While Trell paid for their room begrudgingly, Forric and Byleth found themselves in a private space. Byleth had already curled up on one of the two beds, though he wasn’t yet asleep, and watched with a pensive peace in his breathing as Forric pulled loose his gauntlets and chestpiece, officially leaving himself in nothing more than his battle undergarments, which were a thick blue fabric.

They clung to his form, so as to offer him minimal drag and discomfort while fighting, but in a setting like this, it meant that there was very little left to the imagination. Byleth said nothing, but he watched. And admired.

When Forric pulled off the one-piece garment, his dark skin glowed with a certain majesty in front of the flickering candlelight coming from behind him. Byleth looked at him, looked at his naked form, his face all smooshed up and soft, intimate in a way that very few were ever able to see. Byleth looked like a person. Like a sleepy twenty year-old, not the Prince of a harsh and dominant Empire.

In contrast, Forric looked like a god. His muscles were taught and sharp, his face was sharp, his lips were pouty, and the rest of his body… was breathtaking. Byleth could have stared for days. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen him naked, and if he had his way, it would be far from the last. They often would sleep side by side under the pretense of Forric maintaining a defense of Byleth, and it was on these nights that they would change into night garments in front of the other. Both would pretend not to notice, would pretend not to admire, but they would.

It was true: Byleth did have feelings for Forric. He felt safe near him. Protected. As if he could truly let his guard down for once and just be himself.

Forric didn’t notice his Prince’s attention, and bent over, showing off his rear, just to draw up the night garments that Trell had bought before they had arrived. Forric’s were too tight, of course, as Trell was a sadist, and wanted to make sure that Forric was as uncomfortable as possible, but they weren’t so tight that he couldn’t breathe. Instead, they were tight enough that Byleth had another thing to gape at when he turned back around and faced him.

Something was happening to Byleth’s insides, and he wasn’t entirely sure that now was the appropriate time for the feeling.

“Forric,” Byleth mumbled, his voice small and weak, “Would you lay with me?”

Forric’s mouth went dry, and he did nothing but nod.

The bed was soft when he leaned down --much softer than he was expecting-- and he curled up next to Byleth. There was hardly enough space on the bed for him, especially with Forric doing his best to consider Byleth’s personal space, but the comfort hardly mattered when Byleth rested his hand on Forric’s ass and pulled him closer in a haphazard tug that left his arm at an odd angle and without any sort of leverage.

Still, Forric got the message, and shifted closer. Close enough that their bodies were pinned together again, though this time, Byleth had invited it rather than told him off for it in an alleyway.

Forric could hardly make out anything with the flame flickering across the room, though Byleth’s hand was a pasty white hanging off the mattress. Forric wanted to take it, but understood that this intimacy was one of familiarity and comfort, at least for the moment, not one of romance and dashing heroes. Hands were reserved for more formal occasions, or those that involved a daring rescue. And Forric fully intended on rescuing him from some peril, even more than that which they had faced today. But now was the time for soft cuddling under the dying candlelight across the room. Now was the time to enjoy the privacy they had before Trell came back and stole everything.

It wasn’t even that Forric didn’t particularly like Trell. It was that Trell was nothing more than some brute. A rogue who wanted nothing less than the cute boy. Certainly, Forric deserved his time much more. He and Byleth had grown up together! These cuddling sessions… they were nothing new to them. What, precisely, had Trell done with him? What did they have? Perhaps Trell fellated him under the table at a dinner once. Perhaps he’d rescued him from bandits. Perhaps he’d taken him under his wing and taught him all sorts of swashbuckling and poison-making. Thoughts like this gave Forric pause, but with the small of Byleth’s back meeting his belly like this, Forric knew what the truth was.

After a few moments of silence, Forric pushed his fingers through Byleth’s hair ever so gently. Since he was a child, Forric had always been fascinated by Byleth’s luscious locks. Castle guards were never permitted anything over a certain length, so Forric’s hair was always trimmed short to make sure he was never punished for it. Byleth never had the same restrictions, and he always seemed particularly fond of keeping his hair long, if only to spite his parents. Forric was jealous.

“Forric?” Byleth whispered, shuddering a little with the stretch of a kitten. “I… wanted to apologize to you. For earlier. In the alley. When I pushed you away. I was nervous, and I thought… Well, I suppose I thought you were going to try and convince me to come back with you. I should have known better. You’re my best friend. Maybe even my only one. You know, outside of Trell. But I should have known that you would want to be here for me and help me, and I really appreciate that of you. You’re… you’re very sweet.” Forric smiled and nuzzled his face into Byleth’s shoulder.

“I’m here to protect you. That’s my duty. And I’ll do that, no matter what it means. I promise.”

“You’re very warm.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ll--”

“No, stay. It’s nice. Very nice. I could fall asleep just like this…”

“Yes, I think I could, too.”

“Ha. But I won’t, because we’d fall off. It’s a good thing Trell’s getting that second room, hmm?”

“Second room?”

“Yes. I told him he should get a second room so that I may have privacy here. Surely you heard me?”

“No, sir, I didn’t. Forgive me for overstepping my bounds in assuming--”

“Forric. Please. I’m not ‘sir’ anymore. I’m just Byleth now. Or Liyat. I do so like the name Liyat. But I don’t think it’ll stick, will it? Sad.”

“Right.”

With very little pretense, Byleth pulled away from Forric and sat up.

“Forric? Would you be so kind as to check in on Trell? I think he’s been gone too long and I’m growing concerned.”

Forric stuttered to his feet, still in nothing but his tight undergarments. Byleth didn’t make much eye contact.

“Um, yes, Byleth. I’ll take care of that right away. As soon as I put my under armor back on…”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be fine without it. You’re very handsome like this, after all.” Byleth slid back into his place on the bed, now completely on his own in it and stretching out, as if to make this even more evident to Forric who now stood, cold and disappointed, next to him. Even still, the way Byleth was laying, with his belly on the mattress and the sheets bunched up in his arms around his face, left his arse peeking out from beneath his night garments, and that little view was enough to make Forric feel just a tad less bad about the situation.

“Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“Don’t take too long. I want you to massage me to sleep,” Byleth purred, rolling his back, showing off even more of what was underneath his clothes. Forric practically gulped. All he could manage was a nod before he left the space.

Once he made it to the hallway and began to approach the stairs down to the front of the building, he became acutely aware of just how cold it was without anything other than uncomfortably tight trousers. That, and how his modesty was certainly going to be tested. Trell would also get a thrill out of seeing him so scantily clad, and he was sure that he’d take the opportunity to humiliate him in front of other patrons of the inn should the opportunity arise.

The wooden floors creaked as his chiseled body moved across them, and his pace was slow enough to avoid a majority of splinters. Still, with the candles on the walls dimming, he could very well step on something he was incapable of seeing. It was a sort of frustrating, having to be deliberate with his steps, as he knew Byleth would be long asleep by the time he returned. Perhaps he could place a kiss on his forehead before he joined Trell in their shared room.

That was another horrible thought-- sharing a room with Trell. But, if it was necessary to make Byleth comfortable, he was willing to weather any horrible situation.

The stairs were less harsh to walk down, as the light from below lit enough of them to watch where he was going. At the bottom of the steps, the reception area came into view, and there stood Trell, his hair still sharp and his face still animated, arguing with the innkeeper. He turned to see who had approached them, and, upon noticing Forric’s current state of dress, his scowl cracked into a wicked smile. The innkeeper glared at him from behind her desk.