, before replying.

“...That’s a song? It sounds more like a fable. Wouldn’t you prefer to put it in a storybook?”

Claude snorted and laughed so genuinely that Annette couldn’t help but smile, too. His hand came up to his mouth to stifle his giggle.

“Okay. Fair enough,” he laughed. “I’ll work on that. Any thoughts on the story?”

“Yes,” she replied easily. “It sounds like a relationship built on lies. He came to her as a pirate and that's who she fell in love with, then suddenly he’s a prince? What else did he lie about? What if she wanted to be a pirate, not a princess? He sounds like a guy I can’t trust!”

Claude’s mouth opened and for an entire moment, no sound came out. Finally he wheezed out another laugh, doubling over with his hands on his knees. “Annette, you are my favorite person,” he grinned honestly, and righted himself again, practically glowing with joy. “Okay. What can I do to fix the story? If the pirate tells her he’s a prince right away, he won’t know for sure that she loves him for HIM, and not his title.”

“Well there's plenty of time between ‘I love you’ and ‘let’s sail away together’ for him to come clean!” Annette declared with her hands on her hips. “Before she steps foot on that boat he needs to be honest with her, and make sure it’s still the life she wants! If she loves him, she’ll be happy just to be with him, prince or pirate.”

Claude tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Okay,” he started. “What if he drops some hints during their time together? Then she can mentally prepare herself.”

“I guess that’s fine,” Annette shrugged. “Honestly though, my songs about, like… boxes, and libraries. You might do better to talk to Seteth or someone who can actually write stories for help with this.”

“Fine, fine.” He held his hands up in defeat. “When I polish this some more though, I hope you’ll be my first audience, Annette.” Claude winked, and she felt her heart beat faster.

“O-of course!” She stammered awkwardly. “You sat through all of my silly, dumb songs. I would love to hear your actually good song!”

“If I get this right,” he began in a sly tone, “it should be very good. Thanks for your help, Annette! Great work in the garden, here!”

“Oh… don’t mention it!” she blushed as he turned back towards the door with his hands casually behind his head. Halfway out of the greenhouse though, he turned back.

“Oh, Annette; on an unrelated note, have you ever been on a ship before?”

“No. Why?” She blinked at him curiously. Claude grinned again, like a cat with cream.

“No reason. See you around!”

The door closed behind him, leaving Annette alone and strangely alarmed.

Chapter Text

He knew how to work the apps on his phone, she KNEW he did she’d seen him do it, but he was jabbing at them in frustration like they would respond better to force. Flayn rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “Brother, you are impossible. Give it here.”

“I can do it!” Seteth insisted testily. Songs were starting and stopping and skipping but the music still sounded from his device.

“You have to connect it to the Bluetooth.”

“It is connected, see? ‘Xfinitywifi’.”

“That-” She sighed. “That is not the Bluetooth.”
Seteth finally growled in annoyance and handed his phone over. Within a moment, his Spotify was connected to the speaker and soft jazz filled the room. Seteth sighed.

“I will never get used to this.”

“It is amazing the thing you can get used to,” she said, handing his phone back. “You got used to automobiles.”

“By necessity,” he snapped tersely, though she was right. “How are you so much better at this than me?”

“The privileges of youth.”

He would have rolled his eyes but the way she sparkled teasingly at him merely filled Seteth with warm affection. He sighed and leaned back, listening to the soft music from his new speaker. Thousands of years, and yet he was still in another stuffy office, though comfort in desk chairs had considerably advanced. Many devices had improved the quality of life- typewriters which became word processors which became computers, trains and cars, record players…. Somehow the technology evolved, but the work itself always felt the same. Seteth rubbed at one of his temples, feeling the start of a headache that his soothing music was not helping as he’d hoped it would. Flayn frowned at him.

“Would you like me to heal your migraine?...”

“Flayn.” A warning in his clipped voice. Her frown became a scowl.

“I could make it look like it was just a massage. No one would know it is magic. No one is here that would recognize it!”

“Keep your voice down!” he hissed, flashing his eyes dangerously before glancing around. Sure, his office was empty save the two of them, but this floor, this building … “Magic doesn’t exist. I will just take some Tylenol.”

Flayn pouted, and Seteth felt bad for losing his temper. The years had changed so MANY things… but their need to be careful only seemed to increase. It was hard enough that for the longest time, men were culturally obligated to have short hair and take their hats off indoors… his ears had almost been exposed a hundred times.

Idly he wondered how his family would have fared in this era of technology. He felt like Seiros- long dead now- would have thrived. She would probably already be a CEO somewhere. Indech would have been taken to guns, more than like. Fortunately for the world, rather than explore that idea, he had made something of a cryptid of himself slumbering in his lake. Macuil might’ve been wildly entertained by computers if he could stop hating humans long enough to discover their technology. Instead, he vanished from his desert as habitation encroached on it. Seteth hadn’t heard from him in over two millennia.

Flayn must have sensed his troubled heart. She always did.

“You know,” she began, “I think it has been a while since we have gone fishing.”

He turned to her with interest. Fishing… now, THAT was something that barely changed at all. The poles improved but otherwise it was the same as it had been since the beginning of time.

“You’re right,” he said, resolutely. “This weekend, then?”

“It’s a date!” She smiled sweetly, then gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head before starting to gather up her things. “I must go, my shift will start soon. Try not to overwork yourself, Dear Brother.”

“When have I ever,” he replied dryly, and smiled. Seteth waved his hand dismissively. “Go on, don’t be late.”

She hurried out the door, leaving Seteth alone with his thoughts. He needed to return to work, but the glare of the monitor was putting a strain on his eyes. He turned instead towards the window, and the bustling metropolis below it.

He imagined a simpler time. Carriages instead of cars, books instead of laptops. But besides that… what had really changed? The pair on the park bench, chatting idly through their lunch, could have existed at any point in any time. The couple crossing the street- the man placed his hand carefully on the woman’s back as they walked. This was nothing he had never seen. Everything changed… and yet nothing did. He leaned back in his chair, pensive.

And then was startled when his music was cut through with the loud noise of an advertisement blaring through his speaker. Seteth flinched. Damn… maybe he really should shell out for Premium Spotify.