Chapter Text
“Do I have the right to live for myself?”
The sky breaks open, fat drops of water splattering apart on the ground and quickly turning dirt into mud. Byleth can see the down feathers that decorate Dimitri’s cloak soaking up the moisture, each passing second adding far too much weight to already burdened shoulders.
Words stick in his throat, a thick paste made up of a conglomeration of unspoken emotions collected over the years. Even when he was suspended in slumber for five years, damned feelings somehow still managed to build up. Byleth can’t get a single word out in response to Dimitri’s question, because all of them sound wrong, taste wrong, feel wrong.
So he does the next best thing.
The fabric of his gloves are sticking to his skin, but Byleth barely notices the odd discomfort, not when Dimitri’s gazing down at his upturned palm like he’s holding salvation in his hands.
Surprisingly, Byleth doesn’t have to wait long. In fact, it takes less than ten seconds for Dimitri to respond – raindrops bounce off his vambrace when he lifts an arm, fingers uncurling from a tight fist to rest across Byleth’s own.
There’s a beat of hesitation before Byleth tightens his grip around Dimitri’s hand.
“Your hands are so warm,” Dimitri murmurs, head bowed so low that Byleth cannot see past the wet strands of his hair. “Have they always been?”
Byleth swallows. “Let’s go inside. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
At that, Dimitri lifts his head. The small smile dusted across his Highness’ lips leaves Byleth a little short of breath, and it’s Dimitri who takes the first step towards the nearest form of shelter.
“Come, Professor.” There’s a gentle tug on his hand and Byleth looks down to see that Dimitri’s fingers have somehow threaded their way between his. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, either.”
As soon as they step foot into Dimitri’s room, Byleth lights all the candles with a wave of his hand. He forces Dimitri to sit down on the edge of his bed, reaching for the clasps of his cloak as soon as he does.
“Sorry about the mess,” Dimitri says. His embarrassment is clear, from the way his brow furrows to the way his eyes dart around the room. “I, uh –”
“It’s okay.” Byleth drapes the cloak over the back of Dimitri’s desk chair and is just about to turn back to him when he notes five stalks of lilies sitting in a small vase on the shelf. He smiles. “Nice flowers. Who gave them to you?”
The red dusted across Dimitri’s cheeks are a lovely sight, one so vastly different from the pallor he’s been sporting over the last few months.
Dimitri doesn’t answer and Byleth doesn’t press. Instead, they work together to rid Dimitri of his battle armour, removing piece by piece until all of them lie in a neat pile in a corner of the room. When he’s left in nothing but his undershirt and tights, Byleth turns to leave in search for some warm food.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, don’t –”
His sentence is cut short when fingers, slightly chilled from the rain, curl around his wrist.
“Those flowers are from someone who cares a great deal about me.” Dimitri speaks quietly, but they’re in a small enough space for Byleth to pick up on every syllable. “Someone who puts a lot of faith in me and refuses to give up on me despite my many faults.”
When Byleth turns back to Dimitri, it’s to see the Prince looking right up at him, azure eye bright in the flicker of candlelight. Both stay silent, chests rising and falling as their breaths sync, Byleth’s wrist remaining in Dimitri’s loose grip.
Then, Dimitri wets his lips and runs the pad of his thumb over the thin skin inside of Byleth’s wrist. “I’m not hungry. Stay here instead? You’re just as soaked through as I am, you should at least get out of your outerwear.”
So Byleth stays.
He stays until his cloak joins Dimitri’s on the chair and his armour joins Dimitri’s in the corner. The lilies’ fragrance is barely detectable, but Byleth clings onto the scent to ground himself as he watches Dimitri slide under the covers, scooting to the side until his back is pressed up against the wall.
The invitation is silent, but Byleth takes it anyway.
His underclothes are still slightly damp, a contrast to the crisp dryness of the sheets against his exposed skin. He inches closer until Dimitri’s fingers find his by his hip, skin warm and rough with callouses. Their fingers twine.
“I don’t know if any apology will be enough.”
Byleth frowns. “I never said I needed an apology.”
When Dimitri sighs and closes his eye, Byleth is suddenly struck by how tired he looks. “I feel like I owe everyone a thousand of them. Perhaps more.”
“No.” Bringing their joined hands up to rest on the pillow between their faces, Byleth extinguishes the flames of all but one of the candles. “You don’t.” With his free hand, he traces the strap of Dimitri’s eyepatch, going from his left temple, over the bridge of his nose, and down around the curve of the leather. “Trust me.”
“I do,” Dimitri answers, soft and painfully vulnerable. Golden hair catches the light of the lone flame and Byleth thumbs at the edge of the patch. “I do.”
In the end, it’s Dimitri that does it. He’s the one that reaches back and unties the knot, letting the eyepatch slide off his face and onto the bed. Shadows and hair obscure what has just been exposed – Byleth waits until Dimitri’s head meets the pillow once more to reach up and brush away the strands of hair falling across his face.
It’s the first time he’s seen it. The skin around the socket is scarred, darker and raised. The lid stays closed and Byleth suspects that Dimitri couldn’t open it even if he wanted to. With the back of his index finger, Byleth strokes at the scars where Dimitri’s lashes brush against.
“What happened?”
Dimitri opens his mouth to reply, but when nothing comes out, he closes it.
“It’s okay,” Byleth says, now stroking across Dimitri’s brow. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I –” A deep breath. “I want to. I just don’t quite know how to.”
Byleth hums. “Does it still hurt?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt anymore. The area’s numb now.” Dimitri brings their hands closer to his chest and stares down at the peaks of Byleth’s knuckles. “I did it because I wanted to stop… seeing things. People. I just wanted some peace. No more death and no more vengeance. Even if it was just for a little while, that’s what I wanted.”
If Dimitri’s squeezing his hand with a little too much strength, Byleth doesn’t say a word.
“I saw you sometimes, you know? For five years, I thought you were dead. Someone else I cared about and couldn’t save. You never said anything though. You would just stand there and look at me for a long time with something unreadable in your eyes. Then you’d turn around and leave.”
When Byleth wriggles his fingers free, a faint crease immediately forms between Dimitri’s brows. “Hey. None of that,” Byleth whispers, smoothing it out with his thumb. His recently freed hand comes to rest along the curve of a strong jaw, slightly prickly with day-old stubble. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when –”
“If I don’t have to apologise, especially when I’ve made too many mistakes to count, then neither do you.”
“But you needed someone there. And as your professor, I had a responsibility to you.”
Dimitri studies him, blinking lazily in response when Byleth’s fingers venture into the roots of his hair. “Just my professor?”
Byleth pauses, his fingertips resting behind the shell of Dimitri’s ear.
“Maybe not,” is what he eventually says.
“No?”
The sheets rustle when Dimitri shifts closer. Byleth doesn’t flinch when he feels cold toes trail along the outside of his calf.
“Maybe a little more.”
When Dimitri smiles – as wide as he possibly could – it dawns on Byleth that it’s been more than 5 years since he’d last seen him do so. It lights up his face in a way that nothing else can, the sight bringing such a sweet ache to Byleth’s entire chest cavity that he instantly craves for more.
So he leans in and brushes a chaste kiss to the corner of Dimitri’s mouth.
A hand around the back of his neck stops him from pulling back, and then Dimitri’s lips are sliding over his, the full curve of his bottom lip just a little chapped. The Prince eats up his professor’s pleased sigh and presses closer, propping himself up on his elbow and making full use of the new angle to deepen the kiss.
Byleth lets Dimitri claim his mouth, lets him taste, heat flooding through his body at the way Dimitri traces the bow of his upper lip with the tip of his tongue before licking deep. He loses track of time like this, Dimitri’s large frame above keeping him flush against the mattress and pillows, all of his senses honed in on their mouths moving together.
When they finally part for air, Byleth stares at the faint shine on Dimitri’s parted lips – he did that! no one else! – and fights the urge to pull him back in.
“Maybe a little more,” Dimitri echoes.
Byleth, never one for sleep, wakes up just as the sun starts creeping above the horizon. He opens his eyes and a mop of golden hair meets his gaze, Dimitri’s breaths a source of warmth against his sternum in the chilly morning air.
There’s an arm wound tightly around his waist, almost as if Dimitri was afraid that he would simply up and leave in the middle of the night. Keeping his touch gentle, Byleth sweeps Dimitri’s hair back and kisses the crown of his head, over and over again until he starts to stir awake.
“You didn’t let me finish what I was saying last night.”
Dimitri snuffles against his chest, clearly fighting a tough war between falling back asleep or waking up just enough to listen to what Byleth wants to say.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed someone, but I’m here now, and from this day onwards, I will always be by your side. If you’ll let me, of course.”
When he doesn’t get a reply of any sort after several minutes, Byleth simply assumes Dimitri has fallen back asleep. He’s just about to settle back down, mind ready to daydream about the breakfast spread Dedue will no doubt have prepared in the wake of his return, when Dimitri speaks up.
“Please stay with me.”
Sometimes, with the way he carries himself and the way he dominates a battlefield, it’s hard to remember that Dimitri is just human. He’s not forged out of indestructible ore nor is his blood flowing with the power of the deities. He’s human, one with the weight of the world on his shoulders and a kingdom on his heels.
“Stay by my side, because I’ve had a taste of what it would be like and I don’t want to do this without you.”
There’s cotton in his mouth when he asks, “Do what?”
“Everything. Fight this war. Govern and rule. Exist.”
A breath catches in his throat and Byleth tugs on Dimitri’s arm until they’re lying face-to-face.
“I promise.” He kisses Dimitri once on the mouth, then once on each eyelid. Dimitri grabs a handful of Byleth’s undershirt and holds on tight. “I promise I will remain by your side, my King.”