A/N: Thank you to all who have supported this story so far! This chapter features a Goddess Tower scene I reeeeeally wanted in the game. I was so upset when I saw that you couldn't attend the ball with Seteth :) This was so fun to write so I hope you enjoy! Sending you all my love!

xo Ever

Finally, the morning of the long-awaited Annual Ball dawns on Garreg Mach monastery, and everything is thrown into a bustling hubbub. Seteth has barely exited his quarters when he's ambushed by Flayn, twirling around in a black dress with a full skirt, the waistline dotted with big golden bows.

"What do you think, Father? I made it all by myself!" Flayn's smile is jubilant, and Seteth can't help but mirror it with one of his own. She looks so- so grown up, and the thought of it sends a stab of sadness through his heart.

"You look quite radiant, Flayn." Seteth holds her hand and lifts it above her head, and Flayn twirls under the arch his arm makes, giggling just as she used to when she was barely five years old. "Although I do hope you will conduct yourself properly at this ball. Perhaps I should attend as your chaperone."

"Absolutely not!" Flayn shrieks, quickly tearing her hand away from Seteth's. "There is no need to worry! I am perfectly capable of handling myself." She folds her arms petulantly, and Seteth sighs. He supposes one night of fun won't hurt anything. Why is it so hard to let Flayn out of his reach?

"I suppose…" Seteth gives her a stern look. "Do behave yourself, won't you? Tell me immediately if anyone starts making unwanted advances. I will deal with them."

"Stop acting like this, Father! I am no longer a child!" Flayn glares at Seteth, but even her darkest stare doesn't contain even an ounce of venom, and Seteth raises an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" He folds his arms, trying to hide his smile, and Flayn nods.

"It is so." She gives him one last reprimanding look before turning on her heel and galloping away, the little gold bows of her dress swaying in the drafty corridor. When exactly did she become so grown-up?

Seteth makes a point to avoid Byleth for the whole day, and he spends much of it in the Ballroom, pointing out the proper places for ribbons and immersing himself in the silly little details of decorating that he has little affinity for.

Lady Rhea hovers at his side all day, asking him why he seems so 'tense', even 'tenser than usual,' and why he keeps glancing over his shoulder like he's waiting for someone. Seteth reassures her that there is absolutely nothing wrong with him. Another lie.

There is, of course, something wrong with him, mainly being the fact that the sensation of Byleth's fingertips brushing against his skin has been playing over and over again in his mind for the past twenty-four hours. It had been agonizing, to pull his hand from her grasp and to take off like a scared animal. To see the hurt in her eyes, like he'd wounded her.

But the worst thing of all was the fact that, more than anything else he'd ever wanted to do in his life, he wanted to dance with Byleth. He wanted to take her in his arms and gently twirl around the dance floor, staring into those endless violet eyes and feeling like maybe, he isn't so totally alone.

"Seteth?"

He is jolted from his thoughts by the very same voice that haunts them, and he quickly turns to see Byleth standing in the doorway. It's late afternoon, he realizes, and only a few stragglers remain to decorate the nearly-finished Hall.

Slowly, he moves to the doorway, glancing behind him as if he has something to hide. Does he?

"Hello, Professor. How are you?" he asks tentatively, but Byleth's expression remains unchanged.

"Well, and yourself?" She asks the question but doesn't wait for a response from him, and charges on. "Listen, Seteth. I want you to be there."

"Excuse me?" Seteth stares at her like she's gone crazy, and she shakes her head as if she's trying to start over.

"I want you to come. To the ball." Byleth takes a deep breath, as if she's summoning some reserve of courage. "I need you to help me- to help me dance."

"I- You need me?" Seteth stutters like some kind of fool, utterly confused. "There will be plenty of students wanting to dance with you, I'm sure. They are all so very fond of you."

"Seteth." Byleth says his name like she's trying to explain something to a very small child. "Will you come? I am obligated to attend, and I think it would help me. To feel less... out of place." She looks down, now, and the gesture makes her look so helpless that something in Seteth's heart clenches.

"I- I suppose I could stop by. For a few minutes." Seteth can't explain why her request seems to fill him up to the brim with happiness, and he's not sure he wants to. Part of him wants to- no, hopes that she feels the same tremors of something that he feels. The other part of him, the terrified part, hopes that she doesn't.

"Thank you." Byleth's face brightens at his words, and she bows her head slightly. "I will see you tonight, then."

"I look forward to it," Seteth says without thinking, and he's about to take it back, but Byleth is already gone, walking away across the field. "I… very much look forward to it."

He takes far more time than he should preparing his attire for the evening, Seteth knows, but he stands in front of the mirror anyway, running a comb through his hair and making sure his circlet is placed just-so.

Seteth relinquishes his normal church attire in favor of the suit he wears only for special occasions, the one with a sort of gold half-cape, made of thick black fabric accented with gold curls. He hasn't worn it in a while, and it looks strange in the mirror, a garment sewn from black and gold and memories. He'd worn it for another dance, too, long ago. A dance with a different partner.

"Father? I'm going to the ballroom now, if you'd like to- Oh, Father!" Flayn opens the door and freezes as Seteth turns to face her, her face overcome with a broad smile. "You look absolutely wonderful!"

"Thank you, Flayn," Seteth says stiffly, but the compliment makes him happier than he'd care to admit. "We should be off soon. We don't want to be late."

"Oh, you're coming! I knew you would." Flayn grins, and Seteth links his arm through hers, giving her a rare smile.

"I suppose your persuasiveness won out in the end." Seteth and Flayn walk briskly out into the night, a subtle breeze making the ribbons on Flayn's dress flap lightly. Seteth can hear the sounds of the Ball even from here- the clinking of glasses, laughter, a light hum of chatter. He isn't sure why it makes him so nervous.

"Are you alright?" Flayn looks up at him with wide eyes and he gives her a tight smile, trying to reassure her. She doesn't need to worry about his problems.

"Of course, Flayn. Now, go and have fun." Seteth waves his daughter forward and she doesn't even look back at she skips through the archway into the ballroom, looking so much older than he's ever known her to be.

Slowly, Seteth enters the room, flinching slightly at the bright lantern light that bathes the room in a warm glow. The whole room is buzzing with energy, filled to the brim with chattering students and dancing couples. Half of Seteth wants to slip into his normal strictness and start separating people, but he takes a deep breath, his eyes searching the crowd. He alternates: searching the crowd, adjusting his jacket, searching the crowd, fixing his hair. Where is she?

He's about to give up and to abandon it all when suddenly, there she is, as if she's been there all along, and his heart flutters faster than he ever thought it could before.

Byleth stands along a wall, watching the dancers whirl around the floor. She holds a clear glass of bubbling champagne in one hand, and with the other, she absent-mindedly twists a silver bracelet on her wrist as if she's waiting for someone. Waiting for him. She wears a midnight blue dress, the hem brushing the tops of her shoes, and when she shifts, he can see there's a slit that ends midway up her thigh. She looks absolutely radiant.

Cautiously, Seteth moves over to her, desperate not to appear too eager. He's only a few feet away when she looks up, her face brightening and sending his heart fluttering again.

"Seteth," Byleth says quietly, giving him the smallest of smiles. "You came."

"Yes," Seteth says, shifting uncomfortably. "You look… wonderful."

"Thank you!" Byleth's smile widens, and suddenly her attention moves to the ballroom, where the band that consists of Manuela belting her heart out and Alois attempting to play the cello has shifted into a new song. "I'm glad you let Flayn come. She seems to be having a wonderful time."

"I do not think I could have stopped her even if I wanted to," Seteth says, and Byleth laughs, her eyes still on the dancers. Seteth remembers her words: I've never been dancing. I don't think I'd even know how to start.

"Would you… would you care to dance?" Seteth holds out his hand and Byleth stares at it as if it's something from outer space. Goddess, what has he done? She's going to say no, isn't she, and he'll look like some kind of idiot, and everyone will-

"Yes," Byleth breathes, and she gently places her hand on top of his own. "I would love to."

Seteth can't hide his smile, and he guides Byleth onto the dance floor, doing his best to ignore the many pairs of eyes that suddenly turn on the two of them. It's not an exaggeration to say that Byleth is the favorite professor at the Academy.

Gingerly, he raises their hands up to eye level, just as they had the day before, and holding his breath, he places his hand on the back of Byleth's waist, determined not to blush. He's not going to blush.

Byleth slowly puts her hand on his shoulder, her fingertips brushing the crisp fabric, and as Seteth begins to gently turn the two of them around the dance floor, he blushes. Holding her like this, dancing with her… It feels better than he could have imagined.

"I'm really doing it," Byleth says, looking down in wonder at her feet, which are moving in time with his own, and, feeling bolder than he ever has before, Seteth reaches out a hand and tips her chin up to look back into her eyes.

"I find it's better not to look down," he says quickly, putting his hand back on her waist. "But you're doing brilliantly. I can't believe you tried to convince me that you couldn't dance."

"I can't!" Byleth says, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "At least, I couldn't."

Seteth can't take his eyes off of her as they gently spin to the music, the rest of the world blurring and focusing only on Byleth and those endless violet eyes. He no longer hears the sharp whispers of Claude and Hilda, no longer sees Flayn watching them excitedly, no longer notices Sylvain's jealous glower.

"I'm sorry, Byleth. For my interrogative questions and all my harshness. You didn't deserve it." Seteth says the words quietly, but Byleth's expression softens, and she squeezes his hand.

"Of course I did. You're right, Seteth. I am a mystery. But, then, so are you." Byleth raises an eyebrow, and Seteth smiles. She's right, of course. Isn't everyone a mystery in their own right?

"I suppose that you-" Seteth barely knows what he's asking when suddenly, Byleth is swept out of his arms, and he's thrown back into reality, back into the bustle of the ballroom as the band switches to a different song.

It turns out to be Sylvain who's stolen Byleth from him, and he watches helplessly as Byleth gives him an apologetic smile before turning back to the red-haired boy, who grins at her as if she's the bloody sun. Seteth knows the feeling.

He hates the stab of jealousy that pierces his heart as he watches Sylvain's hand on her waist, and he has to remind himself that he does not care and that Byleth is free to do whatever she wishes. Why should it matter to him? It's not like he has any claim on her heart whatsoever.

The ballroom suddenly feels too crowded, too stuffy, and Seteth slips outside into the cool night air, unable to take it any longer. The moonlit grounds are familiar, and he instantly feels better, his head a little clearer, and he begins to walk slowly down a corridor, his dress shoes tapping lightly against the cobblestones.

The darkness brings the memory of that night in the graveyard to the forefront of his mind, and he sighs heavily. There's no use lying to himself, not anymore. Whatever this feeling is, whatever he feels for Byleth- it's real. Seteth stops for a moment and looks up at the stars, wondering if the Goddess is tormenting him with these emotions, with this unrequited love.

That's what it is, isn't it? Seteth might possibly actually probably be in love. It hurts his head just to think about. The professor is witty and brave and beautiful, and he is… What is he? A father? She doesn't know that. A Saint? She doesn't know that either.

Seteth doesn't know what possesses him, but it's like his feet move of their own accord, and suddenly, he's ascending the stairs to the Goddess Tower, starlight illuminating his path. For a moment, he thinks he's going to see students up there, but he's alone once he reaches the top, and he stares out through the wide archways, seeing the whole monastery alight beneath him. Music drifts up from the Ball, and he wonders if Byleth's still down there, dancing.

"Seteth?"

He nearly falls off the tower at the voice, and he quickly turns around, clearing his throat. Byleth stands at the top of the stairwell, a frown on her brow. He tries not to think about how beautiful she looks in the moonlight.

"Byleth." Seteth hides his surprise (or at least he tries to) and folds his arms in a weak attempt to regain composure. "I just- needed some fresh air."

"So did I. After Sylvain's fifth marriage proposal, there was only so much more I could take." Byleth moves to stand next to him, the two of them staring at each other in the darkness.

"I have never known anyone as bold as that boy. He tried going after Flayn, once, and I had to chase him off with a lance." Seteth's face is completely serious, but Byleth puts a hand to her mouth to cover her laughter.

"Was that a joke, Seteth?" Byleth raises an eyebrow, and he bites back a smile. "I didn't know you made jokes."

"There is much you don't know about me." Seteth knows the words sound strange, but Byleth doesn't seem to mind. She steps gracefully across the stone, as if she's walking on air. He can't believe someone who can kill so ruthlessly can be so... ethereal.

"I've heard so many rumors about this place." Byleth reaches out and touches a column, her fingers gently grazing the stone.

"What is it the students say? If two people pray for the same thing, the Goddess will grant their wish?" Seteth smiles at the rumor. "I've always found there's some truth to rumors, even the most outlandish ones."

"What would you wish for?" Byleth asks. "If you were going to, that is."

"I- I've never really thought about it." Seteth pauses for a moment, thinking. What would he wish for? Peace? No, he isn't nearly selfless enough for that. A safer world, maybe, for both himself and Flayn? "I suppose no one really has only one desire that governs their heart."

"I agree." Byleth sighs, looking out at the stars. "I suppose I wouldn't know what to wish for either. A brighter future, maybe?"

"A brighter future," Seteth repeats, considering the words. He knows what his brighter future would contain. "I hope- I do not mean to overstep, Professor, but I hope that my future has you in it."

Byleth looks up at him sharply, a smile ghosting her face. Seteth wants to take the words back immediately, but he doesn't.

"So do I." Byleth steps forward, and before he can do anything, she takes his hand in her own. "I hope that I know you for a very long time, Seteth."

"You've done so much for my family. I hope that you know that I am forever indebted to you." Seteth is shaking, and he isn't quite sure why. "So… thank you."

"Does this mean you no longer hate me?" Byleth teases, her eyes shining.

"I could never hate you." Seteth quickly puts a hand over his mouth, realizing what he's just said. "That is- I do hate you. Wait, no! I never have, and I never will. What I mean is I enjoy your company. I don't overly enjoy it, I just-"

"Seteth." Byleth's tone is laughing, and she brushes a finger against the back of his hand. He hadn't even realized she'd still been holding it. "It was a joke."

"Oh." Seteth shuts his mouth. Why does he become so flustered around her? "It was… humorous."

"Thank you for the dance, by the way. I know it couldn't have been easy, guiding me and my terrible footwork across the floor." Byleth grins, and Seteth shakes his head.

"It was my pleasure. I would have danced all night, had we the time or the energy." Seteth wants to smack himself in the forehead. Where is this sappiness coming from? It certainly has been a while since he's tried to compliment someone in this way.

Byleth smiles and turns back to the stars, the little pinpricks of light reflected in her eyes, and Seteth moves beside her, turning to the night sky himself.

He doesn't know how or what or why he's feeling what he's feeling, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like how it makes him believe in something. How she makes him believe in something. Seteth watches the stars, but they don't capture his attention for long, and he looks down at Byleth.

She looks to be made of starlight herself, her hair and the dress and her little smile and the way her eyes glimmer in the moonlight. They stand that way for half an hour, her and Seteth, and if she notices him staring at her, she doesn't mention it.

Seteth can't take his eyes off of her. He never wants to look at anything else ever again.