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The weather in Toronto is beyond exceptional compared to the frigid Faerghus air that was once normal to Byleth. It was warm and easy to breathe. There were no corpses that littered the streets like they did hundreds of years ago, no smog or ashes from the flames that engulfed the towns. Instead of walking through the halls of an old monastery and the dreary hallways of Abyss, he roams around a local elementary school that he teaches at, where instead of leading a war council meeting, he teaches history to fourth graders.
When he wakes up, he wakes up embracing his husband, and not aching from wounds or having lost one of his students in the tides of war. Instead of a sword with the power to level an entire battlefield, Byleth wields only a satchel full of graded tests, homework, and a laptop on busier days. That, and his favorite pen. Funny, he thinks, how so much of his life has changed since then.
Getting accustomed to the centuries changing has had its challenges. Yuri, an ace at fitting in and adapting, would beg to differ. The 1900s were an interesting time to say the least. Technology was evolving faster than Byleth would’ve liked, and there were a few times where he found himself swatting away journalists asking about his timeless looks, his body still as spry as it once was decades ago.
Yuri found it funny and still does today, when he hears Byleth’s stories about what his coworkers and students have to say about him never aging a day. Then again, Byleth would take nosey coworkers over a war any day. He has little to complain about, after all. They own a rather comfortable apartment and have their own respectfully paying jobs, something that Byleth wouldn’t have expected so long ago.
There was no vying for the attention of nobles, having expectations be shoved upon them by religious followers and so on. Stress was at an all time low after many years of watching humanity evolve out of what Byleth can only describe as “irrationality”. The only thing that hasn’t changed in all these years was Yuri, and Byleth would forever be grateful for that.
His heart still doesn’t beat. But then again, neither does Yuri’s.
He thanks Yuri when he places a cup of coffee in front of them on their breakfast table, and leans slightly when he feels his husband give him a quick kiss on his head. “Which brew is this?” He asks, placing today’s newspaper on his lap and bringing the cup close to his nose. It smells sweet, sugary, and splendid. “Butter toffee?”
“Close.” Yuri smirks. “Italian roast.” He pours himself a cup before leaning against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms and staring rather thoughtfully at the window.
Byleth pokes his eyes up from the paper. He can’t help but smile at Yuri’s once attentive and vigilant nature translating into something more relaxed in today’s world. If they were back in wartime, Yuri would no doubt be scouting Abyss or healing the wounded, helping just about everyone else except himself. He supposes that an era of peace and eventually settling down as a househusband will do that to someone like him. Byleth constantly found himself in good spirits as that the war ending meant that Yuri actually had time to take care of himself.
He eyes the loosened buttons of Yuri’s dress shirt before focusing on the face that he’s come to love and cherish so much. He notices his eyebrows twitching slightly, an indicator that only he knows when Yuri is thinking hard about something. “What’s on your mind?” He asks.
There’s a pause before any kind of response. Maybe Yuri’s trying to find the right words. He always finds himself rambling whenever Byleth puts him on the spot. Part of him kind of hates it, the fact that Byleth can do so little to get so much out of him, but the other part can only love it since he can speak so freely to him, something he hasn’t been able to do with anyone else.
Yuri exhales. “There’s an exhibit in the Royal Ontario Museum that opened up last weekend.” He takes a slow sip from his cup. “Apparently, it’s about the Fodlan war.”
“I take it, you'd like to go?” Byleth focuses on the newspaper article again. He doesn’t exactly care about the new clothing store opening up near town hall, but he supposes it’s nice to stay informed.
“Well, seeing as how you and I led the revolution and unified Fodlan in those five excruciating, exhausting, awful years, it wouldn’t hurt to see what some nerds with a history degree have to say about us. Before it ends, at least.”
Byleth chuckles, flipping another page. Nerds. Even after so long, Yuri’s sentiment still hasn’t changed a bit. He’s come to love the teasing, the sassiness that just happens to come with that charismatic side of his. In some ways, Byleth likes to think that’s what makes him so perfect. A charmer. He takes another sip of coffee before replying. “I’ll get us tickets for later.”
“What? Don’t you have tests to grade?”
“Spending time with you is more important.”
“Uh huh. And when your students moan and groan over you not having their failing scores yet again, then what?”
Byleth finishes the rich blend before placing the newspaper on the table, rising with his empty dish and making his way to the kitchen. He passes Yuri with a smirk before placing the cup in the sink. “They’ll just have to live with it.” He says, stepping over to Yuri and wrapping his arms around his waist. He rests his chin on top of Yuri’s shoulder and basks in his sweet scent, something that he’s positive he’ll never truly get enough of. “And they’re not failing.”
Yuri chuckles at this. “Surely. Your students should be grateful that they have you.”
“Were you?”
Yuri places his hand on top of Byleth’s. He feels their rings touch, and he finds himself getting somewhat flustered all over again when the memories flood his head. “Always, By. If you’re looking to get more sentiment out of me, wait until after I finish this.” He takes another sip of coffee before leaning back into Byleth’s chest.
Byleth hums before tightening his hold just a little bit more. Mornings were always his favorite after the war came to an end. Spending his brief moments of peace and freedom with the love of his life, holding him close and hearing his beautiful morning voice were moments that he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. The tickets can wait . He thinks, watching the sun slowly rise over the skyscrapers and reflective buildings.
Museums were always fascinating to Byleth, no matter what the exhibit was about. Though, there’s something about going to an exhibit that’s quite literally about himself that ties a knot in his stomach.
The Royal Ontario Museum is just as beautiful as the last time he came. And chilly. Somewhere along the opposite side of where the Fodlan exhibit awaits an art gallery from the University of Toronto, something he already plans to explore when he gets the chance. Byleth isn’t exactly sure what he’s expecting out of the exhibit practically dedicated to him. He supposes he can only hope that everything written was factual and not fabricated.
He feels Yuri’s arm lock in his as they near the display, and it calms his nerves greatly.
“Hoping to see something specific?” Yuri ponders.
“Hmm.” Byleth hums. “My journal, maybe. I left it behind in hopes that someone would find it and read about my life as king. I wrote a lot.”
“Is that so? Did you write anything about me?”
“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to find out.” Byleth turns to Yuri, a smile across his face. “Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing some of the armor I wore, maybe some letters I stamped. What about you?”
Yuri places his hand underneath his chin, thinking hard into the past. He then snaps his fingers when a thought forms suddenly. “Aubin’s relic. Yours too. If they’re anywhere where we left them, chances are they’re probably here.”
The first person in view of the exhibit is Claude, who has just about all of his belongings and pieces of gear on display in various sizes of glass casings. His favorite bandana, his journals full of notes on how to make various poisons, and even a few arrows that belonged to his legendary relic, Failnaught. The stained glass piece that was forged when he unified Fodlan was on display as well, and the two feel nothing but honor to have such a fearless leader move them to the pinnacle of success. To see his legacy live on today is something that Byleth will always be proud of.
Looking at Failnaught’s arrows makes Byleth think of the Sword of the Creator, and about how he was able to end the war, how he was able to achieve a lifetime of peace when he never picked it up again. It distracts him well enough to not realize that they were at his portion of the exhibit, where he immediately sees his old overcoat and the single crest stone that had once belonged to his chosen weapon.
Yuri tugs him closer to the pieces, where Byleth can clearly see small paintings, portraits of himself dressed in the clothes of the enlightened one. One catches his attention the most, one where he sits on a throne. He’s silent for a bit, unsure of how to truly feel about seeing himself so very long ago.
“I don’t remember posing for this.” He says, tipping his baseball hat downward. Yuri can’t tell if it’s to hide his bashfulness or to keep wandering eyes from asking about his identity.
“You probably didn’t.” Yuri says, looking down at the painting’s description. “This was a rendition of when you become the king of Fodlan. Martin Josten made this fifty years after we left from official record.”
“To think people were still making paintings of me, though…” The only person Byleth remembers painting him and Yuri was Ignatz, someone who was all too happy to paint the two whenever the moment struck best.
“Eh.” Yuri sighs before leading him to another painting. “You look better in person anyway.” He looks back up and his face sullens a bit as they continue to walk through the hall. He isn’t particularly bitter, but definitely not elated with what he sees next.
It’s a portrait of Edelgard. Dressed neatly in the grand crimson outfit she wore during the war, holding Amyr by its hilt and the spiked blade resting at her heel. Strangely enough, Hubert was nowhere to be found in the portrait, though, as he always was throughout their lives. Edelgard, in her grandness, sits upon a throne. From the dignified way she’s presented, anyone would have thought that she were the victor, that the Flame Emperor had taken over Fodlan and welcomed her own new dawn.
Below the painting was a marble bust sculpture of Edelgard, her face as a confident general. The amount of detail within each crevice of her hair, her crown, was truly astonishing. If her expression didn’t make her look intimidating, her horned crown did the job well. Even behind cloudy marble, Yuri knew how much that crown shone in the light, from across any battlefield. Yuri takes just a step closer, inspecting the description behind the glass.
Edelgard von Hresvelg, the Adrestian Emperor dedicated her life to reshaping the delicate political structure of Fodlan. As the initiator of the Five Year War, she fought bravely to ensure peace and equality to those who were not born into nobility, as well as many other factors that once determined a person’s worth. What came was not without sacrifice, however. She took her position seriously and only used bloodshed when absolutely necessary.
Khalid von Reigan, leading the Leicester Alliance, was the one to slay the Adrestian Emperor.
Byleth walks up behind Yuri, keeping himself close. “Are you okay?”
Yuri manages to smirk. Byleth is grateful that he can tell it’s real, genuine. “I’m fine. It kinda just took me back, you know?”
“Mm.”
“It’s been… A very long time. Sometimes, I just forget that this happened, that she changed the lives of so many.” Yuri presses his hand to the side of his head. He looks back up at the painting again and sighs. “It’s been so long that I’ve gone thinking that she wasn’t real.” He looks up at Byleth, who does nothing but give a slight frown. He was forgetting as well. “I guess I’ve been living in what seems like a dream that I’ve forgotten all of my nightmares.”
“That’s not an easy thing to admit.” Byleth takes his hand and intertwines their fingers, rubbing his thumb over Yuri’s. It was a little thing, something that manages to bring some comfort to Yuri, a message that it was going to be okay.
“Ugh. Here I am getting emotional in a museum. We haven’t even gotten to my part yet.”
“I feel like I’m living in a dream, too.” Byleth says, letting himself be ushered on by his love. “The thing I like about it is that I never have to wake up.”
“You say the cheesiest things.” Yuri mutters. He turns his head to face Byleth. “But I feel the same.”
Byleth smiles and tightens his hold on Yuri’s hand. What follows suit are small memorials and pieces that were about the Golden Deer students, the accomplishments in their adult lives and memorials of them and their children. It was sweet, in a way, to have known that Byleth’s students lived happy, satisfying lives and to have gone peacefully, doing what they loved surrounded by people they loved.
While Yuri never particularly cared for his academy life with the Golden Deer, they had a special place in heart, always. An outcast such as himself fit in with such a judge-less group rather well, and he never found himself thinking twice about switching houses or even going back home. And when the war hit, when he went through so much to keep himself alive, he found his family, the Deer. And with the Deer came their leader, their professor, his husband. His world.
It was inevitable that they would stop at Yuri’s part of the exhibit, somewhere where Byleth finds more of himself as well. Byleth looks back and forth between the portraits and Yuri, trying to read into his thoughts. He watches Yuri cross his arms and look intensely at the old portrait of himself, his brows furrowing in what Byleth isn’t sure is confusion or bewilderment. Byleth turns his head to truly admire the craftsmanship put into the painting. He squints through his glasses, getting a closer look and eventually recognizing the style.
“Ignatz painted this.” Byleth whispers. “I watched him paint this. You.”
“...Yeah. Before we left for Faerghus to meet my mother. You thought the sunrise that day looked different than any other you’ve seen, and wanted a portrait of me with it to capture the moment.”
“It’s still true to this day.” Byleth’s eyes meet Yuri’s, and he gives him a smile.
“You have no idea how much I dreaded having been woken up so early for a damn painting .”
“How much do you think they’ll take for it?” Byleth asks, taking his phone out and snapping a picture. “If I’m the original person who asked for it, surely they’ll give it to me. Right?”
Yuri rolls his eyes and continues to walk along the exhibit, eyeing all of the used swords and healing magic books he used in his academy days. “I don’t want a huge painting of myself in our apartment. We have enough pictures of us as is.” He stops abruptly when a painting of him and Byleth comes into view, his eyes widening at the sweet memories coming back and almost sweeping him off of his feet.
“That’s true.” Byleth slips his phone back into his pocket and steps over to Yuri. “Lets just hope they put it in a…” His words die down as his eyes linger upwards to see their shared painting.
They’re dressed in white and gold ceremonial attire, with subtle violet accents and golden crowns. The memory of it all takes the voice out of Yuri’s throat, and he’s left speechless. Their white gloves match as Byleth gently holds his husband’s hand with all of the care in the world. The world is bright and green around them, and they’re both sure that this was painted in the courtyard, only hours after their wedding ceremony. Yuri looks at the smile he has in the portrait, and he can’t help but smile in his current life as well, absolutely mesmerized by the emotional ties he never knew he had to such a piece of art.
Byleth wraps an arm around Yuri’s waist and pulls him closer. “Do you feel it too?”
“Feel what? The pounding in my chest when I look at the portrait of the happiest day of my life? Trust me, I’d feel it if I had a heartbeat.” A chuckle forms from Yuri’s throat, and Byleth feels his cheeks warm up.
“Hmm. I suppose you’re right.” He bends down to inspect the description written for the two.
As the new leader of the United Kingdom of Fodlan, Byleth Eisner worked tirelessly to reform and rebuild in the aftermath of such a devastating war. Constantly at his side during that time was his husband, Yuri Leclerc, whose policy proposals led, time and again, to better education and opportunities for the less fortunate. Shortly after the war, the two had a royal ceremony in Garreg Mach Monastery, where many friends and families, nobles and commoners alike, came to watch and bask in the merriment.
The painting above was created by Ignatz Victor, who often painted portraits of the couple. After working to ensure a bright and prosperous future for Fodlan, the couple stepped back from the public eye and vanished from official record. At the end of the day, it is said that under the rule of the two kings, Fodlan has never grown more.
Further along this exhibit are notes shared between the two over the course of their lives.
Byleth smiles, hums. “They spelled your name wrong.”
“It’s hard to spell Ancil . I don’t blame them.” Yuri whispers. He walks further, eyeing the papers fitted into glass frames. Their notes were something special to each other, he’ll admit. There was something thrilling about passing notes to each other in class, or when Byleth had to fly to Faerghus by himself to meet with other nobles and friends, after all. Compared to Byleth’s texts in today’s age, these notes from him would be the epitome of romance. Yuri smirks as he reads through them, allowing his memory to dive into where it was hundreds of years ago.
Yuri,
When I said I had missed Faerghus, I meant that I missed it with you in the picture. It doesn’t feel like home without you. While I am away on very important leave, I wish it would end swiftly so that I can return to my duties at the monastery.
I trust that our advisers are not giving you much trouble. I understand that being a king is hard. I did not teach you this when I was your tutor. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an amazing job. You’re a fantastic king, an encouraging leader. I am truly honored to have you as my husband.
I will hopefully return soon. I miss you greatly. I will bring you your Faerghus sweets upon my return. They would go perfectly with honeyed tea.
Your love,
Byleth
Byleth,
The crown I wear is a heavy one, though I’m happy to report that it hasn’t been heavy enough to cloud my perception of those around me.
To be honest, I haven’t been paying much attention to our advisers as of late. Many of the monastery children have tugged on my cape and robes too much for me to ignore. I’m sure you understand. Just the other day, a child named Emilia had told me that she saw you watering lilies in the greenhouse before you left. Funny how those are my favorite type of flower. I’ll pretend she didn’t tell me that.
Yes, yes. I miss you as well. I won’t go out and say the bed feels cold without you, but some days are lonelier than others. I hope for your swift return, though only for your promise of sweets.
Please do not overwork yourself. You and I are both too young and beautiful to start growing gray hairs. Say hello to my mother for me if you can.
-Yuri
“Your handwriting hasn’t changed a bit.” Byleth smiles and looks over at Yuri, who looks nothing short of attached to the letters that he wrote at one point to the man standing beside him. He’s always loved the way Yuri writes in cursive, the way he neatly curves his f’s and y’s.
“I’m amazed I was able to read yours.” Yuri replies. He looks over onto another pair of letters.
Yuri,
I’ve seen you work for hours on end, well into the night. I worry that you haven’t been eating as much as you did before. I fear that you are burnt out.Please do not fret for what I’m about to propose to you. I have kept our interests and positions in check, and I think that this decision is for the better.
I think we should go on vacation. You can pick the destination as well as the duration. Surely, Seteth and the others will handle the work. I await your reply.
Have you eaten today?
Your Love,
Byleth
Byleth,
I appreciate your concern. Your fears and worries are nothing to be concerned about, however. I am perfectly fine and have been taking care of myself. With that being said, I’m going to have to officially decline your request for time off. There’s simply too much to do and I cannot afford to abandon my duties as a king.
I’m joking, of course. The idea of a vacation sounds heavenly and we should plan as soon as you return. With enough rest, of course. I fear that the round table will ask much of us as soon as you step off of your wyvern.
Home is as busy as ever, though I know my responsibilities as well as my limits. I am tired, but I am okay. I know when to take a break, and I’m taking one now as I write this to you.
Let’s plan this trip of ours when you return. I have a feeling that we’ll be able to see the northern lights in Faerghus if we’re swift enough in the coming winter season. I’ve always wanted to show you them. Please stay safe.
-Yuri
P.S. Thank you for reminding me.
P.P.S. Your cats miss you. But not as much as I.
Yuri feels his face twist ever so slightly. “Geez. Was I always this tacky?” He whispers, and Byleth replies with only a soft chuckle.
Next to the last of the letters is another marble sculpture, though this one, Yuri is pleasantly surprised to see himself, and not the Emperor of Flame. Yuri stares at it rather intensely, focusing on the details of his hair, his face, just about everything that he found unique about himself. The sculpture holds a stern expression, and for a brief second, he thinks that a rigid face looks good on him. He takes another step closer, his hand still locked with Byleth’s, squeezing ever so gently to grab his attention.
Byleth feels his throat tighten slightly at the sight of Yuri, his everything, staring back at himself in such a different change of scenery, a different life. He thinks he’s dreaming again, but he rubs his thumb over Yuri’s hand again, and it’s all the confirmation he needs to know that it’s real. He looks beautiful, of course. Byleth isn’t sure if you could truly mess up any piece of art when it came to Yuri. Just as beautiful as—
“They got my nose wrong.”
Byleth blinks. “Eh?”
Yuri points at his face, and then the sculpture. “My nose. Whoever did this…” He bends down to look at the artist. “Elmar Blanke. He made it too round. Mine is clearly more pointed. Right?”
“Ah…”
“There’s a clear difference.”
“You’re right.” Byleth says, not being able to tell the difference whatsoever. Yuri probably knows, as he always does.
There wasn’t much more that the museum had to offer in terms of the exhibit. At least, not much more that they cared too much about. A wall for Seiros here, another for Nemesis there. Rather than relive bitter memories that were forced upon them, they decide to take their leave. Too much dwelling on the past wasn’t good for their health. That’s what Yuri had told Byleth, anyway.
The rest of their day off is spent in relative silence, but if their affection could speak, they might as well be screaming. Byleth isn’t sure if it’s seeing them in their roots earlier, but Yuri seems to be more flustered tonight, more bashful. He feels Yuri’s skin contract when he wraps his hands around his bare waist in their bed, and his fingertips brush against his ribs.
He pulls up when their lips separate, to catch his breath, but to also speak his mind. A kiss for Yuri’s thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem… I don’t know. Bashful?”
A scoff. “I am not .”
“I can feel your body tensing up.”
Once again, Yuri doesn’t give a direct answer. He flattens his lips and stares into Byleth’s bright green eyes, the eyes he can just get lost in within moments. Byleth’s concerned expression looms over him, but it’s almost welcoming. It also makes breathing a little difficult as he finds the air between them hard to catch in his lungs. He can always count on Byleth to take his breath away, whether he wants him to or not.
“Yuri?” He asks. One of his hands makes its way from his husband’s waist to his soft lilac hair spreading across their pillows, giving a soothing rub to his head. “Are you okay?”
And Yuri can’t keep anything from Byleth. Naturally. He would never at this point, anyway. “It’s just…” He sighs and presses a firm hand to Byleth’s cheek, whose eye twitches from the chill of his wedding ring. “You’re right.”
“Is it because of earlier?” Byleth smiles slightly and rests his head on Yuri’s chest.
“Mhm. Seeing all that stuff, seeing us hundreds of years ago… Portraits of our wedding, our notes to each other, seeing our crowns next to each other…” His hand moves, and now its tangled in Byleth’s hair. “It just made me feel grateful. Lucky to have you.”
“You always said that luck was on your side.”
“Ugh. I sure was a cocky one. But it's true, I guess.” He starts to play with a bundle of stray hair. “When I saw myself from so long ago, I realized how much of my plans for my life had changed. Did I ever tell you I didn’t want to marry anyone?”
“It’s news to me, but it’s not surprising. You were very stubborn back then. Still are. I wouldn’t think marriage or love would ever be on your mind.” Byleth begins to trace Yuri’s collarbone with his finger. Then, the cut of his chest. I didn’t think I’d get married, either.
Yuri exhales. “I thought I’d live and die alone. If I was lucky, I’d die in my sixties by old age. Poison or assassination if I was unlucky. I didn’t want kids, but that was because a partner wasn’t on my mind. And then you came along.”
Byleth stops tracing. “Do you want kids?”
“That’s not what I’m trying to talk about.”
“Hmm.”
“Anyway, you came along, and totally threw a wrench in my plans. I fought a war for you and fell for you in the process.” He chuckles, tugging on Byleth’s hair just a little bit. “The next thing I know, I’m getting married and getting crowned the king of Fodlan. And then, my blood is being transfused and I happen to stop aging, stop caring.”
“A far cry from dying alone at sixty.”
“Exactly. But that’s how love works. It makes you do and say things you normally wouldn’t. It’s unique.”
Byleth rises, his hands placed on both sides of Yuri’s head. He looks down at his husband, a wide smile on his face. “Poetic.”
Again, Yuri scoffs and turns his head. “Hilarious. I’m willing to bet you didn’t hear eighty percent of what I just said.”
“I heard all of what you said.” Byleth whispers, dipping back and burying his face into Yuri’s neck, but not before giving a couple of kisses on his soft skin. “...And I know that you never planned to rule over the country or become immortal. Instead of having a simple life, you were thrust into an era of kingship and laws, rebuilding the world anew.”
Yuri’s arms tighten around Byleth’s waist just a little more, allowing himself to be embraced in all his warmth. “Yes, but a simple life wouldn’t be much fun, would it? Rebuilding our home with you was more fun than stressful.” He admits, grinning. “So long as I have you, I’m happy.
“I love you.” Byleth says, his voice gentle, as if he had to prove it. “Always. Always .”
“Mm. I love you.” Yuri replies, pressing a kiss to his head.
Yuri feels Byleth’s soft breath tickle his neck as moments pass in nothing but each other’s warmth. He was always first to fall asleep, and Yuri always enjoys the moments of serenity as Byleth holds him as he dozes off. Eventually, Yuri joins him in sleep. With an infinite amount of time on his hands comes an infinite amount of sweet dreams, pleasant aspirations of anything and everything that he couldn’t have so many years ago.
Byleth likes to think that the universe works in mysterious ways, that what brought him and Yuri together was nothing more than fate. And some luck. He’s not sure what exactly the world has left to throw at them — or the Goddess for that matter — but he knows for a fact that with Yuri by his side, as he always has been in the better parts of his life, he is able to find the strength, the love inside him, in order to keep moving. Yuri was his beloved, his everything, his world. Nothing in their infinite lives would keep them apart.
And that, he will forever be thankful for.