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“Your Grace, I do not believe it is necessary to waste the young man’s time and skill like this.”
Byleth was leaning back in his couch, watching Gustave braid his hair while he was pacing around their bedroom. It took a while before the older man realized he was not going to get the braid as tight as he wanted it to be if he refused to stand still, which he finally did.
“No? So, you think having this painting done is a bad idea? I thought it was you who told me the people were asking for a picture to be made, for posterity.”
Gustave finally sat down by Byleth’s writing desk, continuing to braid, and let out a sigh: “There is nothing to say against the painting as such, but I do not believe anybody intended it to include, well, me. Nobody had that in mind. They are hoping for a picture of you, as there are pictures of the former Archbishop, and the Saints, and the Goddess…”
“I would not say nobody had you in mind. I did.”
“Please do not misconstrue my words, your Grace.” Gustave sighed again, but Byleth could see a hint of blush on his cheeks. He did not seem to mind that Byleth had thought of him, despite his protests. Still, he continued to proclaim his misgivings: “There is simply no reason for me to be depicted by your side.”
“I disagree”, Byleth replied, getting up and walking over to where Gustave was sitting.
“I know you do, but…”
Gustave stopped protesting when Byleth touched the back of his head and ran his hand through his hair, gently undoing the messy braid – which was clearly not turning out how Gustave wanted it to, probably because of his exasperation – only to start braiding it for him now. While his hands divided ginger, partially gray hair into strands, Byleth started to speak: “The day you vowed to be my knight, I also promised myself to you. If I am to be depicted for posterity, I want you to be by my side as you are now, always.”
Gustave quietly let those words sink in while he allowed Byleth to work his hair into a tight braid. The younger man had gotten good at it in the past months, playing with his lover’s hair frequently, when they were alone, and sometimes, like today, making sure he looked extra presentable.
“Heavens, Byleth, since when do you talk like this?”
Byleth smiled, leaning down and placing a kiss on Gustave’s head: “Since Seteth makes me practice public speaking.”
“Ah, yes, that. So, this was just a sermon to sway my mind?”
“Not at all. It was nothing but the truth.”
With that, Byleth tied the lower end of Gustave’s hair and took a step back, looking at his handiwork. Yes. This would do nicely.
Gustave stood up as well, looking at himself in the mirror, smoothening the frock of his clothes, before finally speaking up again: “You and I know it is the truth. But this… us… it is a side we do not show to the outside world. Archbishop Rhea never took a public… spouse, or lover, even, and while times are changing, you are the archbishop. It is just not… done.”
It was a point they had been through once or twice. Byleth was not a stubborn man. If he believed he was in the right, he acted accordingly, of course, but he also quickly accepted when somebody else was right. The first time, he had protested quite firmly. He had been hurt when Gustave had rejected his proposal, his father’s ring. But now, he understood. He could be a herald of change, but it had to be slow, gradual. In order to better the Church, he had to maintain the people’s support and respect.
While the Church did not condemn relationships between people of the same gender, many nobles still did, especially those of the old Kingdom territory, to which Gustave was most strongly related. This was mostly due to their reliance on crests and bloodlines, but since the Church and the Kingdom – which now spanned all of Fodlan – were so closely connected, the devout people’s opinions on the matter tended to fall in line with those of the Kingdom. Dimitri would change their hearts in time, especially since anyone with half a shred of empathy could see how much affection the king held for Dedue, and Byleth would do his best on his end as well. But both of them had other, more pressing issues to attend to still, end even disregarding the matter of gender, Gustave was right. Rhea, too, had never taken a spouse, so Byleth doing so now, so shortly after her stepping down, would not be readily accepted.
So, he had accepted Gustave’s decision to keep their relationship out of the public eye. It was just not time yet. Sadly, he did not have all the time in the world, at least not when it came to this particular change.
Finally, he replied: “Then so be it, Gustave. Be painted by my side, as my knight, my protector and my most trusted friend. These are truths as well.”
Gustave sighed, again, and then walked over to Byleth, taking his hands and leaning his forehead down against his: “Would that make you happy, my liege?”
Byleth moved his head and gave him a little peck on the lips: “Very much so.”
“Then I suppose I have no choice.” Despite his words, Gustave’s tone of voice sounded far from defeated as he leaned down to kiss Byleth again.
***
“I do not recall making such a jovial expression.”
The two of them had been standing still for hours while Ignatz had been painting their portrait. Byleth had developed a newfound respect for Rhea during this time, as she had been known to stand here, in the upper floor of the Church building, almost motionless, like a statue. He had found her like this often, sometimes wondering if she had just been waiting there, knowing he would come talk to her that day. Either way, he could now definitely understand the strain that standing still for a prolonged period of time put on the body – especially ones as strained from many months of battle as theirs were. He did not even want to imagine how much worse I must have been for Gustave, who was a considerable amount of years his senior. Despite this, the older man had not let any discomfort show on his face all this time.
“I may have told Ignatz to take some artistic liberties”, Byleth replied, while stretching his arms. The two of them were looking at their portrait, now done, but the paint was still drying.
“I hope it turned out to your liking, Pro- … Archbishop”, Ignatz sputtered. The young man had gained in confidence over the years but misspeaking still made him nervous. Not that Byleth minded being called Professor. He cherished it, and teaching was still part of his duties as well.
“It did. Thank you.”
The young artist had captured an incredible likeness, both of the architecture surrounding them, complete with the afternoon light shining in through stained-glass windows, as well as with their own frames and facial features. It was true, though, that both of them had a soft smile on their faces in the painting, and while Byleth could not speak for himself, he knew that Gustave’s expression had been stern the whole time.
“My I ask why you decided on this expression, Sir Victor?”, Gustave asked and Ignatz adjusted his glasses: “W-well. The Pr- … Archbishop… well, he says artistic liberties but really it was… quite a clear request.”
Gustave raised an eyebrow, and Ignatz continued: “He approached me some days ago when I first arrived back here at Garreg Mach, requesting to draw you with a smile. I said it would be difficult, since, even when I saw more of you during the war, you were never one to make that expression, at least not when I or the troops could see it. But the Archbishop managed to describe your smile so vividly to me that after I made a few sketches, I felt confident I could comply with his request.”
Byleth knew that this was a situation in which somebody else may have gotten embarrassed from being exposed like this, but he had never been one to feel embarrassment, so he hadn’t felt the need to stop Ignatz’ explanation. So, when Gustave turned his attention to him, eyebrow still raised, he just shrugged.
“I… think I shall take my leave? I will add some details to the trim of the fabric of your clothes once the paint has dried tomorrow, if that is alright?”
“Of course it is, Ignatz. Fantastic work. I appreciate it”, Byleth replied, and Ignatz then gathered his supplies, made a quick bow, and left the two of them alone.
Once he was gone and the two of them were alone, Gustave repeated his previous question: “So then I ask you. Why this expression, my love?”
Byleth smiled at the rare term of endearment. Well, rare only in the context of these public halls.
“Do you not think we should look approachable for the people?”
“I understand your thinking, your Grace, but I do not see how it applies to my expression, specifically. Should I not be seen as your stern protector?”
Byleth shook his head at that, and stepped a bit closer to Gustave, gingerly taking his gloved hand: “I considered that. But then I thought about who the people would be, those who were going to pass by this picture every day. And I couldn’t help but think of the children here, the squires and the students, who know you as the kind man who teaches them how to fish or how to hold an axe without hurting anyone except for the training dummy. No enemy will see this painting. There is no need for you to appear more intimidating than you are.”
Gustave linked his fingers with Byleth’s, sighed, and looked at the painting once more: “I am not sure if this was a snide remark or a compliment, but I shall take it as the latter, I suppose. And I must say, I enjoy the peaceful feeling the painting emanates. I do not know much of art, except for my brief formal education in the subject many years ago when I was a student here, but I feel it is… calming, in a way it may not have been had I ruined it with my usual grimace.”
Byleth laughed at that and leaned against Gustave’s shoulder: “It is no grimace”, he said between laughs, before he continued, more composed: “But I agree. Yours is a fine smile, and Ignatz captured it well.”
Gustave looked down towards him, before sighing again and gently burying his face in his hair: “And yours is a fine laugh, my love. If this painting brings you this much joy, I am glad you persuaded me to stand model for it with you. … Though I must say, the way my back aches is rather telling of my age.”
Byleth turned his head, tilted it up and pressed a short kiss to Gustave’s chin: “We could go back upstairs and see if a massage makes alleviates your pain?”
The blush Byleth had seen this morning returned to his lover’s cheeks as he replied: “I… suppose we could.”
They were both smiling when they rushed towards the stairs, hand in hand, running in a way more suitable to schoolboys – high from the thrill of the prospect of getting caught – than to the Archbishop and his knight.
***
The museum was bustling with life on this late Saturday afternoon. Byleth knew he should have waited until Monday, when the most he would have to contend with would be the occasional school class on a field trip, brought here by bus. It was off-season too, so the tourist situation would also have been better on a weekday, but Byleth had not managed to wait a day longer. He had dropped off his suitcase at a storage locker at the airport the minute he had gotten it back, and had taken the first bus to the Fhirdiad Museum of Arts.
The world had simultaneously become much bigger and much smaller in the last few centuries Byleth had been around. He had stepped down as Archbishop and taken up traveling some time after his appointment, realizing that the charade of changing his name and identity every few decades just to stay in power was not the way for him. Flayn had taken his post for a while after that, and he felt the Church had never been in better hands. He still visited her sometimes. He, she, Seteth and Rhea had even spent some time traveling together a few years ago, a prolonged holiday of sorts from their respective, now quite separate lives. Separate, but always connected.
He loved them, they were his family, and he also loved that Flayn always wanted him to meet all her children’s children’s children. There were quite a few people with slightly pointy ears and weirdly green hair around these days. That was good, that meant he was not sticking out too much, even when he was teaching history and got to the parts where he showed his college students slides of Archbishop Byleth, born 1159, died 1219. Officially.
He did, however, sometimes get some remarks that he looked like him. He usually played along with his students, commenting on the coincidence. He was never really afraid to be found out. Even though some texts talked about the longevity of the Saints, nobody could really comprehend living for eternity. That, and paintings still looked different from photographs.
The one he stood in front of now, however – and the main reason he always came here whenever he was in town – was a likeness very well captured. Though it wasn’t his own face he had come to look at.
“It is good to see your smile again, my love”, he said quietly, and hoped his voice got drowned out by everyone else’s conversations. Well, if not, people would just think him weird. That was alright, too.
It really was a fine smile. He remembered telling Gustave that, once in the market, once when they had looked at their painting together, and so many times more, all of which happened lifetimes ago. Sometimes he wished photography had been invented a few centuries sooner, but as long as this painting existed, he would be alright. He was only sad that, as long as it was in a public museum, he never could reach out and trace his hand over that smile. As he thought that, he noticed his hand moving, so he held it down with his other hand, absentmindedly fiddling with the ring on his finger. It was alright. It was enough to see it. To see him, even after he was long gone.
Byleth was glad he had made the choice to ask for a smile on his knight’s face all those years ago. Even now, after centuries, he could always return to look at him, at them, together. He could stand here, as he had done many times before and intended to do many times in the future, looking at Gustave’s smile, and thanking him for protecting his own, even to this day.
Byleth did not stay long this evening. The jetlag was getting to him and he needed rest, so he said his goodbye to man in the painting and made a silent promise to come back soon. As he left, he let his eyes glance over the plaque on the wall next to the painting:
>> Ignatz Victor (1167-1238)
The Archbishop and his Knight (1187)
oil on canvas
One of Victors most famous paintings, The Archbishop and his Knight depicts Archbishop Byleth Eisner and his knight, Gustave Eddie Dominic in front of the stained-glass church windows of Garreg Mach Monastery. The pair appears to be enjoying the afternoon sun and each other’s presence. Research into the paints has shown that the wedding bands on their fingers were a later addition by the artist, added for historical accuracy. <<