#syleth

“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.