He reached the lavatory rooms in the back and opened the first, feeling Byleth growing closer with each step, the magical string connecting them growing tighter. He knew that something here had to lead deeper down. He could feel it. He could feel Byleth.

He hesitated for a moment longer, then pressed one of the bricks in and watched the rest recede into one another, the sparkle of magic dripping onto the floor as it went. The staircase that revealed itself lacked sufficient light until he took a step onto the first and it burst to life with a lone flame close enough to light Forric’s curls on fire if he wasn’t careful.

At the bottom of the dangerously-lit staircase was --somewhat anticlimactically-- another bar. Stranger people lurked here. The kinds that Forric would most generally avoid. The kinds of Elves that would slit your throat for a few pennies or the Humans that would happily sell your children for a short cent. In the corner sat Byleth, hair free and uncovered, necklace reflecting back the flames that heated Forric’s ears.

Across from Byleth sat a figure that Forric couldn’t quite make out. Perhaps that was because he wasn’t facing him.

Although, it appeared that Forric didn’t need to make him out, because he was quite content being made out with by Byleth. It didn’t last long, but Forric still felt something shoot through to the bottom of his toes. Byleth hadn’t even tried to stop him. Had Byleth enjoyed that kiss? Was he running away to get away from Forric? Was… Did he…

Before he had another intelligible thought, he was next to Byleth in the small corner booth of the magical basement of The Shapely Angel. Byleth looked over at him with little alarm, but rather, a dimension of irritation. Forric didn’t notice Byleth’s expression, but rather focused on the face of the man that had been gnawing on Byleth’s lips only seconds ago.

His face was solid and sharp, his jawline thick and dangerous, and something about him practically cried out with a vibrant excitement. His hair was lighter than Byleth’s or Forric’s, a pure blond, and his smirk was the kind of dangerous that got Forric’s blood pumping.

He was handsome. The kind that stole your coin while you were too busy staring into his eyes, and that made him dangerous for a great number of reasons. Forric was fairly certain that he was a sort of attractive. After all, Byleth had chosen him to spend time with above all other Imperial Knights, and had, indeed, kissed him, though without the same ferocity he had kissed this man before them The barkeep had hinted at an attraction, too, and his mother often told him of his handsomeness, though he wasn’t certain that suck affection counted, as mothers often said those sorts of things, even if they didn’t mean them.

“Can I help you? We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

Forric looked up at his face and could feel his own pale. Even his voice was nearly perfect. The kind that everyone dreams about having whisper next to him just before drifting to sleep.

“I… Um…”

“This is Forric Tess. He’s one of my personal guards, and he’s a friend,” Byleth said, and hearing Byleth say his name did things to him. Things that he’d prefer to leave unnamed, at least for the moment. “A good friend.”

“And you trust him here? Byleth, the only good Imperial is the kind that bleeds at your feet and begs for mercy. This one seems… woefully intact.”

“He’s my friend. And he’s…” Byleth turned to examine Forric for a moment, taking in his current garb. “Very persistent in following me. But yes, I trust him. He’s saved my life many, many times, and I’ve done the same. And I would do the same again.”

The blond man rolled his eyes and knocked back a huge swig of his drink. His throat shimmered with energy as the liquid slid down his throat. Forric began to wonder if anything else had slid down his throat lately, but instead chose to focus on the pride he felt in the fact that Byleth said he trusted him with his life.

“He doesn’t belong here, Byleth. Kick him out by the time I get back from picking up another drink or I will.” The blond leaned back in his chair and downed the rest, then took off towards the bar with another long glare at Forric. “And I’ll be less kind.”

Now only the two of them, Byleth turned his entire stare onto Forric. He felt its force strike the inside of his heart, though said nothing. Byleth’s face was devoid of any harsh crinkles of anger, but similarly lacked the glow of joy.

Forric waited a moment for Byleth to speak, to say anything, but he instead focused on the bottom of his mug, swirling the piss-yellow liquid around as if he found it particularly fascinating.

“Sir… Who was that?” Forric asked carefully. Byleth didn’t look up from his drink.

“A friend of mine. Surely you’re aware I have friends other than you, yes?”

“Of course. But… I don’t…”

“You want to know why I let him kiss me after I kissed you only a short week ago. You want answers as to why I’m leaving the Castle, and you want to bring me back. Perhaps most of all, you want to know how I feel about you. I owe you a great many things, so I will give you these answers, but after, you must vow that you’ll leave for your own safety and speak not a word of this to Mother, Father, or any other prying ear.” Byleth turned to face Forric now, his face the definition of Princely. His stare was cold and powerful, the sort of thing he turned on servants who had brought him the wrong chocolate for the evening. The thing about Byleth’s stare, however, was that it lacked the fury of his parents.

Forric nodded, though he wasn’t certain he was willing to leave Byleth alone in a place like this --full of mysterious magic and scum-- even if he had another friend to protect him. Byleth drew in a thick breath and downed the rest of his drink, then waved his hand and refilled it again. The strain carved a wince on his handsome face.

“His name is Trell. He’s been my guide to the world for the last several months. The kissing… he has a rather strange way of saying hello, I suppose. I’ve taken it to mean nothing as it’s happened over time. I’m leaving the Castle, as I told you earlier, because I don’t wish to follow Father’s quest, nor do I wish to be bore down upon by responsibility. I will not go back. And as for how I feel about you--”

“Byleth. We need to go.” Trell had appeared behind Forric, close and sudden enough to make him jump. Generally, Forric paid more attention to these things, but he supposed listening to Byleth talk had enamored him so deeply that he hadn’t noticed Trell’s approach.

“What’s the matter?” Byleth asked, rising from his seat. Forric rose with him.

“Your friend,” he snapped, smacking a paper down onto the table. “Has already found it in his dear heart to betray you.”

On the paper was Byleth’s face etched into the center and a demand for any and all citizens of the Empire to find and return him to the Castle for an extremely hefty sum.