#fe fictions

Said father had unfortunately far too many duties to ignore. While he did his best to be with you as often as he could for the first week, the second week of Lucina’s life couldn’t hold off the demands of work any longer.

But it wouldn’t stop him from hurrying back to the chambers eary, though.

Which is precisely what happened that evening. 

The doors to your shared bedroom quietly pushed open, and a very dashing young Exalt peered inside.

“Robin? Are you awake?” His voice was so gentle, which always warmed your heart. 

You caught his eye from across the room, motioning for him to join you and the swaddled baby blue bird in your arms.

“I haven’t slept since you checked on us this afternoon.” You patted the spot on the bed beside you, “And don’t worry about staying quiet; Lucina’s awake, too.”

“Neither of you should be, but Lucina being awake is the most surprising.” Chrom remarked as he unclasped his cape and pulled off his boots before coming to the bed. The mattress creaked under his knee, while he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“How do you feel?” 

“I am well.” You assured him, “Lissa and Maribelle gave us a clean bill of health for her 14-day check. Lucina’s gaining weight as she should, and all this bed rest has my healing on schedule.”

He smiled, “I’m glad to hear you’re both doing so well. I only wish I could’ve attended, too.” 

“It was only a routine appointment; I doubt it would’ve been all that interesting for you.”

“Are you kidding? I think about what you two are doing all day!”

“You miss us that much, huh?” You joked, but it was quite true. Chrom bowed his head with a sigh, all but sinking down beside you.

“You have no idea…Frederick’s done his best to take care of what he could, but there’s still a mountain of work I have to handle. Even if I wanted to stay here with you two, I'd likely be dragged away.”

“I’m sorry you have to work so hard. I wish you could take some time off with us…or that I could at least pick up some slack. Surely there are some approvals that the queen’s seal is good enough for.”

Chrom smiled some, leaning his head against yours. “It’s the thought that counts. If I could have my way I wouldn’t leave this room for a month!”

“I think you might get a bit stir crazy.” You joked, but Chrom wouldn’t have it.

“Hmm...maybe if we were stuck in here, specifically. So instead, I'll just whisk the two of you away up into the mountains, somewhere. Royal duties be damned.” Gentle fingers brushed along Lucina’s pink cheek, making the newborn squeak and squirm. “Although I fear Frederick would track us down in less than a day.”

“Best not to test our luck.” You chuckled. Chrom wrapped his arm around you, drawing his girls close.

“I’ll just have to make do with the time I’ve got now…and maybe see if I can’t guilt the other nobles into letting me sneak away earlier.  I hate to leave you alone for so long.”

“It’s not so bad. Lucina is a very peaceful baby. But if you're offering to change her nappies, I won’t fight you.”

“If that is what you need me to do, of course I will!” 

You watched her little face twist in displeasure, threatening you with a cry that would surely take a long time to soothe. She hadn't been the center of attention for nearly 10 minutes, by now!

But Chrom was quick- he slipped his arm from your shoulders to take up the little bundle, rising back to his feet so he might soothe her with a gentle bounce and walk about the room.

“Really? The Exalt of Ylisse would change a baby’s blowout?

“Er…well, I…may need a little bit of educating, but if you insist…”

The blush on his face was simply adorable. You fell back into the pillows with a giggle. “To think I married such a chivalrous and capable man. There are few who would be willing to take on such a dangerous task, let alone the ruler of the kingdom!”

“To be fair, I don’t think there’s a single Shepherd that wouldn’t change their baby; Frederick and Phila both wouldn’t have allowed passive fathers into the army to begin with.” Chrom mused, cuddling the still-squirming newborn close. “Isn’t that right, Luci? He would string me up by my toes if I made Mama do everything…er, if we didn’t have nursemaids to help.”

“Honestly I think he would be more mortified that the royal parents are even considering doing anything like that. It feels a little unfair…” 

Chrom quieted the little girl without effort; in moments she was snoozing happily against her father’s strong heartbeat, snuggled safe and sound. 

Carefully he returned to your side, settling into his side of the bed. Your head fell to his shoulder, the two of you gazing at the sweet princess.

“You know…if you really wanted to raise her in a more hands-on way, we could discuss it. Emmeryn practically raised Lissa and I, between how our parents were and the state of the kingdom during that war...well, you know."

“I won’t lie, it would be wonderful to raise her like a semi-normal family. But we don’t have to worry about that right now.”

“No?”

“Maribelle won’t let me lift a finger until Lucina’s at least a month old. Do you really want to take her on?” 

A shiver ran down his spine. “Ah…no, I don’t believe so. Best to stay put than face her fury.” 

Another chuckle. “Good answer.”

The two of you settled in for the evening, fawning over your beautiful girl, wondering what kind of person she might grow up to be.

And Maribelle would be quite pleased to find you continuing to rest…but lamented Chrom having come in to harass the queen and princess (honestly, couldn’t he see he was keeping you up?! How inconsiderate!)-- ah, well. At least you all looked happy cuddled into bed, together.

“What happened??” 

“I do not know, but she can't stop crying. I fear she may have hurt herself, or worse.” You replied as you both hit the stairs. 

You rushed up, skipping two steps at a time to keep up with Felix’s ever-increasing speed. Though to be fair, it did seem to be an emergency.

He could hear her wails through the bedroom doors. She was only three months old-- what could possibly have upset her so badly?!

Felix burst into the room with a hand on his blade,  ready to take down whoever had hurt his daughter.

To his surprise, it was just Flayn, trying to soothe the baby in her arms. So far it wasn’t working.

She was startled by the sudden entrance, but it gave way to relief when she saw the parents hurrying to her and the caterwauling baby.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re back! I’m sorry, Archbishop, I really tried, but nothing will calm her down!”

“It’s fine, Flayn. I didn’t expect you to. When she gets like this, there’s only one person who can.” You replied cryptically as you reached for the baby.

Flayn was more than happy to hand her over, though the crying did not stop even in her mother’s arms. Felix pressed close, running his hand over her hair, searching for the source of her anguish.

“Is she hungry? Or did she eat something she wasn’t supposed to? Was she bitten by something??” His touch seemed to catch the little girl’s attention, her loud crying slowly turning into sniffled sobs. 

“No, she’s not hungry or hurt. She just wanted to see you.” 

His face blanched when you passed the baby to him. Almost as soon as she was held by her father, the crying stopped.

“I…what?” 

Father and daughter stared blankly at each other, though his daughter’s wide, tear-rimmed eyes were far cuter than his.

He looked between Eisner and his wife, deeply confused by the situation. You simply shrugged, gesturing at the three-month-old.

“When she’s inconsolable like that, it’s usually because she misses you.” 

“What? How do you-?” He racked his brain, trying to think of a time when this happened before. There had been some times where she was fussy when you held her, but nothing like this.

Flayn giggled, “Does this mean she likes you better than the Archbishop? What a surprise!”

“I knew she’d be a daddy’s girl from the first day." You smiled at them, watching Felix’s face slowly turn red. “Don’t you remember how she wailed when she was born? But as soon as you got your hands on her, she fell right asleep.”

“How sweet!!”

“All right, all right-”

“And every time she wakes up in the night crying, Felix takes care of her. Unless she needs to eat, of course.”

“W-well I’m not gonna make you take care of her on top of everything else you do! You need your rest more than anybody!”

“I know,” You reached up to cup his blushing face (which only made it worse), “That’s why I know you’re her favorite. She knows you’ll take care of her.”

Flayn’s squeal was barely suppressed- which only served to bring Felix closer to bursting into flames.

“Enough! Don’t you have other duties to tend to?!” 

“I suppose I do, milord.” She curtsied with an impish grin, “Do let me know if the two of you require any assistance! Though it seems you’re fine now that Papa’s here.”

“You-!!” 

“That’ll be all, Flayn.” You dismissed her with a chuckle. The silly girl made a break for the door before Felix could throw something.

He glared sharply at you, turning his nose up at his ridiculous wife.

“Honestly, why do you encourage her? You couldn’t let me keep a shred of dignity today?”

“What do you mean? I think it’s incredibly dignified that you’re such an attentive father. Do you think it’s embarrassing?”

“Of course I don’t.” He snapped, “I just...don’t need Flayn running around telling other people about it. Sylvain would mock me for years if he knew I sprinted across campus because my daughter cried.”

“If he tries to tease you about it, you can make fun of him for being a deadbeat.”

“He’s not a deadbeat, he’s just a moron.” He huffed, bouncing the gurgling baby girl. “Besides, it’s your day off. You shouldn’t have to worry about anything and resting properly.”

“Well we were, until she wanted to see you. And now I’m sure you realize that when she wants you, she’s unstoppable.”

Felix smiled softly at his little daughter. “Yes, I suppose I do. Thank you for making it clear which parent is your favorite, Eisner.”

“Whoa, now…I didn’t say anything about being the favorite.” You nudged his shoulder, “She just prefers your company when she’s upset. She sees you more as a nursemaid than anything else.”

“No, you’ve made it clear, as has my daughter. She prefers her father’s love over her mother…which is completely reasonable.”

You shook your head, watching the little girl’s eyes sparkle at her father’s smile. “Oh, dear…I fear we’ve created a monster, Eisner.”

“Don’t try to win her over now- she won’t be swayed from her father’s love.” His chest puffed with pride, all while planting a barrage of kisses to her chubby little cheeks. “Now is there anything else you need? Or should you get back to lazing around while I tend to our child?”

“I just needed you to make her stop crying. You can get back to work. It’s not your day off.” You reminded him with a cheeky grin, though Felix was unconvinced.

“If I leave again she'll cry, will she not? Perhaps I ought to stay. I can afford a half day to make sure you’re not doing anything strenuous.”

“If you’re offering to spend the rest of the day with your girls…we would be happy to have you.” You wrapped an arm around his waist, tousling Eisner’s hair.

Felix leaned over, kissing the top of your head. “Let me head back to the office to finish up a few things, then the rest of my day is yours.”

“Shall I take Eisner until you-”

“No, no. Best she come with me. Wouldn’t want her to start crying again while she’s waiting for her favorite parent to come back.”

“...On second thought, maybe we don’t want you to stay with-”

“Too late! It’s been decided.” He grinned, turning on his heel with his giggling little daughter in tow. “Come along, Eisner. Let’s take care of business.”

You shook your head in disbelief, watching the man you married march from the room with a babbling baby in tow. 

Whether he admitted it or not, he was over the moon that Eisner was so comforted by her father. And he would gladly cross oceans and mountains just to dry her tears. A little sprint across the monastery was nothing.

“How much longer do you think it’ll take?” He looked up when a particularly sharp cry broke through the heavy oak doors. Frederick’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“Peace, Lord Chrom. Labor can sometimes last up to 24 hours. It may be that she was particularly fortunate when Princess Lucina’s labor ended so quickly. This is a normal part of the process.”

“But this is…gods, it sounds like agony. Are you sure I can’t go-”

“No, milord.” Frederick immediately shut down Chrom’s eighth attempt at asking for entry. “Need I remind you again the behavior that resulted in your permanent ban?”

“...No, I know.”

The Exalt had lasted all of an hour before he nearly took Maribelle’s head off for what he perceived to be the healer torturing his wife. When in reality she was performing a routine exam…but poor Chrom was so panicked about your health that it escalated extremely quickly.

That was the secondary (and perhaps more important) reason why Frederick was stationed at Chrom’s side. For much needed moral support, certainly, but to prevent Chrom from doing anything else foolish in the name of protecting his wife.

It was a noble endeavor, certainly, but it was equally boneheaded.

“Perhaps we ought to take a walk, milord. Something to clear your mind for a little while.”

Chrom shook his head, arms crossed tight against his chest. “I can’t. I need to be here. I can’t deliver the baby, I can’t be in the room-- there’s nothing I can do for Robin right now except be near her.” 

It was difficult to argue with that, and Frederick knew that saying “you might as well just go to your office down the hall and work” wouldn’t result in anything other than an annoyed glare.

So they waited. 

And waited.

Another two hours passed before any real progress was made-- and even then, he was still barred from entry. The queen had begun to push. The baby was on its way. Morgan was almost here.

Lissa was the one to tell him, coming out of the delivery room breathless and sweaty. She had a bucket in dire need of fresh water, which Chrom offered to take care of (quickly denied given his past actions).

“She’s fully dilated, so it won’t be long. Maybe thirty minutes of pushing at the most, but the light’s at the end of the tunnel!” Lissa said with a tired grin. 

“How is she? Have there been any complications?” Chrom asked first and foremost. 

“Mercifully she’s doing perfectly fine. No weird situations have cropped up in the last several hours, so I doubt anything will happen right at the end. We’re keeping a really close eye on her Chrom, don’t worry.”

Chrom sighed heavily, but nodded all the same. “I know...she couldn’t be in better hands. Thank you for helping deliver Morgan too.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t trust her with anybody else! Besides, if I’m helping then I get to hold my nephew before anybody else.” She giggled. 

Chrom resisted the urge to flick her forehead. “You’re helping because Robin trusts you-- but if that’s the real reason you’re doing it you know she’s going to kick you out, too!”

“Like she’d believe you over the healer who brought both her children into the world.” Lissa rolled her eyes, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to taking care of your wife.”

“Right…yes, of course. Go on.” Chrom waved her off, and would have to wait a while longer.

Lissa would come out of the room twice more, each time looking more excited and exhausted at the same time than her last exit.

At some point Frederick left Chrom’s side long enough to bring him some food.

He’d made it about halfway through a roll he couldn’t taste when all the noise inside the room suddenly stopped.

Frederick and Chrom both tensed, realizing what it meant.

“It’s…”

“I believe the worst of it…is over, milord.” Frederick took the plate before Chrom suddenly standing resulted in shattered glass.

Chrom stood in front of the door, shifting anxiously from foot to foot while he waited for good news. He could hear muffled cries, a sound he hadn’t heard since his daughter was born three years ago.

“Gods, I nearly forgot! Could you get Lucina? She’s going to want to meet Morgan first- let her know that her brother’s here!” 

“Right away, milord.” He smiled softly at the excitement in Chrom’s voice. Lucina would surely be thrilled to finally meet the little one she heard so much about, after all.

Shortly after Frederick left, the door opened. Once again Lissa appeared, a relieved smile on her face. 

“Is Robin-?”

“She’s fine, Chrom. Have a little faith.” Lissa joked. 

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Chrom huffed, “Come on, how is she?”

“She’s absolutely fine- a lot more exhausted than last time, but I don’t blame her.” She said cryptically, her gaze shifting away from him. “You should know, there was a small situation.”

“What?”

Static filled his ears.

“...What?”

“It’s not like that.” She put her hands on his shoulders to steady him, “But…did Morgan ever mention anything to you about another sibling?”

Chrom’s brow furrowed. “No, never-- but he also had amnesia. He didn’t know me or Lucina, remember?”

“That’s right…” She clicked her tongue, “Well, you should know that Morgan’s not the only one in there with Robin, right now.” 

“What? Who’s…” He trailed off, having found your gaze past the princess in the doorway. You smiled at him, barely able to lift your head from the pillows, but waved a tired hand for him to enter. 

Lissa stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in at last. With a shaking breath he strode inside. He closed the distance in the blink of an eye. The first thing he did was lean down and kiss you.

“Robin…” He ignored the blushing faces of healers on the other side of the bed, devoid of any decorum now that the worst was over. “My love, how do you feel?”

“Like I gave birth.” Your voice was hoarse, but your humor was fully in tact. Chrom responded with something between a choked laugh and a sob. “I’m all right.” 

“I’m so relieved. You’ve done so well.” His praise was received with a gentle hand on his cheek, prompting him to kneel at the bedside rather than lean over his dearest one.

He held your wrist gently, and leaned into your touch with a grateful smile. 

“Is Morgan all right? Lissa said everything went well, but I thought you’d know better.” 

You made an odd face, and cast a glance to the bassinet waiting at the far end of the room. “Well, Morgan is, yes…did Lissa tell you?”

“She mentioned a situation, and asked if Morgan recalled having another sibling.” He recounted, and you nodded.

“Well…it turns out we had a pleasant surprise during delivery.” You mused as you nodded towards the bassinet. Chrom watched the clerics, their bodies blocking the baby currently being tended. Though why Morgan needed two healers, he wasn’t sure. Unless…

His eyes grew wide.

“No.”

You nodded, resisting the urge to laugh at the total shock on his face. His mouth was hanging open, unable to tear his eyes from the healers still at work, blocking the little one. The little ones.

“Robin-” His throat was tight, his grip tightening on your wrist. “H-he’s…they’re…he has a twin?”

You stroked his cheek tenderly, “A twin sister.”

Chrom nearly dissolved into tears then and there. A twin sister. A son and a daughter.

“Oh, gods. Oh my gods.” His hand came to his mouth, trying and failing to stop the waterworks. “I-I don’t believe it…another little princess…!” 

“I had a name planned for Morgan, but…I don’t think we ever discussed the possibility of…of if it was a girl.” You yawned, which pulled his attention back to you.

He took your hand from his face, kissing your knuckles once, twice before holding your hand to his heart. 

“N-no, my love, I don’t believe we did. What are we going to do?”

“I suppose we’ll have to come up with one on the spot.” 

“I’ve never been particularly good at thinking on my feet.” He admitted, “What are we supposed to name our second daughter?”

“Perhaps you ought to meet her first; then you can come up with something.” Lissa chimed, returning to close the doors behind her. “The instant I held my baby boy in my arms, oh, it was obvious what his name was! Future me must've known it, too.” 

“It does,” You agreed, giggling softly. “Chrom…would you be a dear and help me up a bit?” 

“Of course,” He motioned for Lissa’s help. The two of you very carefully eased you into a semi-sitting position, leaned back against the pillows now propped securely behind you.

Chrom sat dutifully on the bed beside you, putting a supportive arm around your shoulders once you were settled in place.

“Milady, milord…are you ready to see the children, now?” One of the clerics asked. When you both looked up, you found warm smiles on both their faces, and arms full with two very handsome bundles.

You shared an anxious, excited look. Chrom held out his other arm. “Yes, we would love to.”

The clerics gingerly passed the babies to you both. If Chrom had successfully held the tears back before, he couldn’t stop them now.

A baby girl was nestled into his arms. She had soft blue hair and a tiny copy of her mother’s nose. 

“Ah…wow…” He sniffed, squeezing her close. The king had a difficult time trying to look at his daughter and his son, who his wife was happily fawning over.

“Look at you…a little prince, just like the paintings of his papa.” You hummed, “It’s so nice to meet you, Morgan.”

“Morgan…” Chrom echoed, and carefully leaned over to steal a peek at his son. His hair and nose matched his sister's exactly. He breathed a laugh. “They’re definitely identical twins.”

“Are they?” You marveled at your youngest daughter. Proudly you beamed at her, and offered a finger for her to take. “It’s so nice to meet you, too, little one.” 

The baby girl grumbled, squeezing the strange, warm object in her hand. Chrom delicately stroked her hair, cradling her head with the reverance of a proud father who never could have imagined he’d have this beautiful moment again.

You rested your head on his shoulder with a happy sigh. He looked down at you, smiling to himself. 

“I fear I do not have enough arms. I cannot hold all of you at once!” 

“And it will be worse once Lucina comes.”

“Of course…! I sent Frederick to bring her to meet Morgan. She will be thrilled when she finds out that she has a little sister, too!”

“She will need a name if she is to be properly introduced, my love.” You reminded him.

You wiggled your finger, and she sneezed. Both of her parents laughed, delighted.

“My goodness! She is much more lively than Morgan…I worry that means she’ll be more wild.”

“Morgan is simply polite…and fast asleep.” You observed, giving the baby boy a soft squeeze. Chrom's heart swelled with pride. “Perhaps they shall be wild together.”

“Then they should have names that go together, too.” He decided. Her eyes flitted open, not quite able to see what was in front of her.

“Hmm…Melina?”

“Not quite,” You squinted at her, considering it. “Perhaps Morwena?”

“Morgan and Morwena? I think they’re a little too similar.” 

“Morgana?”

“Don’t tease me.” 

“Apologies,” You giggled, nudging him playfully. “Try another one.”

“Mariana?”

“No, perhaps…Mikaela?”

“Marcelina?”

A thoughtful hum.

“How about Marc?”

“Marc?” His eyebrows rose, “That’s…an ambiguous name for a princess, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s perfect.” You sighed, holding Morgan up so that he snoozed right beside his twin sister. “Look at them…Morgan and Marc.”

“Huh.” Chrom smiled to himself, looking at his beautiful newborns. “When you say it like that, it suits her.” 

“Prince Morgan and Princess Marc…second and third-born of the House of Ylisse. A magnificent pair, indeed.” 

“We do an excellent job when it comes to children, don’t we?” Chrom’s arm came around you once more, drawing you in as close as he possibly could.

You received the kiss on your forehead with a happy hum. “I couldn’t agree more…though it occurs to me that two children does mean double the workload, and feeding, and changing…”

“Nothing we haven’t done before. And I won’t let you face it alone. Nor will our many available staff, my sister, Frederick…”

“Good point. Shall I leave the first shift to you then, dear?” You asked behind a yawn. Chrom kissed you again, skillfully taking the baby into his arms so he had both his bundles of joy safe and secure.

“I would be glad to. Get some rest. You certainly deserve it.” He murmured. 

To your credit, sleep just started to creep in. But Lucina’s excited laughter woke you right back up when she burst into the room and made a beeline for her parents.

Poor Frederick apologized between gasps for breath- she could be a blue blur when the moment called for it.

The three-year-old waddle-sprinted over to her parents, trying unsuccessfully to climb onto the bed while your husband attempted to quiet her down to protect the peace.

You delayed your sleep for a little while longer. Just so you could watch Chrom introduce the children to their most precious elder sister.

You fought it long enough to see Lucina hold them with Chrom’s help, grinning at you and making sure you were watching her, too.

“Oh,” You blinked, shaking your head as you came around. “I-I’m happy! I just wasn’t expecting that news all of a sudden.”

“None of us were, dear. I thought Lucina and Morgan’s age gap would be a bit more significant; they did seem further apart in age from the future. But I suppose a nearly five year age gap is plenty.”

“Yes, well…it doesn’t feel like that long ago Lucina was just a teeny tiny blueberry, to me. It definitely feels a lot more sudden to me than to you.”

“I haven’t been a blueberry in forever!” Lucina protested, cheeks puffed, “Besides, how does Auntie Mari know that it’s a baby brother? It could be a baby sister!” 

Maribelle chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re right, dear. A simple slip of the tongue. It very well could be a baby sister!”

“Yeah! A sister named Broccoli.”

“A- what?”

You snorted, biting back a laugh. Hearing such things from a child you knew would grow up to be a very serious and dignified young woman was entertaining, if nothing else.

“I think Princess Broccoli would be a fine name for your little sister.” You agreed, winking at Maribelle. “Well…thank you for telling me, Maribelle. I assume it’ll be the same protocol as when we expected Lucina?”

“We may need to get you some additional supplements and adjust your pregnancy routine since it’s been a few years; I’ll schedule you for a more thorough exam in a few days. I’ll alert the royal chefs to change your diet accordingly. In the meantime, be sure to get plenty of rest. I'm sure Lord Chrom will be over the moon with the news, but don't let him get too excited.”

“Yes…I’m sure you’re right.” You smiled to yourself, already imagining the big red blush on his cheeks and his laughter. 

He was floored when you told him you were pregnant with Lucina, nearly sweeping you off your feet (though he had joined you for that doctor’s appointment since he was terribly worried…Maribelle scolded him harshly when he almost spun you around).

“Come along, Luci. We need to plan how we’re going to tell Papa about the new baby.” Lucina grasped your hand, following you out of the medical wing.

However, your plan would be a little more complex than just informing him of the news. No, you had a sneaky little plot; one you would’ve used if he hadn’t been with you the first time.

Yes, you were going to be very cute about it.

“Robin, I’m back!” Chrom announced his return from the twenty-third meeting of the day, well past sundown. Lucina bounced up to him first, launching herself into her father’s arms.

“Papa!” 

“Hello, darling.” He kissed her cheek, holding her to his chest as he wandered into the royal chambers.

You were at your desk (of course), scribbling away in your nightdress and looking as beautiful as ever. You stole a glance as he made his way to you, offering a warm smile.

“Welcome home, Chrom.” 

“You look busy-- I hope you’re not planning on working through the night.” His tone was only slightly concerned, not unusual when you were toiling away even after the Exalt finished his duties.

“Not at all. I’m just preparing some documents for when my duties change in a few months.”

“Your duties are changing?” Chrom quirked an eyebrow, “I wasn’t informed of this. I thought I was the first to be informed of such a thing.”

“Oh, you will be. These aren’t to go out for another week or two, at least. Hopefully you’ll know by then.”

“Know what?” He questioned. Lucina giggled, and his attention shifted to his daughter’s mischievous little smile. “What do you know, Luci?”

“It’s a secret. I can’t tell you, Papa.” She said firmly, wiggling from his arms and jumping to the floor. “Mama’s the only one who can tell you!”

“A secret that only Mama can tell me, huh?” Chrom watched her scamper out of the room, presumably to play in her own bedroom until the nursemaids put her to bed.

Chrom circled the desk, sitting beside you against the tabletop. You shrugged, not looking up from your paperwork.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what she’s talking about, dear. Terribly sorry.”

“Are you going to tell me what those letters say?” He reached for one, which you swiftly covered with your hands. Chrom’s eyes sparkled, sensing a game was afoot. “What are you plotting, my queen?”

“Well, it would be a lie if I said there was ‘nothing’ going on, but…I think it might be more entertaining if I let you try to solve the puzzle yourself.”

“And what might that puzzle be?”

“If I tell you what it is then that defeats the purpose of the puzzle, genius.” You tapped his nose with your quill, before rising from your seat to meet your husband eye to eye.

Chrom slipped his arms around your waist, gazing at you with those adoring eyes that hadn’t changed even all these years later.

“Very well, then…do I at least get a hint or two?” He rested his forehead against yours, warm blue eyes bringing a dust of pink blush to your cheeks. 

“I suppose I could give you…one hint.” You relented, “I’ve had to make changes to my schedule once before, because of something that’s also happened before.”

“Hm. Vague, but not unexpected. You’ve always enjoyed forcing me to think harder than I want to.”

“To be fair, you don’t think very hard unless you have to.”

“Gods, I’ve been home for five minutes and you’re already bullying me? Show a little mercy, love.”

“But you’re so fun to bully.” You laughed, kissing his nose in spite of the pout on his lips. You gently pulled away, heading to the washroom. “Hurry and get changed; we’ve got a busy day tomorrow and you look like you need some time to relax.”

“Ugh, I almost forgot. Why must diplomacy be so demanding of our time?” He sighed, dreading the marathon of meetings on his docket, tomorrow.

He remained at your desk until you disappeared from view, and subtly reached for the letters you had left. 

“Now, let’s see what secret you’re hiding…”

‘To my dearest, beloved husband,

You didn’t really think I’d leave the secret out in the open like that, did you?’

He looked at the other letter,

‘Seriously, Chrom, this is so embarrassing.

With love, your dearest, darling wife’

Chrom sighed, crumpling up the papers. When you emerged from the washroom you would be struck by two paper balls, followed by Chrom sticking his tongue out at you and the two of you falling onto the bed in a mess of teasing, laughter and much needed cuddles.

The quest to reveal your secret was forgotten for the night.

Unfortunately for Chrom, the top secret revelation was still yet to be discovered in spite of his best efforts.

Every now and then you would send him to perform odd tasks, like partaking in the royal kitchen’s inspection one week. Frederick was thrilled Chrom was joining him for such an important occasion, but when all he discovered was a singular roll oddly placed inside the oven, he was only confused.

Frederick had an odd smile on his lips, which he did not explain. Chrom assumed Frederick was also in on this secret of yours.

Following thiat, Chrom was met by Virion and Cherche, who had come from Rosanne to discuss important happenings in local politics. And of course, to introduce the royal couple to thei brand new little osn, young Gerome.

“My, my! Who knew the dark and brooding Gerome would have been such a sweet baby!” You cooed, cradling the four-month-old who gurgled happily in your arms.

“How could he be anything but perfect when he has the Archest of Archers as his father? And of course, the perfect woman as his mother.” He had his arm around Cherche, which she only allowed such a brazen display since you were in the royal chambers; and in the presence of a bouncy little princess who adored romance.

“You have a good point. But are you sure you’re all right, Cherche? Traveling across the ocean with a baby must have been incredibly taxing. Even if it was only a couple of weeks, I couldn’t fathom bringing such a little one with me.”

“I could’ve gone on a big boat with you, Mama!” Lucina protested, her chin on your shoulder to watch the baby wiggling in your arms. 

“I don’t think so, darling. I doubt Papa would’ve allowed both of us anywhere near a boat if you were this little.”

“Absolutely right- if the queen and the princess were spirited away by mermaids, I fear my heart would break.” Chrom sighed dramatically. Lucina gasped, crawling over your lap to grasp Chrom’s face.

“Don’t worry, Papa! I’m friends with mermaids! They’d bring Baby Luci back safe and sound.”

“That’s a relief.” Chrom smiled at her, settling her in his lap. “But Robin’s got a point, Cherche. It’s only been a few months since Gerome was born. You didn’t push yourself too hard, did you?”

“Not at all; our son was a mercifully peaceful birth, and he has been quite a calm baby. He handled travel quite well. His father, on the other hand…” She glanced over at her husband, who adjusted his cravat indignantly.

“I told you, amour-- t’was the poorly prepared dinner that had my stomach in disarray! I have never been seasick before. It would be quite ungentlemanly.”

“And yet you were seasick.”

“Amour, please.”

Cherche’s giggle was like sweet chiming bells, which drew a similar laugh from her handsome baby boy. You squeezed him close, leaning into Chrom’s side.

“Your son has the blessings of Ylisse’s royal family. If the two of you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to send for us. We’re overjoyed your family has grown, at last!” 

“Speaking of families growing,” Virion smiled at Lucina, who was now focused on petting Gerome’s super soft baby hair, “Are we to expect a young prince in the near future? I have noticed more and more of our friends and allies have all seen their families grow, but I believe our favorite royal couple have yet to finish their work.”

“Oh, you mean-” Chrom coughed, glancing at his wife. “Well, we haven’t discussed when we wanted to have him in this time, yet. But it is certainly on our minds!” 

“Indeed.”

“We’ve just been adjusting to Robin’s return home, so we didn’t want to rush anything.”

“Precisely, no rushing here.” You echoed, “Though we’ll definitely be seeing him sooner rather than later.”

“Exactly, Robin. We- wait, what?”

Cherche and Virion’s expressions shifted to surprise, mirroring Chrom’s dumbfounded look. But you simply shrugged, keeping your eyes on the little one. Lucina giggled behind her hands.

“I just said we’ll be seeing him sooner rather than later.”

“R-right, but what did you mean by that?”

“What do you think I mean by that, dear?”

Chrom looked to Virion and Cherche, the couple cheekily avoiding his confused gaze while he tried to put the pieces together. 

“I…If I knew that’s what you wanted, I-I would’ve gladly-- but our guests are here, I dn’t know if we should-”

“That’s not what I meant.” You laughed, nudging his shoulder as he stumbled through what he thought you were proposing. Chrom buried his face in his hands, embarrassed at the thoughts that had eagerly rushed through his mind.

“I suppose we should take our leave soon, mon ange. It seems the young royal couple has some important things to discuss, non?”

“There’s nothing to discuss, friends. Please, stay as late as you like. The longer Gerome naps before the journey home, the better.”

Chrom glanced at you, confused. If that wasn’t what you meant, then you wouldn’t be telling your guests to stay late. You would want to usher them out as soon as possible so the two of you could…

Ugh, he needed to schedule a visit to the cathedral; clearly his thoughts were had grown quite impure in recent weeks.

Lucina was waiting for her mother to retrieve her from her private tutor in the library, where she was every afternoon. Kicking her feet back and forth while she hummed, flipping through one of her favorite almanacs and plotting where her first adventures around the world would be.

Valm would be a good start: Auntie Say’ri talked about how delicious the food was in Chon’sin all the time, after all.

“There you are, Luci.” Chrom’s hushed voice broke through the reverent silence of the library, drawing his daughter’s sparkling eyes as he walked up to her table.

She clapped the almanac shut, hurrying up to her father and hugging his legs.

“Hi, Papa!” 

“Quietly, darling. I’m here to take you to dinner.” He picked her up, pecking her cheek.

“What? But Mama always picks me up!”

“I see…should I leave you here and wait for her to come get you, instead?”

“No! I’m so happy you’re here, Papa!”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He bounced her gently, taking up her almanac and returning it to the shelf before heading for the doors. “Besides, I wanted to speak to you about something very important.”

“What is it, Papa?”

“It’s about Mama’s secret.” He replied, and she nodded, brow furrowing with seriousness.

“The secret I can’t tell you because Mama said not to?”

“The very same…but what if you could tell me the secret?”

“...Did Mama say I could?” 

“Not in so many words,” Meaning not at all, but he kept that to himself, “But I was hoping you might be willing to share the secret for the right price.” 

“I don’t know, Papa…Mama didn’t say I could tell you if I bought something from you.”

“She doesn’t have to know you told me-- nor does she have to know about whatever sort of present I give you for telling me.”

Lucina gasped, scandalized. “You mean telling the secret without telling Mama? B-but what if she finds out?”

“She won’t find out, I promise!” He assured her, slowing to a stop in the corridor. He sighed heavily, “I wouldn’t be asking you to tell me if I absolutely didn’t have to. But I’ve tried to guess what it is for weeks, and none of her hints have added up!”

“Really? What hints?” Lucina questioned innocently, intrigued by the troubled expression Chrom wore. He rarely looked so stressed in front of her, after all. Seeing Papa without a smile was deeply troubling.

“Well,” He set her down on the nearby windowsill, and put his hands on his hips. “Firstly, it was that odd kitchen inspection she had me attend, and then the comment she made to Uncle Virion and Aunt Cherche.”

“Mm-hmm, I ‘member.”

“And two weeks ago, she told me she was retiring from her duties early so she could attend some knitting classes with Sir Frederick. But she hasn’t knitted since you were a baby, and even then the socks she made for you were a little rough around the edges.”

“I still have the special Mama socks. They don’t fit my feet anymore, though-- I got too big.” She giggled, recalling the socks that had funny little holes where her tiny toes once poked through (and Chrom definitely didn’t tease his wife over, not once). 

“Right- so there hasn’t been a reason for her to try knitting again, and she hasn’t expressed any interest in picking it back up until now, all of a sudden…and she did tell me that was also a hint when I asked why she was resuming the lessons.”

“Any other hints?” Lucina mimicked her father’s pensive pose. 

He thought for a moment, “She told me that she had a follow-up appointment in the medical wing, which I thought was a bit odd since she was just there last week.”

“That is odd, Papa. What do you think it means?”

Chrom sighed again, flummoxed. “I haven’t the slightest clue, dear. Which is why I need your help. If you could tell me what the secret is, then I don’t have to worry about your Mama anymore. And you don’t want me to worry about Mama, right?”

“No, that would be bad…” She agreed, “Fine, Papa. I’ll tell you the secret.”

She gestured for him to come closer, cupping her hands around her mouth to whisper the secret in his ears. Eagerly he leaned in, ready for this cloud over his head to finally be swept away by the truth.

“The secret is that Mama has-”

“Chrom!” 

The king nearly hit the ceiling, jumping away from his daughter when he heard your sharp voice. You strode up to him, pointing an accusatory finger at him in a way only the queen could without it being treasonous.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I-I was just getting Lucina from her lessons-”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought she’d gotten lost, or worse! You should’ve told me you wanted to get her, instead! What were you thinking?”

You plucked Lucina from the windowsill, who stared at her father in shock.

“You didn’t tell Mama you were gonna get me?”

“Well, no-”

“Honestly! I can’t fathom what was going through your head, unless-” You paused, eyes narrowed. Chrom did his best to avert his gaze, but you stared into his very soul. “You were going to ask Lucina about something, weren’t you? Something you didn’t want me to know you were asking about!”

“Wow, Mama! How’d you know?”

“Lucina…” Chrom groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Don’t blame her, Your Majesty. She’s every right to tell her mother the truth. That’s why she got to know the secret, and you didn’t.”

“Not ‘Your Majesty’,” Chrom deflated; that title meant he was deeper trouble than he first thought. “C’mon, Robin! I’ve tried to figure out the secret, but nothing’s making sense! Please, you must tell me- the suspense is killing me!”

“If you haven’t figured it out now, then all the more reason not to tell you. Especially if you would stoop so low as to steal our daughter in an attempt to extort her for the answer.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds awful.”

“When you scare me half to death, that’s what you get.” You huffed, turning your chin up and swiveling away from him. “Now hurry up and get ready for dinner- Lucina and I are going to get a headstart`. Maribelle told me I needed to start eating more, anyways.”

“Huh?" Chrom’s embarrassment was brought to a pause with sudden concern. He quickly caught up with you, though your expression remained indignant. “Why would she tell you that? Have you not been eating well?”

“In the mornings, I’ve been feeling a bit sick, yes. But you’re usually in a meeting, so I guess you weren’t there to notice- and I don't blame you for that, by the way.” You were quick to add, not seeking to pile on guilt over something he couldn't control.

“Oh, Robin, I’m sorry…I didn’t realize. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it has to do with the secret, of course.” 

“Of course.” He repeated, all but rolling his eyes. “Robin, if you’re ill, I don’t care about a secret-- you can’t hide that from me! What if your health gets worse and I’m not there to take care of you? I'll never forgive myself if something happens to you, after everything.”

“I know, love.” Your voice softened, relinquishing your pride to squeeze his hand. “I wouldn’t hide it from you if it were actually serious. I’m still eating fine, I’m just having a bit of nausea in the mornings. But Maribelle told me it won’t last much longer.”

“Is that why you went to see her again so recently?”

“Partially, yes.” 

“What was the other part?”

“Think on it, dear. Think good and hard. Try to piece everything together.” You insisted, “And while you’re doing that, we’ll get ready for dinner. Sound good?”

It sounded good, he supposed, but despite his best efforts he couldn’t come to a conclusive answer.

Chrom tried his damndest, guessing all throughout dinner what it could possibly be. But you turned down each of his answers; which he could tell was disappointing you more and more with each wrong answer.

It did make him question his own intelligence…but his personal embarrassment at his occasional dense behavior wouldn’t last much longer.

That night, the two of you went to bed, sinking into the mattress with the exhaustion of young parents and important regents combined. Chrom pulled you into his chest, your back pressed tight against him.

He did so relish being as close to you as possible. It was a luxury he hadn’t been afforded for far too long. You were so soft, and so warm. 

Chrom smiled softly, half asleep. He snuggled closer, his hands slipping from your side to your middle. 

Suddenly, you were no longer soft. Chrom’s brow furrowed, eyes cracked open. Your stomach wasn’t just toned; it was firm.

Almost hard. 

Tentatively his fingers pressed against your stomach. A hum with the cadence of a question slipped from your lips, and you tilted your head towards him.

“Chrom? What are you doing?”

“Your stomach…it’s…why is it...?”

“Don’t press too hard, dear.” 

Chrom rose from the bed, lighting the oil lamp on his bedside table with great urgency. Things were starting to come together in his mind, all at once.

The strange behaviors of the past weeks swirled in his mind. The kitchen inspection- no, the bun in the oven. The knitting lessons, Lucina's little socks, the comments, the appointments--

And your suddenly tight tummy, which hadn’t happened since you were-

“Robin, a-are you…are you pregnant?!”

You yawned, slowly pushing yourself up to sit beside your husband. You were infuriatingly calm for the revelation Chrom just pieced together.

But with a sleepy smile, and the sweetest honeyglow in your eyes, you confirmed his hopeful suspicions with three simple words.

“I’m expecting, Chrom.”

He felt as though his heart shot to the sky.

“Robin!!”

You laughed when Chrom nearly tackled you into a hug, engulfing you in an embrace filled with surprised laughter.

“Y-you’re pregnant?? Truly??”

“Maribelle confirmed I was a few weeks ago. I’m halfway through the third month as we speak…almost done with the first trimester.”

“T-then the nausea- your morning sickness!! Just like with Lucina, back then!” He realized, a hand to his mouth, “Gods, why didn’t I piece it together sooner?! What a fool I’ve been-”

“It’s all right, Chrom. It’s my fault for trying to be cute with it and making it harder than I should’ve. But…to be honest, it has been incredibly adorable seeing how difficult it was for you to piece together.”

“I should be mad at you for keeping this from me for so long, but…I-I just can’t bring myself to it.”

“You can punish me for my foul behavior in the morning. It’s only fair.” You promised, “Oh, dear.”

The teasing came to a pause when you saw the tears spilling down Chrom’s cheeks, the sweet man simply overwhelmed by the news. You cupped his face, tenderly wiping away the droplets as they fell.

“Forgive me, I-- I just can’t believe you’re pregnant, again. Our own Morgan, he’s finally…” He trailed off, trying desperately to keep it together. “I-I’ve longed to see our son born in this time, but just having you home was such a blessing I didn’t dare ask for more ever since you returned. Knowing that you’re…that he’s…”

“You deserve the world and more, my love.” You kissed him, stealing more than a few from him while he worked to regain his composure. “I don’t think Naga would’ve blamed you for requesting your son in this time, too.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” He covered your hands with his, leaning into your touch. Just when you thought he couldn’t possibly love you more, those ocean eyes of his were overflowing with an even deeper emotion you couldn’t describe.

“I suppose not. Morgan’s already on his way.” You confirmed again, and he choked out a laugh.

He drew your hands to his chest, heart thundering with joy. And he captured your li ps in n urgent kiss, far more longing than those you had just given him.

No, little pecks simply wouldn’t do. 

He wrapped his arms around you again, drawing you flush to his chest. He buried his face in your hair and squeezed you close.

I’m so happy, Robin. I’m so, so happy…! I-I can’t wait to go on thi sjourney with you again…to see our son for the very first time…gods, do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“Surely not as much as I love you.” He shook his head, drawing back to find the mistiness had  pooled in your eyes now, too. 

“I’m so happy, Robin.” He beamed, holding you close. “Gods, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight- we must celebrate!”

“We can celebrate first thing in the morning, my love…but I’m afraid I need sleep while I’ve got this little one growing.” Your hand rested on your middle; as if Chrom’s heart needed to soar any higher into the stratosphere.

“Oh, yes, of course! Of course-- please, try to sleep. Even if I can’t, I can at least make sure you do.” Chrom ushered you back down into the blankets. He made sure you were wrapped up snug in his arms, resting your head on his chest. “Please let me know if I’m holding you too tight- it may be difficult to release you, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be than right here.” You whispered, cuddling up to your husband with no intention of going anywhere else.

Chrom was true to his word; he stayed up the entire night, incapable of sleep when there was so much planning to do for the coming newborn!

But when morning finally came, he was the first out of bed, kissing your forehead before near leaping out of bed and catching his daughter in the doorway, spinning her around with the exciting news that she had a little brother on the way!

In the grogginess of your waking, yuou swore you heard something about ‘Princess Broccoli’ between delighted squeals and joyous laughter. You watched from the warm lankets, Chrom celebrating with his rambunctious little girl over the wonderful secret he’d finally put together.

So you surrendered to your fate, knowing Seteth would not be in bed that night. He remained buried in paperwork until he had to join you at some ceremony or gathering or whatever was expected of such an important public servant.

Since the war's end two years ago, this was your life. But unlike Seteth, you had reached a point where you could carve out peaceful times of day, and could get more than four hours of sleep at night.

While the reconstruction of Fodlan was top priority for most of that time, the demand of the job had finally started to slow down.

Seteth could also afford to slow down now, you thought. If the Archbishop could find time to breathe, surely her second in command could, too.

Such was your reasoning while heading to his office one rainy afternoon.

The weather was dull and dreary; perfect for an afternoon nap. With your own duties cleared until later that night, you planned to have Seteth join you.

A couple inquiries along the way confirmed he was toiling away in the office. When you arrived, the closed doors did not deter you.

Two polite raps against them didn’t get a response. You sighed to yourself; he was definitely buried deep in his work.

Testing the handle led it to open without resistance. And the scene that greeted you was your beloved…buried under the parchment, as always.

“Forgive the intrustion…may I come in?”

Your voice did the trick. His hunched shoulders suddenly straightened, brows raised when sharp green eyes locked on yours.

“Byleth!” His surprise gave way to a pleasant smile, “Apologies, I didn’t hear the door. By all means, come in.” 

“Thank you,” The doors clicked shut behind you. Seteth rose from his chair with a stretch that resulted in an audible pop- startling you both.

“I take it you’ve not stood up in a while, dear?”

“Perhaps I’ve been sat here longer than I thought.” He replied, sheepish from his body’s complaint. “Nothing some stretches can’t fix.”

“Would you consider taking a break?” You asked as he rounded the desk, leaned against the wood frame. He opened an arm to welcome you to his side, which you were glad to accept. 

It was something of an open secret that you were together. You maintained a polite distance in front of students, but behind closed doors you could be a bit more affectionate.

Well, as much as Seteth would allow before his shyness got the better of him.

For now, though, you were glad to settle against him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“...Hm. You feel a little thinner, Seteth. Have you been eating properly?

“Well-” He hesitated, though he grew flustered when you glared. “I have not missed any meals on purpose! I simply…you know.”

“I can see how that might have happened.” You gestured to the stacks of parchment all around you. “...Are you certain I can’t take some of this off your hands? This is far more paperwork than any one man should do. Especially if it’s interfering with your health.”

“I have suffered through worse, I assure you.” He sighed, “But I would be lying if I said this wasn’t a bit overwhelming.”

“So I can help?”

“No, no. It’s fine, I assure you. It simply means I must work harder to clear it away!”

“Dearest…” You felt him shift under your warning tone. “You've been working hard for several days. I suspected you were overdoing it again, but now it’s clear. Which means you don’t get to say no to any of my plans for the day.”

“Oh, no. You have plans for us?” He frowned, dreading the derailment of his schedule. “I have several deadlines due tonight, Byleth. I cannot afford to shirk my duties. And if I recall correctly, you have meetings this evening.”

“I do- which is why my plot need only occur this afternoon.” 

“...Plot?”

“Indeed. My plot to drag you to bed and nap with me.”

“Nap-?” He repeated with a scoff. You pulled back to look at him indignantly. “We aren't children! Why would we do that?”

“Because you hardly come to bed at a decent hour, and I haven’t seen you outside of meetings in days. You are gone before I wake, and you’re in bed after I’m asleep-- assuming there are days you get there, at all!” 

“I suppose…you are not wrong, but-”

“I want to spend time with you outside our obligations. Not just for me, mind you, but because you need to before the work finally buries you!”

Seteth did attempt to brush off your warning, though it was ineffective.

“I would love to spend time with you too, dearest, honestly. But I need to prioritize some of this before I even think of doing anything else. Would you be open to a compromise?”

“A compromise?” You echoed, “What do you have in mind?”

“If you’ll allow me one hour to finish my more pressing tasks, I swear to set aside the rest of my afternoon for you. Is that amenable?”

“...And it will be a single hour, nothing more?” You stepped closer, your hands on either side of him against the desk. 

You were awfully close- he felt slightly trapped.

“Yes…not a second more. Then I will be wholly yours to force into a nap, even if it is unnecessary.”

Your eyes narrowed, assessing his offer. “...Very well. I accept your terms.” 

He hummed in surprise when you kissed him then, sealing the deal with a teasing little peck.

At least he thought it was; then the floor fell out from under him.

The hum turned into a muffled squawk when you pinned his arms over his head.

In a single move you swiped his legs from the ground with one boot, and pressed your chest atop his, pinned fully against the desk.

When you broke the kiss, you were so close your noses touched.

You were both blushing, but where there was confusion, excitement and a hint of fear in his eyes- yours were much more dangerous and calculating.

“...But it would be unwise to keep me waiting.”

You released him as suddenly as you toppled him.

It was as if he blinked and you were across the room, already moving to open the door.

He was still leaned against the desk, though more out of fear his knees would give out if he did not. And the discomfort in his trousers was--

“I will see you in an hour, dear.” You smiled as if nothing happened.

He stumbled to his feet, just as the door opened wide and saw students walking past. 

He could only nod, and watch lamely as you disappeared from the room.  He was rooted to the spot, utterly stunned by your daring behavior. The excitement swirling in his head-- gods, had he actually enjoyed you pinning him like-

He shook his head violently, banishing the impure thoughts from his mind.

No, he would not allow himself to be distracted from his work. He had negotiated an hour, so he would fill that hour properly!

Numbly he sank back into his seat, and the quill returned to his trembling hand.

‘Work for the hour…use the full hour, otherwise Byleth will…’ 

The image of Byleth pinning him to the bed flashed in his mind.

He'd barely made it through a single sentence before he rocketed up from the desk.

He made a beeline for the door and strode after his minx of a wife. There would be a conversation about proper etiquette and intimiate behavior in his office late, but he had much more pressing matters to deal with.

Perhaps his work could wait an hour longer, after all.

…Perhaps until tomorrow.

Hubert’s breath had stopped for a full ten seconds before he was able to come up with that response. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, unsure what to make of your sudden storming into the room with such news.

But you shook your head. “I do not jest, Hubert. Linhardt confirmed it today.” 

“Is that where you went?”

Hubert rose from his seat, palms flat on his desk. Certainly not because he needed to keep his legs from falling out from underneath him.

“I haven’t been well the last few weeks. Headaches, nausea, and I have been more irritable.”

“I have not noticed any such changes.” Hubert’s frown deepened, “And I take great care to pay attention to any shifts in your mood or behavior. Have you been concealing it from me?”

“...Yes, but only because I wasn’t sure what was wrong.” You admitted, arms crossed tight against your chest. You were anxious.

Hubert breathed deep to steady himself. “All the more reason to tell me. I know I am not a capable husband, but I don’t believe that absolves you from communicating with me when something happens.”

You explained in earnest, “I wasn’t even certain of what it was until I met with Dorothea and mentioned the odd feelings. She told me that the same things happened to her when she was pregnant. I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain; if I wasn’t, there would be no reason to tell you and worry about such a thing only to discover later it was false.”

“Why do you assume I would be worried?” Hubert pressed, though his tone softened considerably. He stepped closer until he was just in front of you, until your eyes focused on the buttons of his jacket instead of his deep gaze.

“We have never discussed the topic in-depth; I assumed we would be happy with just the two of us. We have already been married for two years. The way my father spoke of mother’s pregnancy, it seemed as though having a family together was at the forefront of their minds as soon as they wed.”

“I see…then it appears I have once again come up short in my duties as your partner.” 

A slender finger hooked your chin, delicately drawing your eyes back to his. They were…much softer than you anticipated. 

Warm, even.

“It is not that I am against having a family with you. It is simply that there were many other things we had to focus on. Reconstruction efforts have swallowed most of our attention for months. My only concerns this entire time have been serving our emperor, and being with you.”

“Hubert…”

“Come. We should discuss this at length, now that the topic has arisen.” 

He took your hand in his, to lead you from the office to your private chambers. The doors were promptly locked. You were guided to the bedside, where he gestured for you to sit beside him.

Slowly you sank onto the mattress, focused on the man currently gazing down at you with a suspicious amount of adoration in his eyes.

“So…you…want to start a family with me?” 

“That depends. Do you wish to start a family with me?” Hubert returned the question to you, “It is not I who will bear the heaviest burden. The baby will grow- is growing- inside you. All of the physical and emotional changes that happen as a result will have a direct impact on you.”

“But it is not only my decision. Even if I want a child, I know your family was…the way you grew up, it did not endear you to having your own. If I were to force you into fatherhood against your wishes, I would be devastated. I can’t make a choice that leaves you uncomfortable and angry for years to come.”

You could see the gears turning in his mind. “It is…not that I am against having children. But you are right; my father did not hold a position I envied. Nor was it a mantle I ever saw myself taking up.”

You nodded, knowing exactly how he felt about his father; after all of the regrettable choices that man had made, you knew it was little more than frustration and cold detachment.

To think he could reach a similar point in his life was not something either of you wanted to think about. It made the choice clear, in your mind. But for Hubert, it was not so simple.

“But we are not our parents. And I know for a fact that while my father did not wed through a love match…we did.” He reminded you, slender fingers tenderly slipping through your hair, holding a lock loosely while he contemplated.

Tentatively, you watched his movements. His eyes did not hold any coldness in them; it was wholly the opposite. Something that did give you the slightest inkling that his mind wasn’t where you had assumed, after all.

“Is this something you want?” Hubert asked at last, his voice far quieter. You shrugged your shoulders, sighing softly as you considered the question.

“Well…I’d be lying if I said I never considered it. But there are so many factors that make me hesitate. For one thing, my father struggled raising me on his own. And my mother died in childbirth.”

Hubert’s shoulders tensed a fraction. That was a real risk that you would both have to consider. Was a similar fate possible for you?

“Is that fear enough to deter you from pursuing a family?” Hubert wondered aloud, “I would not blame you; it would be more than enough for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t…think so. It’s-- it’s not as if that would be the guaranteed result of going through childbirth.”

“But it is not a trade I would willingly agree to, either.” Hubert’s hand slipped to your upper arm, squeezing gently. Searching for reassurance that you weren’t planning on going anywhere; or at least, that you understood he couldn’t bear for you to go anywhere.

You smiled softly, covering his hand with yours. “I wouldn’t either. I promise.” 

“Then…should we not pursue it?”

“It’s not that. It’s-- we could. The baby’s already here.” Your other hand slipped over your stomach, “We have a lot of time for exams and assessments to confirm the level of risk I’m  facing. If it’s determined that it’s too risky, then that’s the end of it.”

“And if it is deemed safe for you to carry the child to term?” Hubert pressed, “What then?”

“Then…I…think I’d want to.” Your words hung in the air for a moment, silence passing between you for a beat, then another.

He stared down at you, eyes narrowed just slightly. “...Then that is what I want, as well.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” He confirmed, gently taking your hands back in his. “You are…the only one in the world who matters above all else. I cannot say I am wholly certain, or confident in my ability to raise an entire human creature…but if it is with you, I…am willing to at least try.”

“Hubert, I’m serious. If you aren’t comfortable with having a baby, we don’t have to. At the very least, we can wait and talk about this more before jumping into anything. This is as much a surprise to me as it is you.” 

“I know. I do not say any of this lightly. And do not think that my words mean I only want this because you want it. It is because I love you that having a child at all is possible.”

“You mean that? You aren’t just saying it to make me happy?” It made the smile on his lips quirk, amused by just how unconvinced you were.

“As much as I enjoy making you happy, it would be an incredibly poor choice for both of us if I were lying.” 

Your expression remained unconvinced, but you did relent. “Very well. I trust you.”

“I cannot guarantee that I will be the greatest parent, but…I will be earnest in my attempts to raise your child.”

That much begot a smile. You held his hands to your chest, “That is all I hope for, my love.” 

Hubert could hardly help himself. He leaned in close, a featherlight kiss brushing over your lips. It was woefully inadequate-- you freed his hands just to take hold of his face, and drew him back in for a far more demanding kiss instead.

It was all he could do to succumb to your romantic advances-- though to be fair, that is what got you two in this situation to begin with.

And so, time passed.

Hubert attended all future appointments, both for moral support and to ensure Linhardt was in fact a competent doctor. As the baby grew, and the changes came, both your most pressing fears would ease. 

You were assured multiple times that what happened with your mother was not a genetic issue- if anything were to go wrong (which it wouldn’t, Hubert vowed), it would not be due to any internal issues caused by your family history.

So long as you followed the medical plans properly, monitored your health and paid close attention to the baby’s growth, all would be well.

The months blurred together. The second trimester was a whirlwind of change, hormonally and physically. Hubert took great care to track your every need, and if you so much as sneezed, he appeared at your side out of nowhere prepared to assess your needs.

It was in your third trimester that the pregnancy became much more real to both of you. Feeling the baby move around, and press on your organs (easily the most horrifying thing about the pregnancy to him), caused it to be even more of a reality than ever.

You found Hubert’s new habit upon returning home was to inquire about your health, and once he confirmed you were well, his head would fall on your lap so that he might run his hand over your baby bump to check on the baby next.

And of course he would stay there, dozing off with your hand tangled in his hair, so you could admire his handsome, narrow face until the baby decided it was time for you to eat.

It was midnight, three days before the expectedd due date when your peaceful pregnancy came to a chaotic end.

You jolted upright from a sharp pain in your core. That felt far different from the false contractions you’d been dealing with. No, that felt much, much harsher than before. 

But what pulled you from the pain was the sudden release of pressure in your cervix-- it would’ve felt relieving had it not been for the contraction that followed.

The baby was coming.

Fighting the urge to groan, you reached for Hubert-- if he wasn’t awake yet, he was about to be (rudely). But your hand grasped cold sheets. Your brow furrowed, searching for him in the dark. 

“H-Hubert??”

He wasn’t there. Your jaw clenched, fighting the urge to groan when the pain rolled through you again. All right, you could handle this alone until your husband returned. But without a clue where he could be, you weren’t entirely sure how long that meant.

Carefully, you tried to turn so your feet were on the floor. But the fact that you moved at all was a bad call-- pain burst from your side, and you gasped.

“Hrgh-- Hubert!!” Your voice cracked under the throbbing discomfort. There was no response. Surely he couldn’t be that far away. “Hubert-! The baby’s coming!!” 

Trembling fingers reached for the oil lamp, determined to illuminate your surroundings to get a grasp on your situation.

But when the lamp brushed your fingertips, another pang struck hard enough your legs gave out. The half-hearted attempt to catch yourself sent the lamp and half your nightstand crashing to the stone floor.

Glass shattered across the floor, knicking exposed skin as you struggled to keep upright.

“Byleth?!” Hubert’s voice sounded so close, but so far away. The blood roaring in your ears made it hard to tell.

The bedroom doors burst open; Hubert rushed in, eyes wide with a fear you’d never seen from him, before. A fear that deepened when he realized what happened.

He raced over to you, glass crunched beneath his boots. His hands were cold when he grasped your shoulders. 

“Byleth, you’re injured! What did-”

“Baby’s coming.” 

His breath hitched. “Right now?”

“Baby’s coming now. R-right now!” You looked up at him, “We need t-to call the-”

“-I’ll take care of it. Hold tight.” He looped his arms around your body and hoisted you from the floor in a single movement. You clung to his neck tightly, desperate to focus on anything other than the waves of discomfort. “Breathe, Byleth. Focus on breathing- you, there!!”

A maidservant who heard the commotion froze in her tracks, having spotted the duo she was rushing to attend to. “Milord!”

“Call the doctors, immediately- Byleth’s in labor!” 

He strode down the corridor with urgent purpose, taking you to the guest room that was much closer to the front of house. The closer you were to the front doors, the faster Linhardt and the rest could tend to you.

“Hubert--! It h-hurts…” You fought against the urge to arch your back, lest Hubert drop you from the sudden twist in movement.

He held you closer, unable to look away from his mission. “I am sorry, my love.” 

Your expression was taut, jaw clenched in an effort to fight off a reaction. Though that would soon be a pointless endeavor.

Hubert set you down on the floor long enough to tear the blankets from the bed. With great care he led you to the mattress and eased you on top of it, hands never once leaving yours. 

“Breathe just as the midwife instructed.” Hubert urged, unable to do much else. He knelt at the bedside to give better access to you. The pillows did little to assuage your discomfort. The hand he offered was gripped like a vice, determined not to let go of him until the latest contraction passed.

It was all too real, now. The baby was on its way. Hubert could only watch as you suffered, his heart sinking with guilt and anguish knowing that this was only the beginning.

Hubert was banished from the delivery room shortly after Linhardt and the midwife arrived. A flurry of clerics were in tow, which meant the already limited space would be practically stuffed with bodies.

Husbands were already not permitted in the room. He did attempt to protest, what with it being his house and his wife and child-- but Linhardt was adamant.

The last thing the healers needed was a frightened and worried husband who didn’t understand the process of delivery floating anxiously around them and questioning their every move.

If the emperor’s beloved could not be present during her delivery then there was less than a chance he’d be able to do it, either.

So he paced. He listened to the agonizing cries beyond the doors and waited for the announcement.

The doors opened and closed countless times in order to retrieve supplies or water for his ailing wife. In those glimpses he could see flashes of agony on your face, desperately trying to bring life into the world.

To say he could hardly bear it was an understatement; he lost count of the times his brain told him not to do anything stupid but his heart nearly blasted those damn doors open anyway.

Hours passed and the sky slowly shifted from pitch black to silvery gray. Hubert busieed himself by patrolling the house. The expression on his face was pensive and anxious, but the unlucky servants who glimpsed it thought they were about to be executed.

At a few points he returned to the master bedroom; finding the glass shards had long been cleaned up. He would busy himself with work that he could not focus on for a few hours, and would try to distract himself with food he could not taste.

There was no change until that evening. You had been in labor for almost 18 hours. Hubert was striding back to the delivery room to demand the state of your health from Linhardt. 

But just before he turned the corner, a cry rang out.

A baby’s cry.

Hubert’s stride shifted into a full sprint. His hand closed around the doorknob when it was pulled open from the other side.

An exhausted Linhardt appeared, all but ready to keel over. When he saw Hubert, he managed a smile.

“I was just about to send an attendant for you. Everyone’s okay.” 

His heart leapt. “Byleth, is she-?” 

“She is fine. The midwife and nurses are finishing a healing session to make the post-birth go more smoothly.” 

“That is…” Hubert trailed off as the weight of his fears finally fell from his shoulders. You were fine- you were being treated. 

You made it through the delivery.

“...I am deeply relieved.” 

Linhardt chuckled. “Takes a minute to gather your thoughts, huh? I’ve seen plenty of new fathers behave just the same.” 

New father.

Father.

Hubert’s breath stuck in his throat when the word bounced around in his mind. That’s right; you weren’t the only one waiting for him in that room.

“The child-- they are well, too?”

“Of course. Congratulations are in order, Lord Vestra. You have a daughter.”

Linhardt’s hand on his shoulder didn’t register. He had a daughter. A little heiress. 

“A daughter?”

“Indeed. She’s weighed in at five pounds, six ounces. She’s a bit on the smaller side. But all that means is you two will have to tend to her a bit more for the first few weeks. Think you can handle that?”

Hubert nodded, looking past Linhardt. He couldn’t see much of the bed due to the clerics and midwives in the space, but he could hear very clearly his daughter’s whines and protesting grumbles.

He needed to be in there.

“Give us a few minutes to get them ready to see you, all right? We’ll clear the room out so you have some time alone with your family.”

Mercifully the time it took for them to empty the room and finish cleaning up was much shorter than the delivery.

Linhardt ushered out the rest of his medical team, and motioned for Hubert to join you both. He vaguely heard the door click behind him. But the focus was far from Linhardt now.

For there laid his wife, smiling tenderly at the little creature cradled in your arms.

Hubert stared, dumbfounded. Were you always so beautiful? Had he truly never seen you until this moment? 

He must have been staring for too long, because your gaze shifted from the baby in your arms to the poor man frozen in place.

“Well, he finally made it into the room….I wonder how much longer it’ll take for Papa to make it over here.”

That managed to knock a little more sense into his head. Hubert straightened his back, and pulled in one last deep breath. Said breath remained lodged in his chest when he crossed the  room. You lifted a hand to his cheek, stroking his face gently.

“How are you feeling, my love? You look dumbfounded.”

He scoffed. “I should be asking you that question.”

“I thought so, too…but you didn’t say anything, so…”

“Forgive me. I am-- still processing. Are you all right?” He took hold of your hand, lowering it to kiss your fingertips. “Are you in any pain at all?”

“None. The spells they used on me should keep me from any pain for at least a night. That’s what Linhardt said, anyway.”

“One night?” His brow furrowed, moving to stand and drag the healer back in. “Does he not realize you just birthed a whole human being? Should you not be relieved of pain for the next year??”

“The worst of it will have subsided by then, my love. And if not, we can always cast it again. Linhardt said he’d leave a spell book for you to use as needed.”

“...Hmph…very well.” He slowly returned to his seat. His gaze wandered down to your arms, “And what of our-- ah, our daughter?”

Your cheeks grew rosy, warm with joy. “Yes. Our daughter.”

Seeing the beaming smile on your lips brought a small curve to his own. “How is she?”

“She is well. And she is beautiful.” You were careful in shifting the newborn, to pull back the blankets around her face so he might see her fully. “She has your hair.”

The breath flew from his lungs. You spoke the truth; dark hair sprouted from atop her head, an ebony halo adorning a peony-pink face.

Her eyes were still closed, fast asleep in her cozy swaddle, soothed by the sound of her mother’s steady heartbeat.

He wondered whose eyes she would have.

It was difficult to focus on anything besides the strange squeaks and grunts the baby made. “Linhardt said she is small. Smaller than normal.”

“She will be more frail than other children,” You confirmed, gently running your finger along her cheek, “But that does not mean unhealthy. We will need to keep a close eye on her. I’ll be counting on you for that.”

“Of course.” He nodded solemnly. What else was he supposed to do for the next several months? Or years, even? How would he ever be able to let such a fragile creature out of his sight? “Whatever she needs.”

“I think what she needs is her Papa.” Your smile grew mischievous, “Would you like to hold her?”

“I--” Hubert was suddenly hesitant. Of course he wanted to hold her, but could he? Did he even know how? What if he tilted his arm the wrong way, and she fell from his arms? What if-

“It is very easy, dear. Come onto the bed here.” You patted the spot beside you. Obediently he followed, sinking onto the mattress right next to his wife. 

You leaned against his shoulder, holding the baby out from your chest. “Support her head and neck just like this…and with your other arm, do this…”

Hubert listened intently, determined not to fail in his first act as a parent. Though much of that concern was for naught.

When his daughter nestled against his chest…all he could think about was how perfect she was.

You watched his expression melt. His rigid frame softened, which made for a much more comfortable pillow for his daughter. She cooed and hummed, curious about the sudden change in the world around her.

It was different, but good.

“What do you think?” The question was little more than a whisper. He shook his head, unable to look away from the little girl.

“I fear it is impossible to form a thought.” He admitted in an even quieter voice. 

You giggled, “That’s how I felt, too. I could hardly believe that she’s our daughter.”

“She seems too perfect to belong to either of us…let alone both of us.” He sounded utterly in disbelief. “To think she arrived without incident. I believe we have exhausted all the fortune in our lifetimes to have her.”

“Well, not entirely without incident.” The blanket lifted, which revealed the bandages wrapped just below your knees.

Hubert’s smile faded. “I had nearly forgotten you were injured. The chaos of the last made it all a blur.”

“It is trivial, really. The healers said the cuts willl heal naturally in a few days. But I was curious…what happened last night? You weren’t in bed when I woke, and…”

“I was not far, I assure you. I only wish that I came back faster, to avoid your being hurt. In truth, I was in the garden.”

“At midnight?” You sounded surprised. The baby chirped, surprised by the minor raise of volume.

Hubert slipped a finger into her blankets, which she was quick to grasp. His eyes were fixed to her, brow furrowed.

“I…was thinking. About what was to come. I did not know if I was up to the task of becoming a father. All the possibilities, the responsibilities, the risks…I could not sleep. I have found that walking in the garden when I cannot quiet my thoughts most effective.”

“It’s happened more than once?” Your eyebrows rose, surprised. “Why did you not tell me you were struggling with this, my love? I would gladly hear your worries.”

“You had enough to worry about with the pregnancy. I thought it unfair to add my own worries to your burden.”

You shifted your focus to him, fully. “That is a silly thing to say. Your worries are not a burden. Your feelings will never be a burden. Just as you have shared all of my worries and feelings from the very first day.”

“But I am not the one who had to create and expel an entire human creature from my body.” He pointed out. You made a face.

“Please do not describe the birth of our precious daughter that way.”

He bit back a smile. “Apologies.”

Hubert gently removed his hand from the blankets so that he could wrap his arm around your shoulders. He drew you in close and settled back into the pillows. You were still overdue for a good rest, after all.

You did not remember drifting off to sleep, nor the baby being carefully slipped from your arms. You also did not recall his whispered encouragement to sleep deeply and peacefully; his reassurance that he would watch over you both.

But what you swore never to forget the next morning; when you woke up to see your husband standing by the window, sharing your daughter’s first sunrise and whispering sweet words to his little shadow.

“Couple more drills, you lot- when I get back I better see every single dummy with a spear in its gut! Down the middle, got it?”

“Yes, sir!” The troupe of pups grinned, eager to continue their work while he hurried off. 

Sylvain trailed along behind you, careful to maintain his distance so that you wouldn’t accuse him of smothering you and treating you as though you were suddenly made of glass.

He would attempt to argue that you were indeed carrying very precious cargo and would probably throw himself off the Oghma mountains if something happened to you, but…usually that was met with a glare or an eyeroll.

“I can still beat you in a duel, Sylvain…if the doctors would let me.” You would remind him, and Sylvain would simply agree, hands raised in surrender.

Though he personally believed if you won it’d be because he’d be far too petrified to brandish a weapon anywhere near you in such a state…another thought carefully kept to himself.

So instead he opted to follow about 30 paces behind you. Enough to be able to close the distance if you tripped or fell backwards down the stairs or something else horrible…but not enough that you would notice him when you were clearly distracted by those current frustrations.

He trailed behind, faithful as ever, until you disappeared into your quarters and slammed the doors behind you.

Sylvain waited a polite two minute before he cautiously opened the doors, peeking inside.

“My love? Are you in here?”

“You would know, stalker.” Your frustrated reply came as you attempted to ease down onto the bed, but having a watermelon inside your body at all times made balancing very difficult.

A sharp sigh hit when you gave up on lying down, opting to sit on the bedside instead and glare at your husband.

“And here I thought I was being sneakier this time.” He slid into the room, the doors clicking shut behind him. He closed the distance between you, taking your hands in his. “May I help you lie down, milady?”

“It’s the only way I can, these days.” You huffed, reluctantly allowing him to ease you back. The agitated huff was another clear hint that you weren’t having a good day.

“Would you like to tell me what troubles you so, Mrs. Gautier? It hurts me to see you in such a state.”

“I do not think it would be wise to confide in the man who did this to me in the first place.” The vague hand gesture to your magnificent baby bump made him chuckle.

“Now, now, darling. It takes two to cause ‘this’.” He gestured to your healthy baby bump, though that did little to amuse you. Sylvain added, “You can always vent to me, By. No matter how petty, I shall treat it with the utmost importance.”

“Mm-hmm.” You sounded unconvinced, which your husband noted as a sign he needed to do something more to cure this foul mood.

Sylvain joined you on the side of the bed, pulling the blankets back.

“Hey…I’m trying to get comfortable.”

“Allow me.” He gently set your feet in his lap, and got to work pressing his thumbs into the aching soles.

Almost instantly you melted into the pillows. A deep exhale slipped from your lips, eyes fluttering closed while your husband worked magic to heal your poor feet.

“Better?”

“They’ve hurt since we woke up,” You explained tiredly, “It’s as if…as soon as I put my feet down, they start swelling.”

“I can’t imagine how agitating it uncomfortable it must be.??]You leaned back further a couple toes twitching when he pressed into a particularly sore spot. 

“It wouldn’t bother me so much if it did n’t happen every day.” You admitted, “I can’t stand having to lie about all day. If it could stop hurting long enough to at least pretend to do my job, well…that’d be far better.”

“I know it may be sacrilegious to say this to the Archbishop, but…you are pregnant, By. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you were to relinquish your duties until the baby’s born.”

“But that would be an entire month’s worth of work, delegating tasks and delaying visits…there are some things only the Archbishop can do. I can’t shirk my duties just because some ginger tramp got me pregnant.”

“Beg pardon -- I am a ginger romantic.” You rolled your eyes, giggling only after he flicked your ankle. “Lest we forget who holds whose feet in their hands.”

“Forgive my impertinence,” Your smile was soft and fond, painting a far more relaxed image than you’d portrayed the last few days.

But considering how hectic everything had been, it wasn’t all that surprising you were frustrated.

Growing an entire human body while trying to manage war recovery and the construction of three separate nations was…well, needless to say Sylvain did not envy your position.

“Do you think it will be easier once the baby is born?” You wondered aloud, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I suppose that will come down to how you wish to raise them. If you want to have a nursemaid or attendant at any given moment, I think we will be able to do plenty.” 

“Sylvain…” You glanced back down at him, pout on your lips. Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat.

“I know, I know. We’re going to be very hands-on with our child. I’m just saying, I was raised primarily by my nursemaid and I turned out great!”

“...”

“I’m kidding.”

“Very funny.” You shook your head, but your smile had returned. He continued his work, massaging away your stress. 

“We will have our hands full with a newborn though, my love. We will be delegating many tasks for the first few months at minimum. In other words, I doubt it will be easier when the baby’s born…we’ll be giving some very extravagant gifts at Yuletide for our friends and colleagues, I think.”

“I think it will be easier when we have the baby.” You said softly, prompting him to glance back at you.

“Do you…know how much work newborns are?”

“I mean it will be easier because we will actually have the baby.” Your hands came up, cradling an imaginary child. “Being able to hold my little one will at least make all the exhaustion worth it. Getting to see their tiny hands and feet, and the fuzzy red hair…much better than just imagining it while my organs get pushed around.”

“Heh, I suppose you have a good point.” He grinned, a soft blush on his cheeks. “You really think it’s going to be a redhead, huh? You’d prefer that over your hair color?”

“I think a baby who looks like you will be very cute.” You explained simply, tilting your head. “You disagree?”

“Not at all.” Sylvain beamed, “I’m flattered you think so highly of people with my affliction.”

You snorted. “‘Affliction’?”

“I’m just saying, I think a baby with beautiful dark blue hair, or possibly fair, soft green hair would be beautiful as well, Byleth. Though I’m honestly more curious what color it would end up being.”

“Perhaps if we have multiple children we’ll have a more clear answer.”

“Let’s survive this child, first. Then we can discuss multiple.” Sylvain laughed, gently squeezing your leg. 

You held out your hand, inviting him to join you at your side. Not being one to turn down a welcome invitation, the bed shifted under his weight, making his way up to the headboard and sinking down beside you. 

“I suppose you’re right…I may just be excited about starting our family. In spite of the current challenges,” You added, resting your head on his chest. Strong arms wrapped around you, drawing you into a much needed embrace.

“I wish it weren’t so difficult for you. But you are growing an entire living being inside you, after all. Being frustrated and tired is to be expected.”

“I know…I just want to be able to do a little more before everything officially changes.”

Sylvain kissed the top of your head, feeling your body relax, the warm comfort of your husband’s tenderness drawing out just how exhausted you were.

“Think of it as a required vacation. Some much-needed rest before the baby comes…and then when we have to actually get back to work. This is the last bit of peace we’ll have for a while.”

“I guess you’re right…” A hand lazily fell to your baby bump, “I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.” He agreed, fighting the urge to yawn, himself. “Shall we take advantage of our rest while we still have it?”

“Mm…if you insist.” You nuzzled into him, sending warm fuzzies fluttering all over. Sylvain cuddled you close, drinking in the peace and tranquility. His students could wait a little longer…or maybe he ought to send a message to have Ingrid finish their training.

“But your feet are-”’

“Just a little sore, that’s all. I’m perfectly fine.” You dismissed his concern, mainly because you knew full well his habit of worrying over your health could spiral out of control in an instant.

You could send for a small bandage to cover the blister, later. But duty called; and would continue to do so until long after the sun set.

Dimitri, who had set up his desk parallel to yours in the Archbishop’s Office, looked up at you as though unconvinced.

“It is abnormal for you to acknowledge even serious conditions. If this has bothered you enough to alter your gait then perhaps-”

“I do not wish to trouble the clerics, Dima. I will take care of it, later.” You insisted, a touch more firmly. Dimitri could not be allowed to fret over your health more than absolutely necessary. 

The king, however, was not so easily deterred. And if he knew his wife as well as suspected…he knew compromise and a dash of trickery would be required to change your mind.

“I can assure you, my darling, I do not intend to force you down to the medical wing,” He started carefully, feeling your wary gaze pass over him. “Why don’t we simply take a break, on the recliner, here? Relax for a moment.”

“And that will heal my perceived injury?”

“Perhaps not totally, but…I would be glad to help alleviate it.” He rose from his desk, reaching out to take your hand. 

Your eyes remained narrowed, still gambling whether he would spirit you away before you could fight him off, or if his gesture was sincere. But he remained true to his word, and led you to the sofa.

“Take a seat, dearest.”

The caution eased into curiosity when he did not follow suit, allowing you to sink into the plush cushion. Cape unclasped and set carefully aside, Dimitri lowered himself to the floor in front of you, and raised your feet so they rested on his lap.

“My shoes are dirty, Dimitri- your trousers-”

“Can be cleaned; and they will not be for long.” He unclasped them as he spoke, revealing your tender little feet that he held in his hands with great care.

“Hmm…I don’t recall you learning any healing magic.”

“Perhaps not a spell, but something a little more practical.” He pressed his thumbs into the arch of your right foot, the suffering appendage you’d limped on before.

A sharp inhale was followed by a relieved sigh. Dimitri looked up at you triumphantly as he massaged your foot. 

“Oh…that is magic.”

He chuckled softly, working small circles of pressure into your skin. He watched with great satisfaction as his wife sank back into the sofa, eyes closed against the bliss of an impromptu massage.

“I knew it would be difficult to convince you to speak with a medical professional over something like a bruise or two. Sylvain recommended I try something like this for you, instead.”

“I am starting to understand how that boy has managed to stay married.” Your eyebrows rose; “He taught you how to do this?”

“He didn’t have to teach me. Though…I did practice on a few different objects, to be absolutely certain I did not injure you by accident.”

“How many rocks did you shatter?”

“...Three, before I graduated to wood blocks.”

“And your living test subject? It was Seteth, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Dimitri laughed, “No, I thought it would be poor form to do such a thing. So if I am pressing too hard, you must tell me immediately.”

“You’re doing perfectly.” You hummed, cracking an eye open to peer at your  husband, “Though I wouldn’t say no to some extra pressure.”

“Allow me to practice a few more times before I test more pressure; it won’t take much for things to go sideways.”

“Very well; I won’t push you.” He smiled at your promise, “But this is helpful, Dima. I feel much better. How long do you want to do this for?”

“As long as you desire it, my love.”

“We’d have to block out the rest of the day…maybe tomorrow, too.” You hummed, all but sinking into the cushions, melting under the reverent touch of your husband’s calloused fingers.

“I would be glad to. Simply say the word, Beloved.”

The heavenly soothing of your aches and pains would not be able to last forever, as duty would eventually call. But Dimitri made sure to offer much needed massages much more frequently in the future; especially now that he had the perfect tactic to keep his wife from overdoing it and hurting herself.

Even after you figured out his clever tactic to stop you from working, it was rare you would reject his offers to alleviate your aching feet.

How could you say no to such a handsome masseuse, after all?

—----------------------

Felix: Being an adept swordsman meant having incredible dexterity, and skilled fingers. To be able to handle the blade just right, or switch his hold in the span of a breath, meant Felix was more than acceptable when it came to working with his hands.

However, he couldn’t help but feel you were abusing his skills for your own personal gain.

The Archbishop’s dashing swordmaster husband, who doubled as the new Duke Fraldarius, found himself in a rather odd position, as of late.

That being his wife's impromptu massage specialist.

“I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told you not to hike alone.” His sharp tone contrasted with the gentle ministrations. “You always twist something or walk too far, and then crawl back home and languish in bed all day.”

The subject of Felix’s scolding, was currently trying to mold into the mattress, tightly gripped the pillow her face was buried in when he pressed a particularly tender spot.

“I know-” You squeaked out, inhaling sharply when he tried to gently turn the injured foot, “But when you’re not here to survey the property, should the Duchess not assume the responsibility?”

“Not when the Duchess is also the damned Archbishop,” Felix countered, “That’s when you order someone else to handle the survey instead! Especially when it takes you up into the mountains, alone!”

“I suppose you’re right,” You sighed, before his thumb hit your frayed nerves directly. You all but jerked your leg away from him, spitting out a curse. “Gods, why does that hurt so much? I’ve been stabbed with less pain than this.”

“It’s been a long time since the war.” Felix reminded you, very gingerly drawing your ankle back to his lap. He had procured a roll of bandages, taking great care to wrap it tightly so that the pain might subside quickly. “Maybe you’re just out of practice, managing the pain.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“You’d be surprised how quickly the body forgets…especially when you’ve lived in the lap of luxury for a while.”

“I don’t know if being challenged to duels daily by my husband would be considered the ‘lap of luxury’.” 

Felix scoffed, tying off the bandage. “Like you don’t beg for me to fight you every day.”

“‘Beg’ is a strong word.”

“You think so?” He eyed you, that familiar glint in his eye, “And what will you do about it?”

“I’m not challenging you to a duel, Felix. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, what with my giving you a handicap. Is it really be a win if you beat up an injured woman?”

“As if this could actually slow you down.” Your husband’s smile was warm and fond, absentmindedly continuing to massage your feet as the aching twinge in your ankle slowly subsided. You relaxed into the bedding, watching him work with great content.

It wasn’t as rare as one might think, seeing Felix be affectionate and loving towards his dearest; the short-tempered noble with the sharpest tongue among the lions had a shockingly soft side to him. Shocking, at least, to those who did not know him.

But in a moment like this, even in the midst of scoldings and challenges, Duke Fraldarius was attentive and soft. Secretly, you thought, he really enjoyed taking care of you. It was such a rare opportunity after all; of course he would insist upon being the one to tend your wounds and soothe your pain.

Quietly, you murmured, “Thank you, Felix.”

It earned a soft blush and a dismissive scoff, his gaze suddenly focused on his hands. “It’s nothing. Just…be more careful, all right? The last thing we need is an international incident because you don’t listen to your husband.”

“If you take care of me like this more often, maybe I’ll be inclined to stick close by.”

“You just want me to keep giving you massages.” He grumbled. You laughed.

“I will not deny it is certainly an added benefit to ‘listening to my husband’. He is quite good at this, after all.”

His chest puffed up just slightly, “I know I’m the best at it; so don’t ever ask anyone else to do it.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” 

Felix remained by your side, determined to enjoy the day with you now that he was home and your wound tended to. Peaceful, warm days like this had been such a rare thing, not that long ago…so you were determined to savor them to the fullest.