Chapter Text
‘Click.’
‘Click.’
Byleth found that she rarely slept anymore, especially when she lay near her husband.
‘Click.’
It hurt when Dimitri left, moreso now than ever before. She could feel his gaze boring into the back of her skull, the subtle sadness that had come to reside in his eyes seeping into her own form like a plague. Then, with a sigh, he would rise and silently prepare for his day.
‘Click.’
‘Click.’
‘Clii-.’
She was now more familiar with the ticking of the grandfather clock nestled in the corner of their quarters than the sound of her husbands voice. Every 60 seconds, the hand would jam, struggle to complete another rotation around the clock face. It was much like Dimitri, she thought to herself.
‘Clll——.”
Also much like Dimitri, she had no idea how to mend the clock. Such a... small dint in its face caused a litany of issues; it had somehow managed to survive hundreds of years of use, remained functional through invasions and misguided punches and normal wear-and-tear, but a small grain of sand sent it spiraling out of control.
‘Clll-kkk.’
Byleth supposed it was cold to compare their late son to a small grain of sand, but she was fatigued and it was difficult for her brain not to formulate such juxtapositions. Especially when her own feelings on the matter were severely dwarfed by those of her husband.
“Crrrr-“
“Ccclll-“
“Stupid fucking clock,” a gravelly voice snarled, shattering the silence of the morning. There was a thunderous bang, followed once again by stillness and the ever-prominent march of time.
‘Click.’
‘Click.’
‘Click.’
Byleth felt her breath catch in her throat, listened to Dimitri’s heavy footfalls cross the room. There was a pause, then the soft closure of the door.
‘Click.’
‘Click.’
It had been ages since Dimitri had whispered his love for her before departing, something he used to do every day. It was just one of the many things Lambert had stolen from her.
‘Click.’
‘Click.’
Was it terrible to hate her own son?
Byleth thought so.
‘Click.’
‘Click.’
‘Click’