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Seadall is convinced that Pandreo’s decision to become a sage has less to do with bolstering their army’s ranks and more to do with…
Well.
It’s been quite the puzzle for him to solve.
See, it had been whispered into Seadall’s ear one night at a party (and by whispered he means howled, because Pandreo may have sipped a little too much of the communion wine) that his traditional robes had been getting on his nerves as of late.
“TOO FLOWY! M’GONNA GET YANKED BY A CORRUP--LIKE THEY’RE GONNA GRAB M’SKIRT OR COLLAR! S’NOT SAFE, RIGHT?”
After the ringing in his ears had died down, Seadall had blandly agreed Pandreo’s priest robes did cause a slight concern for his safety. Pandora had nodded solemnly, then shouted--
Well, he tried to shout, but Seadall put a hand up to stop him.
“I’m gonna talk to Double D!”
“To who? ”
“The Divine Dragon! He should have ah’good idea what to do!”
Seadall merely nodded, then reached for a glass of water from the refreshments table. He forced it into his friend’s hand.
“You might want to address your flock a bit more sober.”
Pandreo slammed the glass in one go. “Ahhhhh, good call. Lost myself in the fun. Thanks for looking out for me.”
Now, looking at Pandreo is all Seadall can seem to do.
Because for some asinine reason, mastering the sage class requires wearing an incredibly short crop top.
Now, Seadall realizes he isn’t in a position to judge someone for wearing such revealing clothing. And really, the issue Seadall has with Pandreo’s new outfit isn’t that it is revealing at all.
It goes against everything the priest had complained to him about before, and Seadall doesn’t hesitate to remark on the fact when Pandreo saunters up to him in his new attire.
“You have no protection. What was the point of all this if your outfit still heightens your risk of injury in battle? It's counterproductive!”
“Yeah, well! Uh…now I only gotta worry about being yanked by the collar?”
“What about the cape? ”
“Uh, like I said, it’s attached to the collar . Besides, we match! Eyy, eyy?”
Pandreo gestures back-and-forth from his abs to Seadall’s. He raises his brows with a proud grin.
Seadall shakes his head.
“Aww, what? Jealous I wear it better?”
“I just…I don’t understand. You’re integral to our group. You keep everyone on their feet. Why put yourself as such a disadvantage? Do you think we would just be able to carry on without you?”
Pandreo frowns, his brows now furrowed. “Woah, okay. First off, that’s sweet of you to say. Second off, though…you think I made this choice as a joke?”
“When you do this--” Seadall gestures between their abs now, “--yes, I do. You’re our main healer. Out of everyone, you should be the most concerned about maintaining your defense!”
“My defense is fine. Besides, you know I can take a hit or two if it even comes to that. Why are you so upset about this?”
“It just-!” Seadall sucks in a deep breath. “It doesn’t make sense to me, is all. But I’m not proficient in magic, so maybe it’s something I just can’t understand.”
Pandreo’s frown slips back into an easy-going smile. He won’t match Seadall’s frustration; maintaining calm must come with the territory of being a priest. It only makes Seadall more upset, and for the life of him he can’t understand why .
No, he does know why. He’s frustrated about all the things he ranted about not thirty seconds prior! But this level of vexation, for Pandreo of all people, is unusual for him.
Pandreo lays a hand on Seadall’s arm. It’s odd, the way his fingertips are smooth and yet his palm is calloused. Perhaps it’s another aspect of using magic he’s unfamiliar with.
“I didn’t know you were so worried about me, buddy,” Pandreo smiles. “But trust me, becoming a sage is a decision I didn’t make lightly. You’re right, I fix people up. But sometimes, I need to defend them too. And the sage training is helpful for that. If you really want, I can tape a shield to my stomach. Would that make you feel better?”
Seadall can’t help the puff of air that slips from his nostrils.
“Yeah, you think I’m funny. I know it.”
“What gave you that impression?”
Pandreo’s smirk grows. “Don’t worry about me. Really. You just do your dancing thing. And I gotta ask…do I look good in this or what?”
Seadall just shakes his head, to which Pandreo shrugs.
“Eh. I’ll get an answer out of you eventually.”
And Pandreo means it.
It’s part of the reason why Seadall doesn’t believe the priest’s decision to switch classes. He doesn’t doubt Pandreo’s genuine desire to protect others, as a healer and a spell wielder. However, the man just keeps asking him, over and over again, how his new “armor” looks.
“Hey Seadall!” Pandreo sends a corrupted up in flames. “Check the cape! Look how it blows in the wind!”
Seadall sends Rosado off with a twirl and glares back at Pandreo. “The cape that is less of a hazard than your robes?”
“Is it cool or not?”
“Eyes on the enemy, Pandreo.”
“Seadall! Check my good side.” Pandreo flicks his wrist as he turns away from a wyvern rider. A gush of wind ruffles the waves of his hair and puffs out his collar. With the sun high in the Solm desert sky, the light catches him just right and illuminates every dip along his abdomen.
By the time the wyvern plummets onto the sand, Seadall is able to catch the breath he suddenly lost.
He blames the heat. Dancing in third degree weather is strenuous, after all.
“That’s your good side?” he quips back.
Pandreo rolls his eyes. “Okay, how about this side?” He tilts his chin, and Seadall begrudgingly gives him a performance. The new sage then rushes ahead of the dancer, whipping out his elthunder tome and thrusting his hand out in front of him.
The goosebumps that trail up Seadall’s spine are due to the sudden buzz of electricity in the air. Nothing more. They certainly have nothing to do with Pandreo’s cape rising just high enough to reveal the tone of his back muscles. Or the curves of his waist. Or how the tight fabric of his pants draws attention to his lower backside--
No, it’s the electricity’s doing.
Yards ahead of them, the armored knight buckles under the weight of its sizzling armor and collapses. Pandreo tucks his tome to his half-exposed chest and brings his hand before his lips.
“May we all find salvation…so was that my goodside, or what?”
The whiplash completely kills the mood. “Or what.”
With every battle, Pandreo keeps asking him.
“Seadall!”
“Seadall, hey!”
“Seadall, you’re gonna think this looks way cooler with a cape. Trust me!”
“ SEADALL! ”
Seadall had been trying to ignore Pandreo’s jabbering the past few battles, more out of embarrassment for whatever feelings the dancer had begun developing than out of annoyance.
But Pandreo’s tone is different this time. It’s frantic, not playful.
Seadall turns to him just in time to take a dagger to the back.
He finally sees the thief as he falls. His knees smack against the stone of Elusia castle, and as a rush of poison seeps into his system, Seadall falls fully onto his stomach.
A raspy cough makes it out of his chest, filling his mouth with blood.
He faces the wall. There are no other combatants in sight. Then the air bubbles above him, a scorching ray of fire illuminating the wall with three burning shadows and a blackened one.
Seadall believes it’s Griss, here to add insult to his pitiful injury. But then a calloused palm is placed on his back. It has a gentle warmth from the fire just casted.
Then another hand plucks the knife from his back.
“ Ack! Ngh-- ”
“Shhhhh. You’re alright, you’re alright. The hound is still out, so shhhh.”
A stream of blood tickles the outside of Seadall’s ribs as it drips onto the floor. Then the gentle warmth from Pandreo’s palm spreads across his entire torso, and the tickle, along with the pain, goes away.
However, the sluggishness from the poison remains. Seadall attempts to push himself up, but Pandreo holds him down.
“Open up,” he whispers.
Seadall opens his mouth just in time for a vial of antivenom to avoid cracking his front teeth. Strength returns to his muscles as Pandreo plucks the vial from his lips.
Something in Pandreo’s gaze makes Seadall more unwell than he was from the poison. Worry doesn’t look good on the priest, he decides.
Just as Seadall is about to tell him so, Pandreo’s eyes snap up. He rips both of his hands from Seadall’s back and ignites whatever is behind the dancer in flames. There’s a howl, then the cracking of stone, and finally a cackle as Griss slips back into the darkness.
Pandreo heaves in a stunted breath. Sweat drips down his forehead, His jaw is clenched and eyes wild.
This look is much better. Though, Seadall wishes he could see it under better circumstances.
He reaches out and clasps Pandreo’s warm hand.
“We’re alright. You sent that hound running.”
Pandreo gives up the joke after that.
It’s funny, because Seadall wouldn’t mind some levity as the Divine Dragon lays dying in his sister’s arms. Or as they scramble to recover the emblems from Sombrom. Or as the Divine Dragon is turned into an emblem himself.
In fact, Pandreo hasn’t spoken to Seadall much as of late. But he’s not ignoring Seadall, either. The priest just sort of lingers where Seadall happens to be. He sits at the same table at Seadall during meals, wanders into the orchard as Seadall practices his plies, and comes to pray by the fire at Lookout Point while Seadall does his stretches.
It’s not awkward between them, or even tense. They share small talk, but it is small talk. Seadall doesn’t push for more, though. There is an unspoken plea in Pandreo’s idling: Please wait until I’m ready.
So, Seadall waits. They share more meals. He helps Pandreo silently pick peaches in the orchard. They sit together under the stars and feed the bonfire well into the night.
Until finally, the night after they break the first dragon shard, Pandreo glances at the fire and clears his throat.
“So, uh…”
Seadall holds in a relieved sigh. He turns to his friend and nods for him to continue.
Pandreo nods back, then tugs nervously at his collar. His eyes wander for a moment before landing on Seadall. “I’ve been doing a lot of praying…and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m weird.”
Seadall blinks. “You needed the divines to tell you that?”
“Well…praying confirmed it, anyway. I may not have been… truthful …when I told you why I wanted to become a sage.”
Seadall smirks. He saves Pandreo from hearing him say, Knew it . Though, he certainly says it in his head.
“Why did you become one, then?” he asks patiently.
“Umm, well, ah…you’re gonna think this is stupid.”
“Maybe. But if you’re worried I’ll think less of you, you’ve already disproven my worry that you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself. If anything, you’re an even more formidable foe than when I first met you.”
Pandreo chuckles at that. “Aww shucks. I’ll remember that and blush the next time I’m burning someone to a crisp. But, um--” Pandreo actually blushes then. “Oops, kinda just played my cards there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…I mean, I kinda changed classes to get your attention?”
“ My attention?” Seadall ponders his friend’s confession. “Is that why you kept asking me how your outfit looked? You…wanted to impress me?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“And you thought wearing a different outfit would do that?”
“W-Well, by impressed, I was kinda trying to--I mean, I was too much of a coward to just say…”
Pandreo pinches the bridge of his nose, his blush fading. That look of worry which so unnerved Seadall returns. He had no idea this topic was going to become so distressing for Pandreo.
He can’t have his friend so miserable in what was supposed to be a moment of peace. They’re guaranteed to have less evenings like this the closer they get to the end of the war, so in an effort to aid him, Seadall lays a hand on Pandreo’s shoulder.
The priest jolts, then melts under Seadall’s grip. “Sorry. Like I said, I’m stupid. Making such a big deal out of nothing.”
“It doesn't have to be nothing. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”
Pandreo shakes a little underneath his grip. Still, he takes a deep breath and manages to continue. “I think I told you before about my parents. They weren’t around long, and when they were, they hardly did anything worthwhile for me and my sis. Especially when it came to advice. My mom was…not someone you really wanted giving advice anyway, which makes it so great that she was a priest and so many people used to cling to every word she said. And…how she felt about what “proper love” should be in the name of the divine dragon was…”
A flash of anger passes over Pandreo’s face.
“Divines, she didn’t even pull from proper scripture half the time. She just said what she felt and picked passages to support her! And as a kid…I think hearing all that messed me up a little. It made it really hard to talk to boys I liked back then…it still does now.”
It finally hits Seadall what Pandreo is getting at, and his heart breaks for a young boy who had yet to find the support he needed.
He squeezes Pandreo’s shoulder. “That wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry you had to hear such things.”
Pandreo shrugs. “It’s alright. I make sure to act as a much better example for my flock, and I know none of that stuff she said is true.”
“Still, that doesn't change how she made you feel. How she still makes you feel.”
“Yeah…you know, every time I preach about forgiveness in church, it makes me feel so slimy. Like if I can’t forgive her, do I have the right to tell others to go out and do that same to their version of her?”
Seadall frowns. “Maybe it’s not her you have to forgive.”
“What?”
“Maybe…you have to forgive yourself. It wasn’t your fault that her words hurt you. No one is invincible.”
Pandreo blinks. He blinks again. And the third time he blinks, his eyes are brimmed with tears. “Oh…”
He wipes at his eyes, and suddenly panicked, Seadall scrambles to unwrap the scarf around his head. “H-Here. Let it out. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you so upset.”
Pandreo takes the offered scarf and…blows his nose into it. Hmm. Okay. Not its intended purpose, but the scarf can be easily washed. Seadall rubs small circles along Pandreo’s back and tries not to grimace.
“ No, s’okay…s’ah gu’cry, ” Pandreo whimpers. He takes one of the clean ends of the headscarf and fists at his eyes one last time. “Here you--oh. Uh…I-I’ll wash it for you. My bad.”
“It’s alright.”
“No, it was probably your master’s. I’m so sorry.”
“It was, but think nothing of it--”
“Oh, Divines . I’m such an idiot--! ”
“ Pandreo . It gets soaked in sweat every day. It’s fine . I promise…do you feel better now?”
Pandreo bites his lip. Seadall braces for another wave of tears, but somehow the priest is able to hold them back. “I do. A lot, actually. Wow…you’re incredibly insightful, you know that? Probably comes with being a fortune teller.”
Seadall hums. “Perhaps.”
“So, then you…you see what I was trying to get at, right? About having a hard time talking to guys I like…?”
“Yes.”
“S-So…when I was trying to get you to notice me…?”
“Yes?”
Pandreo stares expectantly at him. Seadall stares back, confused.
He keeps staring at Seadall. Seadall keeps staring back.
Something isn’t adding up here.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh!
“Me!” Seadall exclaims suddenly. “You like… me?! ”
Pandreo smiles sheepishly. “Yeah…like a lot. A lot a lot. And I danced around the issue like a teenager. No one ever taught me how to ask someone out! I-I was trying to figure it out on my own and completely blew it, huh?”
Seadall would answer him, but his brain is frozen trying to process two three truths at once: Pandreo likes him, Seadall probably always knew, and he’s always felt the same way.
Also, Pandreo is wrong. He isn’t the stupid one; it’s Seadall for failing to see the obvious.
He quickly takes Pandreo’s hand, the one not currently holding his snotty scarf. “No, you didn’t. Not in the slightest. I’m just a little slow on the draw.”
Pandreo’s smile shines. “Heh…that’s good to hear. So, do you feel the same, or…is this considered platonic hand-holding?”
Seadall kisses the back of his hand, smirking at the blush he’s able to return to Pandreo’s face. “Strictly platonic. I don’t know what gave you any other impression.”
The Divine Dragon has given them a final notice: in one hour’s time, the Somniel will ascend into Sombron’s dimension.
Seadall ties his freshly-washed scarf around his head. The scent of lavender tickles his nose. Pandreo will have to wash his garments more often just so the dancer can benefit from his taste in sweet-smelling soap.
It takes little to no time at all for Seadall to finish his preparation for battle. All he requires is some light stretching and a spare elixir in his back pocket. He has plenty of time to spare searching for Pandreo, but saves plenty of it when he makes the correct assumption he’ll find the sage at Lookout Point.
Pandreo isn’t practicing his spells or polishing Byleth’s ring, but standing out at the edge of the clift. Seadall wanders right up to him and sees his partner is lost in prayer. Fondness takes hold of him, a warmth spreading through his chest not unlike Pandreo’s healing magic.
With his brows knit in concentration, and his lips parting with silent offerings to the gods above and among them…
Seadall waits for Pandreo to finish his prayer, then frames his face delicately with his hands. Pandreo’s eyes snap open, then crinkle with a grin.
Seadall’s smile widens. “This is your good side.”
They share a kiss as the Somniel begins its ascension.