[fic] Come As You Are
Title: Come As You Are
Characters/ pairings: woman!Seth/Eirika
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 3273
Warnings: references to rape, sexism, and homophobia
Genre: Drama
Author's note:This is a result of the spectacular genderswap pieces in the X-Men: First Class fandom on Livejournal. In particular, this piece is a result of the opening lines of waterpulse ’s “ Bless the Broken Road.” This was also written while listening to Rebecca Loebe’s cover of Come As You Are and with crimsonmorgan ’s encouragement. This is cross-posted on FF.n, but the version posted here retains the original formatting.
Feedback is greatly appreciated considering the nature of this piece.
Last Edited: August 4, 2011 (thanks amielleon )
i.
His wife had lost their first child, and that their second is born female does not dissuade him at all. He has chosen this name and will not be moved from it; this is their child, and after many failed pregnancies that never came to be, he will not change this decision.
So, she is named Seth.
Her father is similarly unmoved when he decides his daughter will continue the long-standing family profession of knighthood. Seth’s mother’s fingers go white at the knuckles when her father makes the announcement over breakfast. Seth supposes her mother would’ve felt this way whether or not she’d been born a girl.
What she does know is that this means her mother will cease trying to match her up with the neighborhood boys who she’s never been interested in.
She isn’t quite right though. Her mother still laments her hair, how strapping her chest down would dampen her growth. She no longer outright makes remarks about husbands, but Seth knows what she means.
She cuts her hair as a page and the prodding begins. They ask her why she would cut her long, long hair. She had never cut it before; it’d been her one concession to her mother.
It’s not practical, she says. She is (always) already disadvantage by virtue of her gender, ropy muscle does not come easily to her, and learning to breathe with her chest bound is difficult.
(She is saving money so that when, not if, she makes it to knighthood, she can specially order Frelian armor made for women.)
The Frelian pegasus knights wear their hair long, they reply.
Frelian knights, attack quickly from the air, and do not remain long enough on land, is all she says.
So she cuts it as short as any of the other boys’. She does not need to draw attention to herself; being seen as different in the midst of battle would leave her dead, or worse, quicker than she could draw a sword or flee.
Things become complicated when she’s celebrating her new squiredom with the others. They take her along to a brothel as a joke, not really expecting her to accept when they offer. She goes, despite her distaste, because if she doesn’t she’ll have that much more to prove.
The ale is sour and disgusting and she doesn’t know how the others drink it by the mugfull. She sips it though, and watches as the boys grab at the women’s breasts and slide their grimy hands up their skirts.
That they are attracted to women is not surprising to her. Rather, this is what surprises her: One of the establishment’s women mistakes her for an older boy (one of the few benefits of her sex; she grows tall long before her peers, but this will last only a few short years). As the woman leans down to whisper in Seth’s ear, Seth finds the soft skin of her neck and the strong scent of perfume infinitely more alluring than anything she can remember.
She clenches her thighs.
Her monthlies come, and it is with a mix of great embarrassment, and a refusal to be cowed by that, she goes to the healer and asks for rags.
The king’s head knight dies protecting him. He hears of a hidden assassin and works in secret to defend the king and dies doing so. This was the knight who smiled at her once and showed her the trick to using lancereavers. She thinks him brave and wants to be like him: steadfast.
She learns the power her voice can have by watching the older squires when they’re in charge of the pages. The strong voices are like rafts in the water. People would follow those voices, not the ones that were soft and polite. Soft and polite were voices for serving in court and nowhere else.
So when she is first put in charge of a small group of pages; she makes sure her voice does not break, and is loud, clear, and strong. The pages do not disobey her, and she is glad.
Frigid aren’t you? they say. A good roll in the hay would fix that. They offer, she refuses. Telling them she has no interest in men would do nothing to stop them.
She continues to work on her lance and swordwork until they will not stand a chance against her.
Seth doesn’t believe in sex until marriage, but the odds of her marrying a woman are nonexistent, so with the aid of alcohol, she indulges. She is in charge of wrangling the squires at the brothel, and every single one of them has disappeared, so no one notices when she disappears as well.
She wakes the next morning sticky and sated.
Who’d have thought, her bedmate says, that you had anything soft, as she grabs Seth’s breasts.
(Seth is unused to her breasts going unbound, the weight and swing of them are foreign to her; this body is as foreign as the northern oceans sometimes.)
Seth feels a bit sick, but reminds herself there will never be marriage for her. She kisses the woman on the cheek and leaves her coins on the table.
She returns to the barracks and when the boys cheer her for finding a whore (a man, they presume, there are such a thing), she pushes the nausea down until she reaches the safety of an empty room.
She will be a knight, and there will be nothing to be found wrong with her. If she holds duty close to her heart, there will be no reason they can give to her to dismiss or discharge her.
She will.
She will.
She becomes a knight at last, and she will be damned if she gives up any of this after all the work she has done for these years of service.
ii.
What is the most important thing to a knight? her father asked her.
She replied without effort. Duty. A knight’s duty to their liege.
He ruffled her hair affectionately.
Don’t forget, he says, a knight without his duty is not one at all; a knight can sacrifice honor, but never duty. Duty is what will make you a knight the king is proud to call his own.
Her mother’s flour coated hands came to rest on his shoulder. Don’t forget, she added, duty isn’t how you won me.
He smiled at her, and Seth saw the warmth there.
She becomes a general. Although she is qualified, she is not sure if she’s earned it or that this is a token nod to her sex.
She works even harder so there will be no doubt to others, and herself, that she deserves this position.
There will be no doubt she knows her duty and place as a knight.
You don’t know your place as a woman, they say.
What does that matter, she replies, when I am a knight?
They call her the Silver Knight, and it is double-edged name. For although she earns it taking up a silver lance she is not supposed to have in defense of a lord, she is also already a general.
She suspects that her persistent encounters with the princess are because she is a woman, and not at risk for the folly of romance. She is called to escort the princess on more rounds than normal for other knights. The princess is quiet, much better suited to marriage than the rapier she trains with. She looks just like her brother, is probably why she keeps her hair so long.
The princess is rather what Seth expects a princess to be. They talk little.
She does not wear women’s clothing anymore. She wore a dress to a formal dinner once. Remarks that had long been quiet resumed their whispered lives all over again.
Why don’t you wear dresses more often? You look quite pretty in them.
You could find yourself a husband - or wench if that’s what you prefer, you do have a pretty long lance there.
If you grew your hair out you wouldn’t look like a boy playing a woman.
Forgot you had breasts there, General.
She wears military wear from then on to court and any requisite dinner. If she is out of duty, which is rare, she will go in trews with her chest still strapped down.
The years have taught her how to ignore the constant ache her peers’ words bring, and how tightly to bind her breasts so that there is only the slightest hint of them when she is without armor.
They flee Castle Renais. The princess resists leaving with her, trying to escape her and return to her father. Seth wants to grab her face, but settles for her wrist.
Look at me, Seth says. We must leave, lest both you and your father die, and then where will your brother be?
The spark in the princess’ eyes surprises her. I will be there for my brother, she says with a voice choked with tears, but that fire is there. And if he is fallen too, I will rise to his place.
That she acknowledges her brother is likely dead gives Seth pause.
She offers her other hand, and the princess takes it. Seth pulls her up to the saddle.
Perhaps it is this fire that tempts her to ride far past Castle Frelia. That fire in her eyes will not last long in war.
When she was still a page, she was taken to witness battle on the Carcinian border. When they arrived, the village was smoking. Women’s mud-caked dresses were pushed to their waists, and Seth could see their naked sex, the site of violation by the heavy force of a man. People were still fleeing, and only the women were dragged down by their hair to be raped; the men had their throat slit.
She vomits, she was not alone in this, but she was the only one who is asked if watching the women was too much for her.
She later learns this is a test to see who is fit for knighthood and who is not.
Do it this way, she tells the princess. Seth grasps the princess’ wrist and turns it, adjusting her grip on the sword as well. The way you’re holding it now, it’ll be knocked out easily.
You might want to cut your hair too, Seth adds. She is tempted to grab it and use it to throw her to the ground in demonstration; that’s what she’d do if she had a woman recruit, but there are none, and this is the princess. She keeps her hands firmly by her side instead.
The princess merely looks at her. I must be recognizable to my people, she plainly states.
Seth says nothing more, but there is begrudging respect where before there was only fealty.
Her lady barks out orders. Her strategy and rapier work grow steadily and firmly. While she will never be the strategist Prince Innes is, she is more than capable. More than what Seth believes a princess should and can be, and she admires her for it.
Seth begins to bow to her lady’s judgment.
When her lady professes her love, Seth doesn’t know what to do. Where a princess of all people would learn, or have the fortitude, to ask for another woman’s favor is beyond her. This is not done.
Her lady walks away, and Seth murmurs to herself now that there is no one else is to hear.
I wanted to take you far, far away.
There is rustling, and Seth realizes Eirika hasn’t left as she thought. She can’t find it in herself to care.
She is a knight. There is no room for things like romance, especially one with a woman, a princess, her liege. They will call her craven, claim she is led astray by her womanly feelings.
To admit to love is to admit some imaginable fallacy of her heart. She is but a woman beneath the armor, they will say. To love a woman, they will say, I always knew she was too frigid for a man. To love her lady, And she is but weak down to her marrow.
She should be armor marked only by other swords from battle, not by rust from her own disregard.
The memory of Eirika’s questing fingers caress her side like a ghost. The wound from Valter’s lance is angry, the skin tight, and she is worried it will break if she fights too hard. And if it breaks, there is the risk of infection. But there is no other option.
She can’t forget the feel of those fingers, and her own desire to grasp hold of the princess’ hair for reasons that have nothing to do with lessons involving swords.
(This is a slightly open door she should not go through, a mountain on the other side that she should not climb.)
Sir Garcia reminds her of her father in some ways. As if this is what her father might’ve been like if he’d been more open of how much he loved his wife - or, if he’d loved his wife more than his liege.
You should find a man, a lover, get married. It will do you good to have a family to go home to.
A husband? She isn’t sure what makes her say this, but perhaps it’s because she always wondered if her father would support her even in this. You may be right, but it will take me some time to find a willing woman.
Well, he says, that works too.
She lets out a breath she doesn’t know she held.
I did it for you, Monica.
Eirika… I always loved you…
Ismaire, all I wanted was you -
Words of love plague her along this war. If she keeps Eirika at bay and keeps duty close to heart, perhaps she will avoid love and all the trappings of it.
As much as she enjoys the time spent with Eirika, she has nothing more to teach her. She told her as much, but Eirika insisted on continuing to practice with her. Seth put a stop to this after the love confession.
Seth resumes the lessons after General Garcia’s words and a good look inside of herself. Eirika warily accepts, and Seth promises herself she will never give her another reason to be wary of her.
As Eirika disarms her at last, she wonders if this feeling pumping in her veins is happiness.
Happiness, she realizes, is worth more than duty.
Sir Garcia smiles at her. I knew you’d figure it out. Now I just gotta knock it into that small knight, Franz.
iii.
There is never a good time for love confessions, and Seth is not sure this is love. She is happy though, and that is enough for her.
She is beside Eirika as she buries Lyon, and standing behind her throne as Eirika is crowned Restoration Queen.
And slowly, ever so slowly, Eirika’s smiles makes her world glow.
Forde thanks her once, I finally got to paint it.
Paint what?
Her smile, General.
As Eirika begins to study diplomacy, Seth finds books for her. Eirika returns them to Seth’s room, along with an item or two of her own. Soon enough, even her clothes are beginning to be folded alongside Seth’s.
Their first kiss is in an empty hallway as Seth’s escorting Eirika back to her chambers.
The torchlight makes her face gentle, and Eirika leans up on her tiptoes to seal her mouth against Seth’s.
Seth forgets about everything but Eirika for a little, but after she murmurs, I’m sorry, milady, that was not proper of me -
Oh Seth, she says. Right now it is proper for you to make me as ridiculously happy as possible.
So Seth leans down and obliges.
When Seth tells Eirika she needs to continue to trim her nails, Seth realizes Eirika doesn’t know as much about this as she thought.
Eirika asks why since she no longer needs to use her rapier daily. Seth turns all different shades of red as she attempts to muster the fortitude to explain the finer mechanics of loving a woman.
The people whisper behind their backs, she knows this. A woman general, a woman diplomat; they are strange and appropriate bedfellows for one another. But Seth now wakes up with Eirika curled into her side. She can feel Eirika’s breathing against her ribs and her palm on the curve of her hip, and Seth’s own blunt, short fingernails scrape along Eirika’s scalp. For Seth, this is more than she ever hoped for.
I won’t grow it out, she says as Eirika fingers the fringes of what remains of her hair.
That’s fine, Eirika replies with a smile. I’m not cutting mine to match yours.
There are rumors, and some scandal, as the rest of Eirika’s belongings make their slow march to Seth’s room.
The staff is wise enough to say nothing to their faces.
She has thought too little of her men. Nothing changes between her and them.
When they go out together, they are not overly affectionate. They do not kiss, they try not to let their eyes linger on each other, but they stand close together, and when they walk side by side, their hands are close enough to look like they’re hand in hand.
They try not to make it too obvious, but everyone knows they’re in love. There’s no other way to explain the way they shine when they’re together.
Eirika’s words are always sincere. The marvel she has for Seth’s body is genuine and contains none of the distaste she is used to.
Seth tells her things like, Frelia does not sell their armor to outsiders; I begged, and in the end, I went to Carcino for my armor.
Eirika doesn’t laugh at her. Instead, she’ll say things like, Once, Ephraim and I would exchange places. Those were the only times Lyon ever kissed me.
After they make love, Eirika’s fingertips trace the lines of Seth’s body as Seth plays with Eirika’s hair. Seth imagines Eirika is mapping her body. The heavy swing of her breasts, the empty spaces, the places that are not corded with muscles, Seth begins to chart these places with Eirika.
You’re discovering me, Seth tells her.
Eirika shakes her head. No, this is all your own doing, and presses a kiss to her naval.
She is free, she is beautiful, she is all she ever wanted to be and more. Her father would have been proud.
I suppose so, Seth replies.
Seth enters their suite of rooms in only trews and an old shirt. Even here, she does not wear; that is no longer her, if it ever was. She does, however, leave the bandages from her chest neatly folded on the drawer outside their bedroom. She enters, feeling the movement of her hips - it is a straight-legged walk she has, not the bowed strut of a man - and the slight bounce of her breasts with each step.
Eirika is there in her silk nightgown reading in bed.
This is home, and the belonging that fills her chest is painfully sweet.
“I love you,” Seth says, surprising herself. Eirika slides from the sheets, leaving her book face down against them, and crosses the room to presses a kiss to the corner of Seth’s mouth.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Eirika’s eyes are bright with laughter, and Seth brings her into her arms and holds her tightly, the press of their bodies welcome and familiar.
Characters/ pairings: woman!Seth/Eirika
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 3273
Warnings: references to rape, sexism, and homophobia
Genre: Drama
Author's note:This is a result of the spectacular genderswap pieces in the X-Men: First Class fandom on Livejournal. In particular, this piece is a result of the opening lines of waterpulse ’s “ Bless the Broken Road.” This was also written while listening to Rebecca Loebe’s cover of Come As You Are and with crimsonmorgan ’s encouragement. This is cross-posted on FF.n, but the version posted here retains the original formatting.
Feedback is greatly appreciated considering the nature of this piece.
Last Edited: August 4, 2011 (thanks amielleon )
i.
His wife had lost their first child, and that their second is born female does not dissuade him at all. He has chosen this name and will not be moved from it; this is their child, and after many failed pregnancies that never came to be, he will not change this decision.
So, she is named Seth.
Her father is similarly unmoved when he decides his daughter will continue the long-standing family profession of knighthood. Seth’s mother’s fingers go white at the knuckles when her father makes the announcement over breakfast. Seth supposes her mother would’ve felt this way whether or not she’d been born a girl.
What she does know is that this means her mother will cease trying to match her up with the neighborhood boys who she’s never been interested in.
She isn’t quite right though. Her mother still laments her hair, how strapping her chest down would dampen her growth. She no longer outright makes remarks about husbands, but Seth knows what she means.
She cuts her hair as a page and the prodding begins. They ask her why she would cut her long, long hair. She had never cut it before; it’d been her one concession to her mother.
It’s not practical, she says. She is (always) already disadvantage by virtue of her gender, ropy muscle does not come easily to her, and learning to breathe with her chest bound is difficult.
(She is saving money so that when, not if, she makes it to knighthood, she can specially order Frelian armor made for women.)
The Frelian pegasus knights wear their hair long, they reply.
Frelian knights, attack quickly from the air, and do not remain long enough on land, is all she says.
So she cuts it as short as any of the other boys’. She does not need to draw attention to herself; being seen as different in the midst of battle would leave her dead, or worse, quicker than she could draw a sword or flee.
Things become complicated when she’s celebrating her new squiredom with the others. They take her along to a brothel as a joke, not really expecting her to accept when they offer. She goes, despite her distaste, because if she doesn’t she’ll have that much more to prove.
The ale is sour and disgusting and she doesn’t know how the others drink it by the mugfull. She sips it though, and watches as the boys grab at the women’s breasts and slide their grimy hands up their skirts.
That they are attracted to women is not surprising to her. Rather, this is what surprises her: One of the establishment’s women mistakes her for an older boy (one of the few benefits of her sex; she grows tall long before her peers, but this will last only a few short years). As the woman leans down to whisper in Seth’s ear, Seth finds the soft skin of her neck and the strong scent of perfume infinitely more alluring than anything she can remember.
She clenches her thighs.
Her monthlies come, and it is with a mix of great embarrassment, and a refusal to be cowed by that, she goes to the healer and asks for rags.
The king’s head knight dies protecting him. He hears of a hidden assassin and works in secret to defend the king and dies doing so. This was the knight who smiled at her once and showed her the trick to using lancereavers. She thinks him brave and wants to be like him: steadfast.
She learns the power her voice can have by watching the older squires when they’re in charge of the pages. The strong voices are like rafts in the water. People would follow those voices, not the ones that were soft and polite. Soft and polite were voices for serving in court and nowhere else.
So when she is first put in charge of a small group of pages; she makes sure her voice does not break, and is loud, clear, and strong. The pages do not disobey her, and she is glad.
Frigid aren’t you? they say. A good roll in the hay would fix that. They offer, she refuses. Telling them she has no interest in men would do nothing to stop them.
She continues to work on her lance and swordwork until they will not stand a chance against her.
Seth doesn’t believe in sex until marriage, but the odds of her marrying a woman are nonexistent, so with the aid of alcohol, she indulges. She is in charge of wrangling the squires at the brothel, and every single one of them has disappeared, so no one notices when she disappears as well.
She wakes the next morning sticky and sated.
Who’d have thought, her bedmate says, that you had anything soft, as she grabs Seth’s breasts.
(Seth is unused to her breasts going unbound, the weight and swing of them are foreign to her; this body is as foreign as the northern oceans sometimes.)
Seth feels a bit sick, but reminds herself there will never be marriage for her. She kisses the woman on the cheek and leaves her coins on the table.
She returns to the barracks and when the boys cheer her for finding a whore (a man, they presume, there are such a thing), she pushes the nausea down until she reaches the safety of an empty room.
She will be a knight, and there will be nothing to be found wrong with her. If she holds duty close to her heart, there will be no reason they can give to her to dismiss or discharge her.
She will.
She will.
She becomes a knight at last, and she will be damned if she gives up any of this after all the work she has done for these years of service.
ii.
What is the most important thing to a knight? her father asked her.
She replied without effort. Duty. A knight’s duty to their liege.
He ruffled her hair affectionately.
Don’t forget, he says, a knight without his duty is not one at all; a knight can sacrifice honor, but never duty. Duty is what will make you a knight the king is proud to call his own.
Her mother’s flour coated hands came to rest on his shoulder. Don’t forget, she added, duty isn’t how you won me.
He smiled at her, and Seth saw the warmth there.
She becomes a general. Although she is qualified, she is not sure if she’s earned it or that this is a token nod to her sex.
She works even harder so there will be no doubt to others, and herself, that she deserves this position.
There will be no doubt she knows her duty and place as a knight.
You don’t know your place as a woman, they say.
What does that matter, she replies, when I am a knight?
They call her the Silver Knight, and it is double-edged name. For although she earns it taking up a silver lance she is not supposed to have in defense of a lord, she is also already a general.
She suspects that her persistent encounters with the princess are because she is a woman, and not at risk for the folly of romance. She is called to escort the princess on more rounds than normal for other knights. The princess is quiet, much better suited to marriage than the rapier she trains with. She looks just like her brother, is probably why she keeps her hair so long.
The princess is rather what Seth expects a princess to be. They talk little.
She does not wear women’s clothing anymore. She wore a dress to a formal dinner once. Remarks that had long been quiet resumed their whispered lives all over again.
Why don’t you wear dresses more often? You look quite pretty in them.
You could find yourself a husband - or wench if that’s what you prefer, you do have a pretty long lance there.
If you grew your hair out you wouldn’t look like a boy playing a woman.
Forgot you had breasts there, General.
She wears military wear from then on to court and any requisite dinner. If she is out of duty, which is rare, she will go in trews with her chest still strapped down.
The years have taught her how to ignore the constant ache her peers’ words bring, and how tightly to bind her breasts so that there is only the slightest hint of them when she is without armor.
They flee Castle Renais. The princess resists leaving with her, trying to escape her and return to her father. Seth wants to grab her face, but settles for her wrist.
Look at me, Seth says. We must leave, lest both you and your father die, and then where will your brother be?
The spark in the princess’ eyes surprises her. I will be there for my brother, she says with a voice choked with tears, but that fire is there. And if he is fallen too, I will rise to his place.
That she acknowledges her brother is likely dead gives Seth pause.
She offers her other hand, and the princess takes it. Seth pulls her up to the saddle.
Perhaps it is this fire that tempts her to ride far past Castle Frelia. That fire in her eyes will not last long in war.
When she was still a page, she was taken to witness battle on the Carcinian border. When they arrived, the village was smoking. Women’s mud-caked dresses were pushed to their waists, and Seth could see their naked sex, the site of violation by the heavy force of a man. People were still fleeing, and only the women were dragged down by their hair to be raped; the men had their throat slit.
She vomits, she was not alone in this, but she was the only one who is asked if watching the women was too much for her.
She later learns this is a test to see who is fit for knighthood and who is not.
Do it this way, she tells the princess. Seth grasps the princess’ wrist and turns it, adjusting her grip on the sword as well. The way you’re holding it now, it’ll be knocked out easily.
You might want to cut your hair too, Seth adds. She is tempted to grab it and use it to throw her to the ground in demonstration; that’s what she’d do if she had a woman recruit, but there are none, and this is the princess. She keeps her hands firmly by her side instead.
The princess merely looks at her. I must be recognizable to my people, she plainly states.
Seth says nothing more, but there is begrudging respect where before there was only fealty.
Her lady barks out orders. Her strategy and rapier work grow steadily and firmly. While she will never be the strategist Prince Innes is, she is more than capable. More than what Seth believes a princess should and can be, and she admires her for it.
Seth begins to bow to her lady’s judgment.
When her lady professes her love, Seth doesn’t know what to do. Where a princess of all people would learn, or have the fortitude, to ask for another woman’s favor is beyond her. This is not done.
Her lady walks away, and Seth murmurs to herself now that there is no one else is to hear.
I wanted to take you far, far away.
There is rustling, and Seth realizes Eirika hasn’t left as she thought. She can’t find it in herself to care.
She is a knight. There is no room for things like romance, especially one with a woman, a princess, her liege. They will call her craven, claim she is led astray by her womanly feelings.
To admit to love is to admit some imaginable fallacy of her heart. She is but a woman beneath the armor, they will say. To love a woman, they will say, I always knew she was too frigid for a man. To love her lady, And she is but weak down to her marrow.
She should be armor marked only by other swords from battle, not by rust from her own disregard.
The memory of Eirika’s questing fingers caress her side like a ghost. The wound from Valter’s lance is angry, the skin tight, and she is worried it will break if she fights too hard. And if it breaks, there is the risk of infection. But there is no other option.
She can’t forget the feel of those fingers, and her own desire to grasp hold of the princess’ hair for reasons that have nothing to do with lessons involving swords.
(This is a slightly open door she should not go through, a mountain on the other side that she should not climb.)
Sir Garcia reminds her of her father in some ways. As if this is what her father might’ve been like if he’d been more open of how much he loved his wife - or, if he’d loved his wife more than his liege.
You should find a man, a lover, get married. It will do you good to have a family to go home to.
A husband? She isn’t sure what makes her say this, but perhaps it’s because she always wondered if her father would support her even in this. You may be right, but it will take me some time to find a willing woman.
Well, he says, that works too.
She lets out a breath she doesn’t know she held.
I did it for you, Monica.
Eirika… I always loved you…
Ismaire, all I wanted was you -
Words of love plague her along this war. If she keeps Eirika at bay and keeps duty close to heart, perhaps she will avoid love and all the trappings of it.
As much as she enjoys the time spent with Eirika, she has nothing more to teach her. She told her as much, but Eirika insisted on continuing to practice with her. Seth put a stop to this after the love confession.
Seth resumes the lessons after General Garcia’s words and a good look inside of herself. Eirika warily accepts, and Seth promises herself she will never give her another reason to be wary of her.
As Eirika disarms her at last, she wonders if this feeling pumping in her veins is happiness.
Happiness, she realizes, is worth more than duty.
Sir Garcia smiles at her. I knew you’d figure it out. Now I just gotta knock it into that small knight, Franz.
iii.
There is never a good time for love confessions, and Seth is not sure this is love. She is happy though, and that is enough for her.
She is beside Eirika as she buries Lyon, and standing behind her throne as Eirika is crowned Restoration Queen.
And slowly, ever so slowly, Eirika’s smiles makes her world glow.
Forde thanks her once, I finally got to paint it.
Paint what?
Her smile, General.
As Eirika begins to study diplomacy, Seth finds books for her. Eirika returns them to Seth’s room, along with an item or two of her own. Soon enough, even her clothes are beginning to be folded alongside Seth’s.
Their first kiss is in an empty hallway as Seth’s escorting Eirika back to her chambers.
The torchlight makes her face gentle, and Eirika leans up on her tiptoes to seal her mouth against Seth’s.
Seth forgets about everything but Eirika for a little, but after she murmurs, I’m sorry, milady, that was not proper of me -
Oh Seth, she says. Right now it is proper for you to make me as ridiculously happy as possible.
So Seth leans down and obliges.
When Seth tells Eirika she needs to continue to trim her nails, Seth realizes Eirika doesn’t know as much about this as she thought.
Eirika asks why since she no longer needs to use her rapier daily. Seth turns all different shades of red as she attempts to muster the fortitude to explain the finer mechanics of loving a woman.
The people whisper behind their backs, she knows this. A woman general, a woman diplomat; they are strange and appropriate bedfellows for one another. But Seth now wakes up with Eirika curled into her side. She can feel Eirika’s breathing against her ribs and her palm on the curve of her hip, and Seth’s own blunt, short fingernails scrape along Eirika’s scalp. For Seth, this is more than she ever hoped for.
I won’t grow it out, she says as Eirika fingers the fringes of what remains of her hair.
That’s fine, Eirika replies with a smile. I’m not cutting mine to match yours.
There are rumors, and some scandal, as the rest of Eirika’s belongings make their slow march to Seth’s room.
The staff is wise enough to say nothing to their faces.
She has thought too little of her men. Nothing changes between her and them.
When they go out together, they are not overly affectionate. They do not kiss, they try not to let their eyes linger on each other, but they stand close together, and when they walk side by side, their hands are close enough to look like they’re hand in hand.
They try not to make it too obvious, but everyone knows they’re in love. There’s no other way to explain the way they shine when they’re together.
Eirika’s words are always sincere. The marvel she has for Seth’s body is genuine and contains none of the distaste she is used to.
Seth tells her things like, Frelia does not sell their armor to outsiders; I begged, and in the end, I went to Carcino for my armor.
Eirika doesn’t laugh at her. Instead, she’ll say things like, Once, Ephraim and I would exchange places. Those were the only times Lyon ever kissed me.
After they make love, Eirika’s fingertips trace the lines of Seth’s body as Seth plays with Eirika’s hair. Seth imagines Eirika is mapping her body. The heavy swing of her breasts, the empty spaces, the places that are not corded with muscles, Seth begins to chart these places with Eirika.
You’re discovering me, Seth tells her.
Eirika shakes her head. No, this is all your own doing, and presses a kiss to her naval.
She is free, she is beautiful, she is all she ever wanted to be and more. Her father would have been proud.
I suppose so, Seth replies.
Seth enters their suite of rooms in only trews and an old shirt. Even here, she does not wear; that is no longer her, if it ever was. She does, however, leave the bandages from her chest neatly folded on the drawer outside their bedroom. She enters, feeling the movement of her hips - it is a straight-legged walk she has, not the bowed strut of a man - and the slight bounce of her breasts with each step.
Eirika is there in her silk nightgown reading in bed.
This is home, and the belonging that fills her chest is painfully sweet.
“I love you,” Seth says, surprising herself. Eirika slides from the sheets, leaving her book face down against them, and crosses the room to presses a kiss to the corner of Seth’s mouth.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Eirika’s eyes are bright with laughter, and Seth brings her into her arms and holds her tightly, the press of their bodies welcome and familiar.