Chapter Text
The bells of Fhirdiad rang out in a magnificent, synchronized chorus, their deep tones echoing across the snowy peaks of Fódlan. The dark clouds of rebellion had finally parted, making way for a brilliant dawn. On the day of Dimitri’s ascension to the throne, the grand cathedral was packed to the doors with noble lords, loyal soldiers, cheering citizens, and the entire Blue Lions house standing proudly in the front rows to witness their friends' historic union.
Dimitri stood before the grand altar, dressed in magnificent royal blue and white robes trimmed with heavy silver. Archbishop Rhea stepped forward, holding the heavy, glittering crown of Faerghus. With absolute sovereign grace, she placed it upon his brow. Dimitri was officially coronated as the King of Faerghus.
Yet, the ceremony was only half complete. At the very same time, the cathedral doors opened to reveal Byleth, walking down the aisle in a breathtaking, silver-trimmed pristine white gown that perfectly matched her new mint green hair. She took her place beside him, as the both coronation and wedding took place.
When the time came for the exchange of vows, Dimitri turned to his new bride. His hands, usually so tight and tense, were incredibly gentle as he reached into his pocket. He took out a magnificent silver ring adorned with a brilliant emerald gem—a priceless heirloom that originally belonged to his birth mother.
"With this ring, I bind my soul to yours," Dimitri whispered, his blue eyes filled with an unyielding devotion as he slid it onto Byleth’s ring finger. "Through every shadow and every war, I am yours."
Byleth looked down at the emerald shimmering on her hand, a profound warmth expanding in her chest. In return, she took out the Goddess Ring—a beautifully crafted silver band adorned with a small, deep blue sapphire, which had been provided by Aunt Rhea specifically for this wedding ring exchange. Her emerald-green eyes locked onto his as she slid the ring onto his finger.
"And I am yours," Byleth answered, her voice a grounding anchor. "To the very end of this world."
With their vows spoken and the historic rings securely placed, Dimitri gently leaned in, wrapping his arms around her waist as Byleth pulled him close. They shared a deep, passionate kiss at the altar, sealing their union as husband and wife.
The moment their lips met, the heavy, sacred silence of the grand cathedral completely shattered. A thunderous roar of cheers, applause, and triumphant cries erupted from the spectators, with the entire Blue Lions house shouting in pure joy and the citizens throwing flower petals into the air to celebrate their new King and Queen.
After the exhausting hours of the grand ceremony and the royal banquet, the heavy oak doors of the royal bedchamber finally closed, shutting out the rest of Fódlan. The room was illuminated only by the soft, warm amber glow of a crackling hearth, casting long, flickering shadows across the grand space and enveloping them in a sacred, tranquil quiet. The heavy silk drapes isolated them completely, leaving only the two of them in a domain where crowns and kingdoms no longer mattered.
Away from the eyes of their subjects, Dimitri and Byleth began to consummate their marriage. Every movement was slow, reverent, and heavy with the immense weight of years of unspoken longing. The sight of his new bride entirely took Dimitri's breath away. Her vibrant mint green hair, beautifully illuminated by the dying flames, spilled across the silken pillows like moss on stone, and her newly awakened emerald-green eyes shone with a profound, otherworldly depth. Dimitri’s large, scarred hands guided her with a fierce but trembling gentleness, as if he were holding something far too precious for this world.
As the last remnants of their royal garments fell away, Dimitri leaned down, pressing his lips against her soft skin. But as he kissed the valley between Byleth’s breasts, his movements suddenly faltered. He paused, his brow furrowing slightly in the quiet, sacred room.
Right there, beneath his lips as they rested against the valley of her chest, there was only an organic, tranquil stillness. No rhythmic thudding. No steady, living beat. Just a calm, radiant warmth pulsating from her skin. He could not feel any heartbeat at all.
Dimitri’s breath caught, his eyes widening in a sudden, sharp panic—not out of horror or disgust, but out of an overwhelming fear for her well-being. "Byleth...?" he breathed.
The sudden pause shattered Byleth's serene composure. She shrank back slightly, a sudden, agonizing wave of tears brimming in her emerald-green eyes. The heavy, consuming shame and extreme guilt she had carried her entire life finally broke through the surface.
"I am sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling violently as she looked up at him, tears spilling over her flushed cheeks. "I... I have never had one. Not from the moment I was born. I am an abnormality, Dimitri. I wanted to tell you before we exchanged our vows, but I was so afraid... so regretful that I was giving you a corpse for a bride."
She braced her entire body for the inevitable pull-away, terrified that the newly crowned King of Faerghus would look at her with utter revulsion, especially now that her awakened appearance marked her so clearly as something beyond human.
Instead, Dimitri’s expression softened into a look of heartfelt, aching devotion. He did not pull away. With a low, emotional murmur, he leaned down and gathered her tightly into his strong arms, shifting his weight so that her cheek was pressed directly over the left side of his chest.
Beneath her skin, she immediately felt it—a fierce, roaring, steady rhythm. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was loud, chaotic, and entirely alive against her face.
"Look at me, Byleth," Dimitri commanded softly, taking her small hand and pressing it flat against his chest, right over the hammering pulse. "Do you feel that? For years, I thought this heart only existed to carry the hatred of Fódlan's dead. I thought it was a curse. But holding you like this, I finally understand why it beats so fiercely."
He leaned down, kissing the trailing tears from her cheeks, his grip locking her securely to him as their bodies aligned once more.
"You are no monster to me. You are my wife, my queen, and my savior," Dimitri murmured against her lips, his breath warm and steady. "If your chest is silent, then let it be. From this night forward, my heart beats for both of us. My heartbeat is your heartbeat. My life is your life. Do you understand, my beloved?"
The words instantly melted away a lifetime of bitter isolation. Byleth wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him down to her as a breathless sob of pure, radiant joy escaped her lips.
"Thank you, Dimitri," she whispered, her voice grounding itself completely in the fierce, living rhythm of his chest. "Then... you are my heart. Always."
Touched by his sincere reassurance, the final remnants of Byleth's shame melted away entirely. She pulled him down, and they shared a passionate, deeply loving kiss, their lips meeting with a tender intensity that spoke of years of conveyed devotion.
As they surrendered completely to each other, making love in the quiet, fire lit sanctuary of the room, the silence inside Byleth’s chest was entirely filled by him. Every deep breath, every trembling touch, and every fierce surge of passion was anchored to the steady, unyielding war drum of Dimitri’s pulse. In the pitch black of the night, his heartbeat became the unique firefly rhythm that guided them both out of the dark, binding their souls together in a physical and spiritual union that no war, no tragedy, and no ancient god could ever tear apart.
The heavy silken sheets clung to them in the cooling air of the midnight hour. Dimitri’s breathing, which had been peaceful and deep following their passionate union, suddenly grew shallow and fractured. A cold sweat broke out across his broad chest, and his eyelids twitched violently as his mind plummeted back into the horrific, ash-choked plains of Duscur.
In the pitch black of his nightmare, the severed, burning visages of his father, his stepmother, and his fallen friends clawed their way out of the scorched earth. Foremost among them was Glenn, his face mangled and bloody, alongside the rest of the slaughtered knights. Their hollow eyes stared down at his trembling spirit, their spectral voices a discordant, overlapping shriek of agony and accusation: “Why do you get to be happy, Dimitri? Why do you get to live? Slay them... avenge us...”
Dimitri groaned in his sleep, his fingers clawing desperately at the mattress as the phantoms threatened to swallow his mind whole.
"ENOUGH!"
The sharp, authoritative shout shattered the horrific illusion. It did not echo from the physical world, but reverberated with absolute divine power directly within the space of Dimitri's subconscious mind.
Standing proudly before the retreating ghosts was a small, green-haired girl floating in mid-air, her arms crossed and her ancient eyes flashing with fierce irritation.
"He is under my protection now," Sothis commanded, waving her hand with absolute finality as she glared down at the spirits. "Begone from his rest! Your bitterness has no power here, you tiresome pests!"
With a final, desperate hiss, the tormented souls of the dead were forcefully driven back into the shadows, entirely vanished from his mind.
“Honestly, what a noisy bunch,” Sothis muttered, floating down until her bare feet hovered just above the fading mist. She dusted off her hands with an air of immense satisfaction. Then, her ancient, luminous green eyes softened beautifully as she turned to face Dimitri’s trembling spirit.
“You may rest easy now, King of Faerghus,” she said, her voice dropping its sharp edge and shifting into a tone of surprisingly gentle, maternal warmth. “Those bitter echoes have no hold over you while you are bound to my chosen vessel. I will not allow them to tarnish the peace you have fought so hard to achieve. Do not let the past convince you that you are unworthy of this joy. Look how fiercely she protects you even now. Wake up to her warmth, Dimitri. Your burden is heavy, but you no longer have to carry it alone. We are both watching over you.”
With those final, reassuring words, Sothis waved her hand, enveloping his mind in a warm, protective emerald glow that acted as an unbreakable shield against any further nightmares.
Dimitri gasped softly, his consciousness floating upward from the dark abyss and drifting into a state of pure, untethered comfort. As his eyes fluttered open in the dim light of the real world, the terrifying images of Duscur vanished completely, replaced by an overwhelming sense of physical warmth and security.
Byleth was holding him. She lay back against the mattress, her head resting deeply against the plush comfort of the silken pillow, her eyes softly closed in the quiet sanctuary of the dark bedroom. Dimitri’s large frame was pulled entirely on top of her own, his head cradled gently against the warm, tranquil softness of her ample bosom while her body effortlessly supported his weight. Her long, elegant fingers were threading through his damp blonde hair, caressing his scalp with a rhythmic, mesmerizing tenderness that soothed his racing thoughts.
In the stillness of the room, Byleth was singing.
Her voice was soft, clear, and hauntingly beautiful, carrying the gentle, ancient cadence of the Song of the Nabateans—the very lullaby her aunt Rhea had sung to her in the quiet hollows of the monastery throughout her childhood. Though Byleth lacked a heartbeat to anchor the melody, her breathing was steady, and the vibrant green strands of her hair brushed softly against his cheek like silk.
Dimitri let out a long, shuddering sigh of pure, unadulterated relief. He nuzzled deeper into her gentle embrace, his large arms instinctively wrapping around her waist to lock her close to him. The terrifying screams of the dead were completely drowned out by the protective rhythm of his bride's song. In her arms, the King of Faerghus finally found an unshakeable, peaceful sanctuary, entirely enveloped in the absolute love of his wife.