I can't believe Shez lost the summer voting gauntlet... Oh well. In other news I think Byleth and Shez are cute strangers-to-rivals-to-lovers, so here's a FEH-centric thing. Maybe I'll go into detail about it some day.

Word Count: 630 words.

Summer Longing

"I would not have forgotten it," Sothis boasts from the sanctity of her sunshine shade. "Your foolish little mortal tools, I mean. The memory of one such as I is impeccable to say the least, especially when compared to yours."

Byleth turns his head. "You can't remember a thing about your past."

"Crow if you must!" the goddess scoffs, dumping another bucketful of sand upon him. "Bleed yourself of those cyclical mortal woes, as fleeting as they are futile! Were I the one in charge—the charm and mind that your might so hopelessly lacks—you would be casting away at the pier as we speak, but alas! Here you languish and lament what could have been with none other than your most favorite goddess to humor your company..."

"Sounds as though you're quite fond of the arrangement," the mercenary says, his eyes gazing wistfully at the beach, at the sea, at the heroes making the most of their rare day of respite. "I want to fish."

"As if you have ever desired for anything else!" she cries, patting the fresh sand down. "Honestly! Does nothing else cross your mind when it comes to the realm of leisure? It truly is bothersome, you know... and yet, at least it is a folly I can make some sense out of. The rest of these mortals, however... To see them make merry in such stifling heat, and in such witless ways! Perhaps being shackled to you of all potential vessels was not as unfortunate as I thought..."

"They're just having fun," Byleth says.

"Winter is for having fun," Sothis declares. "And for not perspiring within seconds of stepping outside. Oh, how I do prefer it..."

"You can't fish in the winter."

"My stance remains unchanged," the goddess says. "Strengthened, even. Were I a more merciful goddess, more sympathetic for the truly pathetic, perhaps then I would better understand the meager plights of mere mortals..."

"Just bury me already."

"It would be wise of you to not rush the art of perfection," Sothis tuts while gathering sand. "I may just decide to bury your head and still that tongue of yours next. What a sight that would be! No one would ever be able to retrieve you!"

Still fixated on the revelry of the rest of the order, Byleth sighs. "I don't think anything could retrieve me even now—"

"Ashen Demooon!"

Byleth perks up in an instant while Sothis nearly loses hold of her bucket, her eyes widening in sheer horror at the fast approaching cloud of kicked up sand and the perky purple menace enshrouded within it.

"Ashen Demon, come on out and face me!" Shez calls, two fishing rods in hand, her swimsuit befitting her slender form. "The rental stand had a two-for-one deal on fishing rods. You know what that means? One—I got a super great eye for bargains, and two—today's the day you finally taste defeat!"

The goddess darts between both airheaded mercenaries. "Wait, wait!" she protests, flustered and panicked. "A moment please! Don't you even dare think of movi—!"

Dozens of pounds of meticulously packed together sand roll off of the Ashen Demon's broad shoulders, chiseled abs, and legs in a granular cascade as he stands to attention in the blink of an eye. "I'll be right back," he announces while putting on a pair of sunglasses, stepping out of the remains of his sandy tomb and breaking into a superhuman mad dash to catch up with his ever persistent foe.

Sothis lies under the mound of discarded sand for but a moment before breaking free.

"I truly loathe summer."

"It's my favorite season," Arval—also left behind—says with a sip of his tiny umbrella drink. "So long as you stay like that, that is."

This is how you acquire summer male Byleth.