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Byleth never realized he has no idea how to be an archbishop until he actually becomes the archbishop.

He taps his fingers on the desk. The tapping turns into frantic knocking with his knuckles. He's never been a religious man; he's never been much of anything, really. Even when he was a professor, he never fully comprehended the teachings of the Church of Seiros. It never concerned him.

How does he keep finding himself being thrust into positions he never asked for?

Sure, Byleth will admit, becoming a professor is something he will never regret. All the experiences he endured over the last five years are something he would never take back. Even the bloodshed and traumatic memories engraved in his brain can be forgiven, for what has been gained in its stead far outweighs the negative.

He closes his eyes and sighs. His mind wanders to Dimitri. He's been thinking about Dimitri a lot lately. Whenever he imagines the king's face, a soothing calmness washes over him, and everything plaguing him fades away easily.

"Byleth."

That voice isn't Dimitri's. Byleth keeps his eyes closed, pretending it belongs to the king anyway. He hasn't heard Dimitri's voice in months, and oh, how he misses it, how he longs for it. If he didn't have to become the archbishop, he could see Dimitri whenever he desired.

Would Dimitri find a wife? Has he found a wife already? Byleth sincerely doubts that. Surely, he would have heard news by now of a new queen of Faerghus.

The thought makes him feel a sort of unfamiliar sickness in his stomach. He might've eaten something funny for breakfast. What had Flayn concocted in the kitchen? He thinks it was eggs. Some type of scrambled eggs that didn't agree with him.

He fondly remembers one morning where he and Dimitri were on breakfast duty together. Dimitri had severely undercooked the eggs, whereas Byleth had not even cracked the shell open and had just thrown them onto the pan.

"Byleth Eisner," Seteth says sternly.

Byleth opens one eye and peeks up at Seteth, who is in his usual demeanor: annoyed, arms-crossed, eyebrows narrowed. Byleth knows Seteth's disapproving voice better than anyone, probably. He was the man's least favorite person for the first couple months of his time as a professor.

"Are you listening, now?" Seteth asks.

"I'm listening," Byleth mumbles.

Seteth ignores the childish, grumpy tone coming out of the man in front of him. "I'm sure you've been very busy as of late, but you never finished dusting off the saint statues in the cathedral."

You interrupted my daydreaming for that? "Oh. I'll do that right away."

Seteth gives him a brief look of concern before nodding and turning to leave the room. If even Seteth is giving him looks of pity, it must be painfully obvious how...painfully lost Byleth has been, since returning to the monastery.

He makes his way to the cathedral, a feathery duster clutched in his hand. Groups of monks and nuns pass him by. All unfamiliar, unrecognizable faces. Catherine and Shamir are huddled together on a bench outside, whispering something to each other. Catherine smiles and offers a small wave to Byleth when they notice him. That's something familiar, at least.

The dining hall doesn't bustle with excitement as it once used to. Maybe that's just in Byleth's imagination. It certainly is loud, voices talking over each other, mixed with laughter. Byleth scans the room. He doesn't know anyone.

His eyes wander to the table where he and Dimitri often shared meals together. Dedue sat with them most of the time as well. Once a stray cat had jumped on the table and swiped a piece of meat off Dimitri's plate; Dedue, in a heroic rush, had chased down the cat to retrieve his king's lost honor. When he finally caught the cat in his arms, however, Dedue had been so smitten with the creature that he simply let the cat finish its meager meal.

Byleth turns to the entrance hall in a hurry. Annette and Mercedes often stood around here, gossiping together. Sylvain flirted with girls one too many times at that table. Ingrid loved to look out over the bridge he walks on now, wind blowing through her hair, watching the pegasus knights in the sky.

The gates to the cathedral open. Byleth is nearly sprinting now. Ashe spent a good portion of his time praying at these pews. Felix would stand behind the tall pillars and carefully watch Dimitri from a distance.

People he doesn't recognize are in deep prayer as he speeds past them. They greet him, respect in their voices that he doesn't feel he warrants. Do they really respect him?

Or do they respect the goddess residing inside of him?

Byleth stares up at the Saint Cethleann statue before him. Halfheartedly, he dusts at her feet. It isn't until five minutes later that Byleth isn't entirely sure why he's been sent here to dust the statues in the first place. They are entirely spick and span, even sparkling from how clean they are.

The huge pile of rubble is still littering the ground. The ceiling, at least, has been repaired. How often had Byleth stood in front of that rubble pile with Dimitri? Every day, Byleth answers his own rhetorical question.

Blank faces stand there instead now. He wonders what these people are praying for. Maybe praying for all this damn rubble to be removed.

Byleth decides he's done enough and patters off to the fishing pond. He hopes Saint Cichol won't notice his half-assed job, or the single speck of dust left on Saint Cethleann's cheek.

Alois spends most of his time here, and that familiarity alone is enough to keep Byleth sane. When Byleth quietly sits down on the dock next to the older man, he screams with so much dramatic flare that it makes even Byleth jump.

"Oh, my boy!" Alois pats a rough hand against Byleth's back. "You nearly scared the life out of me! Give a guy a warning next time!"

"I'm a ghost," Byleth says. "I don't give warnings. I'm here to haunt you."

"That's not even remotely funny. Don't joke about things like that."

"Boo."

Alois scoots a good inch away from Byleth. They both laugh, although Byleth's is more forced than usual. There's a sinking feeling in his gut, something similar to guilt for not being able to feel joy like he once used to, even around someone so close and cared for.

"How's the archbishop stuff going, son?" Alois casts his line, Byleth following suit. "Have you been feeling more divine? More holy?"

Byleth is silent for a long moment. Alois wonders internally if it was insensitive of him to ask about something so personal. Is it personal, though? Byleth becoming the next archbishop is common knowledge to everyone by now. He's about to apologize and change the subject before Byleth finally opens his mouth.

"Did you always want to be a knight?" he asks.

Alois is confused by the question, but nods nonetheless. "Well, I suppose I have. I met Jeralt when I was just a young sprout, and since then, it's been my life. I couldn't imagine doing anything else!"

That's about the answer Byleth expected to hear. "You could've been a comedian," Byleth suggests. "Gone around the continent telling your jokes. You'd go down in history."

"Like a court jester?!" Alois barks out a laugh. "Where is this coming from, my boy? I'm flattered, certainly, but you've never once laughed at any of my jokes. Not even a pity laugh!"

"Dimitri loved your jokes," Byleth says. "You could be his court jester. I'll be the court jester's adopted son. Can you teach me how to juggle?"

Oh, Alois thinks. That's what this is about.

"I'm afraid I couldn't juggle to save my life," Alois admits. He turns to look at Byleth, whose green eyes are scanning the water for something that doesn't seem to be there.

"Oh," Byleth murmurs. "We don't have to juggle. We can just dance around—"

"I've always believed that anyone can be anything they want," Alois interrupts. "And if you don't want to do something, you shouldn't have to do it! A person should live as freely as they'd like."

Byleth thinks on that for a moment. "Royalty doesn't have that luxury," he says simply. "Gods and goddesses do not have that luxury."

The melancholy in the air is starting to freak Alois out. He hasn't seen Byleth in this big of a rut since Jeralt's passing. "If you put it that way, I suppose you're right." Alois pauses to laugh. "What if the goddess had decided to live a normal life as a merchant?"

"Then she would not be a part of me right now," Byleth says bitterly.

Ouch. Good one, Alois. Learn when to crack a joke! The air is even more tense than it was before. Alois thinks for a second to just remain quiet, but he certainly is not one for awkward silences.

"Listen," Alois starts, putting a caring hand on Byleth's shoulder, "I can't pretend to understand what you're going through. You've been through more than the lives of ten average men. But you can talk to me about anything! You can tell me anything. I want to know what's eating away at you."

Byleth closes his eyes. Alois really has taken to this role of filling in Jeralt's footsteps. Never, ever could he replace Byleth's true father, but in that same vein—Alois does make a really good dad.

"I want to go to Faerghus," Byleth finally states. "To Fhirdiad. I want to see..." He bites his tongue. "I just need to get away from here. I think I'm stressed."

"You think?" Alois lets out a hearty laugh. "Hm... We might be able to get away with a surprise visit to the Kingdom. You are helping to unify the land, after all. A council with the king would be nothing out of the ordinary!"

Byleth perks up like a cat smelling wet food. Alois notices immediately and smiles fondly at him. "You'll go with me?" he asks.

"Well, I can't very well let you leave on your own, can I?" Alois puffs out a sigh. "I have a hunch that either way, you'd have been gone before dawn tomorrow."

"Not that soon," Byleth says, as if he's pondered it for a while (which, yes, he has). "Probably in a week is when I would've left."

Alois shouldn't be surprised by such a blunt, honest statement, but he is. He ruffles Byleth's hair affectionately and elbows him in the gut.

"We talked too much," Byleth says. "We scared all the fish away."

"I guess I was being a...big mouthed bass!"

Alois slaps his knee and laughs. Byleth frowns in a way that a son embarrassed by his father would.

They decided a week from their talk, they would depart for Fhirdiad. As Alois had said, Byleth was already planning on leaving by that time, anyway. That's plenty of preparation time considering during the war, they'd have to get ready to march in only a few hours' time.

Byleth has restless sleep the entire week. Nightmares plague him, leaving him to wake up in a horrible cold sweat, clutching his blankets in anguish. Dreams of Rhea becoming a horrible beast and tearing him apart, limb from limb, for daring to question his position as archbishop. Every night, without fail, that same damn dream, as if she already knows what he's planning on doing and is going to punish him for it.

The sun hasn't even risen on the seventh day when Byleth stirs awake. He clutches himself to make sure he isn't split in half. Everything appears to be normal.

He'd already packed before he fell asleep hours before. He throws on his boots and a light coat before stepping outside of his room and into the cold air. It's the middle of the eleventh moon, and the crisp, chilly temperament is truly starting to settle in. The cold reminds him of Faerghus, which in turn reminds him of—

He makes his way to Alois's quarters, skulking around like a thief in the night, although he knows no one would be stupid enough to wake up at this ungodly hour. He raps his knuckles on the door once, hoping for an immediate reply, but no voice comes to greet him. He drops his gear to the floor and bangs on the door with his palms full force.

"Whazzat? Who-- Huh-- WHO'S THERE?"

Byleth is greeted by a disheveled, half-asleep Alois, who is unfortunately very shirtless and very hairy. Shielding his eyes, Byleth waits patiently outside the door as his new father figure dresses himself and packs his things for their journey.

Alois emerges from his room, still barely awake, but raring to go. The two make their way to the stables to definitely borrow, not steal, two horses for the trip.

"Why are we leaving so early anyway, my boy?" Alois asks.

Byleth answers as if it's the most obvious question on earth. "So that no one sees us."

Oh, boy. "Surely you told Seteth we'll be gone for a few months, yes?"

"Yes... Er..."

"Er?"

"Not...exactly..."

"Byleth..."

"I left a note on his desk that says 'be back in a bit' with my name and yours scribbled on it."

Alois will have a lot of explaining to do whenever they return back to the monastery, if Seteth doesn't send an angry horde of soldiers to come find them. If anything, it'd look as if Alois kidnapped him.

Well, it's too late to turn back now, and that happy gleam in Byleth's eyes will make potential imprisonment worth it. He can't stand to see the boy so torn up about his own life.

The sun eventually begins to rise as they make their way towards Fhirdiad. They discover very soon that Alois is miserable with directions, so the map is quickly handed off to Byleth.

They surmise that with the minimal amount of rest needed, they'll arrive in three weeks' time. When said aloud, it doesn't sound long at all to Byleth, yet his chest aches, unable to wait that long to see him again.

I wonder if he misses me, too.

The weather only continues to grow unbearably cold as they march on. Alois seems more accustomed to it than Byleth; the younger man is constantly hugging his horse's neck for any semblance of warmth.

Even during his time in Faerghus with Dimitri, he could not get used to the cold. He doesn't dislike it, perse, but his body is not very tolerant of it. The king was always beside him, offering his cape to keep him warm. He wishes he had that same cape wrapped around his shoulders right now.

The weeks pass by surprisingly quickly, yet still too slow for Byleth. They'll be in Fhirdiad in three days. In three short days, Byleth will finally see Dimitri again. His fingertips feel numb with either excitement or frostbite. Either way, he can't stop bouncing his leg up and down, much to the chagrin of his horse, who keeps bursting in and out of a canter, thinking it's being commanded to run.

"Let's stop at an inn in the next town," Alois suggests.

Byleth clutches the map in his arms defensively. His leg jitters again, and his horse takes off so fast that Byleth is catapulted onto the snowy ground. In his defense, Alois does try to hold in his laughter, but when Byleth sits up with snow piled on top of his head, he roars so loud it bounces off the trees around them.

Byleth would rather travel the next three days nonstop with no rest, but he supposes he must give in and let his body rest. "Fine!" he says finally, then bolts up to chase after his fleeing horses.

The little merchant town they arrive at is eerily quiet at this time of night. Not eerie to Byleth, at least, but Alois's head is darting around in every which direction, making sure no ghosts are creeping up on him.

"Boo!" Byleth taunts.

Maybe the scream that erupts from Alois isn't the warmest welcome to an unknown town they're visiting. Thankfully, when they set their horses in a stable and enter the inn, no one questions the bloodcurling scream that clearly came from the man that's pale from fear and is talking way too loud.

The beds are warm and comfortable, a far cry from the shoddy sleeping bags they'd been using to camp on the ground. Taking off their armor feels nothing short of heavenly. Byleth sinks into the bed easily, melting into it like hot cheese.

His mind wanders to Dimitri. It always wanders to Dimitri before bed, whether just in fond memory or in a private, explicit way that Byleth keeps to himself. He'll see him again in three days. His leg is doing that bouncing thing again under the blankets.

"When you met your wife..." It's still hard for Byleth to refer to her as his mother; he doesn't think he'll ever be comfortable enough to call Alois 'father', despite how much he cares for him. "When did you know you were in love?"

What a rare, personal question from Byleth. Alois is more than slightly flabbergasted, but he's also happy that Byleth wants to know more about him.

"As soon as I laid eyes on her." Alois sighs wistfully. "I thought love at first sight to be a mere fairytale. How wrong I was! I chased her down like a complete idiot amongst a crowd of people just to talk to her. She must have thought I was crazy."

"Did she think you were crazy?" Byleth asks.

The question earns a laugh from Alois. "No, she must have been less sane than even me. I grabbed her arm like a complete ruffian, and when she turned around, instead of screaming for help, she said to me, 'Are you going to arrest me, sir knight?' in the calmest voice."

Now Byleth is laughing from disbelief. "What? Why would she say that?"

The memory seems to have sparked something fond inside of Alois. He smiles towards Byleth with all of the endearment in the universe. "She had just bought apples from a merchant," he explains. "But she grabbed one too many and ended up not paying for one of the apples. She thought I had noticed and was coming to take her away!"

"So? What did you tell her?"

Alois is already laughing before he can get the sentence out. "I said— I told her, after I saw her bag of apples—snrrkkk—I said, 'No, ma'am, you are the apple of my eye!'"

"You really haven't changed, huh," Byleth says, exasperated.

"She actually laughed at my joke." Alois is grinning ear to ear. "It was such a beautiful laugh. She still has the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard. I miss her...already..."

Byleth glances over at Alois. His eyes have drifted shut, and he appears to already be falling fast asleep. They both are exhausted, after all, and Byleth should surely follow suit and get himself some shuteye as well.

Three more days.

Byleth rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. It's been nearly half a year since he last saw Dimitri, since the war ended. They've had minor contact through letters, but those have been strictly business letters. He can't tell the king how he desperately wishes he could see him in a letter that his colleagues would also be reading.

He knows that once he finally becomes a more experienced archbishop, he'll have a chance to visit Dimitri often. Once things settle down, they could work together to truly start unifying Fódlan to bring in an era of peace they both long for.

Yet, is that enough? Is visiting the king every few months for talks of peace treaties enough for Byleth? Is it so selfish of him to crave more, to be able to see the king every day, to live in the castle with him, wake up to his face, and to hold him—

Byleth's unbeating heart clamors. He knows better than to let feeble emotions such as these plague his thoughts; ironic, however, that he's let himself become so consumed by these same emotions, that he's dragged Alois along with him to Fhirdiad.

Maybe this is all one big mistake. How horrible it would be, to walk through those castle doors, only to find Dimitri with a huge frown on his face at Byleth's arrival. Would he be angry at such an abrupt visit, disturbing him from his important duties as king? Surely he must be drowning in work.

Byleth slaps his cheeks. It is not like him to worry about things like this. He's starting to sound like Sylvain, fretting over his newest fling. Byleth knows Dimitri better than just about anyone, and he knows how much importance he holds in the man's heart, even if it's not the same kind of importance he wishes it were.

Only three more days until they arrive at the castle.

When morning comes, Byleth wakes up from the same dream he's had countless nights in a row. Every morning, he hugs himself, making sure he's fully intact. He's used to not getting much sleep by now. He hardly even feels tired anymore.

He shakes Alois awake, and they prepare to head out after stopping by the inn's dining hall for breakfast. It isn't until they are outside, in the bright sunlight, villagers bustling about so early in the morning, that Byleth recognizes this town.

It was a while ago, during the war, but he remembers their worn out group stopping in this town to relax and gather supplies. They pass by the weapon store, and...yes, it's the same clerk that was there before. Byleth recognizes the giant mole on the man's chin. Ashe had bargained with him so meticulously that he managed to get each and every weapon for half the price it would normally cost.

Dimitri and Felix had been sparring with training lances at the pond he walks past now. Dimitri's brute strength had gotten the best of Felix and, on complete accident, Dimitri's hard thwack with the lance sent Felix backwards into the pond. Felix had been so angry that he jumped out of the pond screaming, chasing after Dimitri like a drowned rat with his sword drawn. They had to leave shortly after when the town's guards then started running after Felix, who they deemed to be a 'lunatic serial killer'.

How are Felix and Ashe doing, he wonders? While admittedly, he misses Dimitri most of all, he wants to see all of his Blue Lions again. He's certain, at least, that Dedue will be ever loyally by the king's side once he arrives at the castle. Would it be irresponsible for Dimitri to use his royal inclination to force all of the lions to meet up together at his castle? Yes, Byleth answers himself.

"Ready to head out, son?"

Alois's voice shakes Byleth out of his trance. They saddle up their horses and Byleth pulls the map out of his bag, ready to navigate them to the Kingdom capital. The same phrase scratches like a record player over and over in his mind: three more days, three more days, three more days.

Dimitri slumps over his work desk, papers scattering to the floor from the action. His mind threatens to drift off to sleep with every passing second, and it's becoming increasingly more difficult to focus on anything when reading with one eye puts such a large strain on his head.

Dedue will occasionally help him by reading things out loud. Byleth used to do the same thing for him during the war. They'd sit together in Dimitri's room, going over strategies together, or sifting through all the paperwork received after his coronation.

Six months later, and the paperwork still seems to never end. He tries to complete everything as soon as he receives it, but sometimes, he's so exhausted, that everything slowly begins to build up as time goes on.

As of now, everything has built up so much that Dimitri feels like his brain is going to explode. Dedue kindly sensed Dimitri's anxiety and fetched him a cup of his favorite chamomile tea. The clanking sound of the teacup being set down on the desk causes Dimitri to lift his head up. A tired smile paints his face.

"Oh, thank you, Dedue," Dimitri says softly. He holds the teacup in his hands, basking in its warmth.

Dedue takes a sip from the cup he's also made for himself. "Of course, Your Hi... Dimitri. Do you require assistance with anything?"

"Mm..." The hesitance makes it obvious Dimitri needs guidance, but he's too modest to concern Dedue with his troubles. "I should be alright for now, Dedue. It's awfully late, isn't it? You should get some rest."

"I could say the same for you."

Dimitri frowns up at Dedue, who returns the same frown. "I'll sleep soon! I promise." They both know it's an empty promise, however. "Please go rest, Dedue. Don't fret over me."

Dedue opens his mouth to protest more, but simply sighs instead. He nods at Dimitri before whispering a quiet goodnight, then exits the room, shutting the door behind him.

Dimitri conks his head against the table once more after Dedue has left. His company is deeply appreciated, but with the stress piling higher and higher, Dimitri desperately just wants to be alone for the night. Slowly, Dimitri lifts his head up. He grabs a band out of his pocket and ties his hair into a short ponytail, then swipes his messy bangs to the side.

The bags under his eyes only seem to darken as he stares at a particular pile of envelopes pushed off to the end of the desk. He steeples his hands with a grimace. Marriage proposals. Numerous, countless, endless marriage proposals have been sent his way ever since the end of the war. The worst part of it is that if he isn't careful, Gustave will respond to them, the absolute nerve of him, and invite the women over to the castle for a meeting.

It's been even worse as of late. Everyone nags him about needing to find a suitable queen that will provide him with an heir to the throne. Maybe if Dimitri was a natural casanova like Sylvain, he wouldn't have to worry about such tedious manners, but just meeting up with these meaningless women, only to always feel absolutely nothing for them, fills him with a sense of guilt and dread.

Dimitri reaches for the first letter atop the pile. It's from some minor noble family that he should definitely recognize, yet the last name escapes him. He rips apart the seal and opens the letter, holding his lantern up to his face and carefully scanning the handwritten message.

Dear King Dimitri of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus,

My daughter has reached the appropriate age to be wed, we we would love nothing more than for you to consider becoming her betrothed. We will provide you with endless amounts of jewels and delectable feasts for days. We would...

Dimitri gives a hmph and crumples the letter in his hands. He's never been particularly good at magic, but in the past, Byleth did happen to teach him how to cast a simple fire spell: which comes in handy now, as Dimitri snaps his fingers and sets the crumpled letter into flames.

Could he get away with setting all of the letters on fire? Would it be too obvious that he did it himself? Dedue was the only one to see the pile on his desk; Gustave hadn't been by yet that evening to witness Dimitri's budding popularity as husband material.

It makes him feel a little sick to his stomach, the fact that these fathers are so willing to bribe their daughters away to become royalty. Dimitri is too much of the sentimental type to simply settle down with the first "suitable" woman prostrated to him. He would like to marry someone who loves him for who he is, despite his past, someone who he can be himself around, whom he respects and admires as well as genuinely, truly loves.

I wonder if Byleth has married? Dimitri wonders to himself.

Byleth certainly was undoubtedly popular as a bachelor during the war. He wasn't interested in anyone pursuing him, and it was obvious, but the fact remains that if Byleth ever wanted to settle down, he easily could do so. The realization strikes a sort of...lonely feeling inside of Dimitri.

Dissatisfied with his own thoughts, he squishes his cheek against the desk. It seems his face is destined to stay like this, no matter how often he lifts his head back up.

He misses Byleth. If these marriage proposals were instead letters from Byleth, then he'd answer them right away. He wouldn't resort to piling them up and burning them to hide the evidence. Dimitri's mind wanders farther than he'd like, to the prospect of Byleth sending him a marriage proposal—

Dimitri groans to no one in particular. This horrible, aching hollowness in his chest hasn't left him since six months ago when Byleth left his side. Every day, without fail, Dimitri thinks about the warm embrace they shared before Byleth parted ways with him, tears stinging at his eyes; Dimitri shamelessly sobbed, spilling desperate promises of meeting again soon.

Six months passed by so fast. If it wasn't for his obligations as king, Dimitri would have fled the castle by now for a secret rendezvous with the future archbishop. The scandals that would explode from that are unthinkable—yet, in his own selfish desires, he wants nothing more than to see him again.

For a moment, Dimitri considers that Byleth might be furious with him for never planning any visitations. He knows that not to be true, however, despite what his sinking guilt wants him to believe. Ironic, how Dimitri waited five years for his professor to return to him, yet a meager six months has felt like a lifetime.

He reaches for a piece of parchment and a quill. He brushes the feather along his forehead in brief thought. Admittedly, he hasn't written a letter himself in quite a while; his handwriting is so poor that Gustave assists him with those types of duties. It would be rather embarrassing to receive a letter regarding an important political affair from the king of Faerghus, only to be unable to decipher what it even says.

With slight hesitance, he touches the tip of the quill to the parchment. Hello, my dearest friend, he begins to write. it's been quite some time since we saw each other last, hasn't it? If your schedule isn't too hectic, I would love for you to visit me at the castle. I've been dying to catch up with you.

"You've been dying to catch up with him?" Dimitri repeats.

Is that too forward? He flushes at his own words. Quickly, he crumples the parchment into a ball and tosses it into the trash can, then grabs a new sheet. Writing a letter should be easier than speaking out loud, so why is this already so difficult?

Dear Byleth, he writes. No, that sounds much too distant. They're closer than something so impersonal. Gods, should he just pretend to be someone else? You're invited to dine with the king of Faerghus! He crosses that off with a thick line of ink.

His mind is starting to feel heavy from onset exhaustion. Yet, he refuses to give in until he's written something he's proud of that he can send to Byleth. It's been far too long since he's seen his friend's face. He only wishes it were easier to be honest about his feelings. His feelings—

To my beloved,

I cannot bear to spend another moment without you by my side. Won't you become my betrothed and live with me in the castle forever? There is no one I would rather spend the rest of my life with, til death do we part. My hands have felt so cold and lonely without yours to hold in them. I hope to receive a reply soon, or better yet, be greeted by your radiant, mesmerizing smile.

♡Love, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd♡

He spends extra care coloring in the hearts next to his name. Only after he's finished daydreaming does he realize exactly what sort of nonsense he's written on this paper.

"Oh, Gods," Dimitri mumbles. "I might as well send a dagger with this letter too. What are you thinking, Dimitri? Have you lost any sense you once had?!"

With a heavy sigh, that parchment is joined with the several other crumpled up letters inside of the trash can. This task will have to unfortunately wait another day. Dimitri will never be able to write a comprehensible letter to the man he's been miserably in love with for nearing six years in this sleep deprived state.

Dimitri doesn't even recall falling asleep until he's being violently shaken awake. He lets out a harsh yell in shock, blearily opening his eye to look up at the owner of such criminally rude hands. He's met with a flash of bright orange hair.

"Gustave," Dimitri groans, voice gruff from sleepiness. "Please allow me five more minutes of rest. I was having such a nice dream."

"Were you, now?" Gustave smiles down at his king. "Your majesty, you'll want to freshen up and get yourself in clean clothes. There is a visitor waiting for you at the castle entrance. Dedue has already gone down to greet them."

"Dedue...?" Dimitri rubs at his eye wearily. "Dedue knows them? Mm, who is it? I don't remember having any meetings or councils scheduled until tomorrow evening."

"You'll want to see for yourself, my king."

Dimitri's bones crack under the pressure of him rising up from the desk. Note to self, he has really got to stop falling asleep at his desk. The stiffness in his neck feels like a thousand little needles jabbing into him.

He mulls over who this mystery visitor could possibly be as he undresses himself and shuffles through his closet for suitable attire. Should he wear something presentable? If it was someone of high stature, surely, Gustave would have had the decency of telling him. Dimitri has a hunch it will simply be another young noblewoman seeking to be courted by him. In that case, Dimitri settles on something flattering, yet casual. He hasn't the need to dress extravagantly for someone he will inevitably reject later on in the day.

His hair is a dishevelled mess. Nothing to be done about it, he supposes. He slips the band out of his hair and lets his mane fall over his shoulders. It's gotten slightly longer since the war ended, and he's aware that he should cut it back to the short length he had while in the academy, yet... A memory of Byleth combing his fingers through his hair while he braids it convinces him not to.

He makes his way out of his quarters and down the main flight of stairs. As he walks down the hall, he squints, trying to make out the figures in the distance. Dedue's tall, remarkable presence is so undeniably him, yet Dimitri cannot make out the man with his back facing him. He seems large, broad, with dark brown hair. As Dimitri's footsteps echo across the hall, the man finally turns around, giving the king a huge smile followed by a boisterous laugh.

"Alois!" Dimitri trots up to him like an excited puppy, immediately wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. "Oh, Alois, it's been so long!"

"Your majesty, how great it is to see you again! You look as handsome and rugged as ever! Not as handsome as me though, of course!"

They both laugh happily, and even Dedue gives the pair a content smile. "I never received word that you were visiting," Dimitri says. "Ah, it is still early. I have time to let the chefs prepare a feast for the evening. So, what brings you here, Alois?"

Alois slaps a palm to his forehead with a sigh. "It's sort of a long story. Maybe the reason why I'm here should explain it to you himself."

"Oh?" Dimitri cocks his head curiously. "Someone came along with you? The more the merrier, I always say! Where have they gone, then? Tell me, who is it?"

Dedue nods his head towards the hallway down the right, leading to the castle's courtyard. "I was told not to ruin the surprise," he says firmly. "He seemed to be overwhelmed and went to get some fresh air."

"Go on then, my boy!" Alois chuckles. "If you don't mind, I'm going to get myself some breakfast. I'm simply starving! I'm going to make like a banana and split!"

Alois looks towards Dimitri after cracking the joke, but the king is already making his way towards the courtyard and missed the punchline. Dedue stares at Alois completely straitlaced. "I get it," Dedue says. "You split a banana peel to get to the interior of the fruit. Clever."

Cold air hits Dimitri's face the instant he steps outside. The sky is cloudy and dark, threatening an impending snowstorm. This time of year is certainly at its harshest climate for Faerghus. He looks around, scanning the courtyard; it appears empty until his eyes dawn upon a vision of shimmering green hair, belonging to a man standing inside of the gazebo, leaning over the fence.

Dimitri feels his heart in his throat. He appears paralyzed until his feet begin to move on their own, marching up to that figure, that man he's been thinking about every night for six months—

"Byleth?" Dimitri's voice threatens to crack from disbelief. "Is that really you? Byleth?"

Byleth turns around and reveals himself to Dimitri, his stoic expression immediately shifting into that beautiful, dazzling smile that Dimitri loves so much. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut short when Dimitri lifts him up into his arms, holds him against his chest and spins him around so merrily that the two begin laughing.

"Ahaha!! Dimi— Dimitri, I can't breathe—"

Perhaps Dimitri squeezed the man too tight out of sheer excitement. With a sincere apology, Dimitri gently sets Byleth back onto his own two feet. The pair smile bashfully at each other, and Byleth can't help himself when he wraps his arms around Dimitri for his own safe, breathable hug. Dimitri falters for a second, but quickly returns the hug with much caution. It would be terrible to squeeze the life out of Byleth in the first five minutes of reuniting.

"How did you get here? Why didn't you tell me beforehand, I would have prepared something, a party, a celebration in your honor! How were you permitted to leave the monastery during your training? Oh, listen to me ramble, I'm just so delighted to have you here—"

"I missed you," Byleth murmurs, voice muffled in Dimitri's chest.

That shuts Dimitri up in an instant. If he weren't a stronger man, he'd have started to cry right on the spot. His hand tangles itself in Byleth's hair, holding him closer to his chest, basking in the warmth this man has always brought to the cold king.

"I missed you, too." The sky joins in on their reunion, dropping puffs of snow down from the heavens. "It's cold out here, is it not? Let's catch up inside. I'll fix you up a warm cup of tea."

They walk hand-in-hand back into the castle, childish grins worn on their faces. Byleth faintly remembers the castle layout from his time here when they took back Fhirdiad, but he pretends to play clueless so Dimitri can guide him to the dining hall, making smalltalk along the way. They coincide with a lost Alois along the way.

"Thank the gods you found me," he says with a laugh. "I thought I would wander these castle halls for the rest of my life!"

After piling their plates with breakfast, the three gather around a table to eat together. Dimitri watches with tender affection as Byleth digs into the food with wild abandon, like a beast that hasn't eaten in weeks.

"Hungry, are you?" Dimitri asks with a smile. "You must have had a long journey here."

Byleth looks up bashfully, meat tumbling out from his open mouth. Alois takes a napkin and wipes at some sauce staining his son's mouth. He looks down at the fork and knife, realizing he probably should have used those in the first place.

"I guess I didn't eat much on the way here." Byleth picks up the fork, jabbing a piece of sausage with it.

"He passed out on me right before we arrived!" Alois slaps his hand on Byleth's shoulder. "He scared the living daylight out of me! Fell off his horse and everything."

"You what?" Dimitri's eyes widen with concern. "Gods, Byleth, you fainted? Are you alright?"

"I—"

Dimitri abruptly grabs Byleth's hands from across the table, causing the former to drop his fork to the ground in surprise. "Let's get you to bed, Byleth. You do look exhausted, now that Alois has mentioned it. I'll prepare the guest room for you."

Dizziness hits Byleth like a brick. Alright, maybe he is tired, but the last thing he wants to do is take a nap when he only just arrived. His eyes soften as he looks to Dimitri, but he cannot hide the exhaustion on his face.

"I'm fine, Dimitri, I promise," Byleth says.

Dimitri squeezes his hands tighter. Alois stares at their hands, then glances up at the two, then back down at their hands. He has a gut feeling that he's interrupting something personal, and briefly wonders if he should leave the two alone before—

Byleth falls from his chair with a thud. Dimitri and Alois are both stunned into silence before they rise from their seats and rush to Byleth's side on the floor.

"Byleth?!" Dimitri cries, shaking him by the shoulders. "Byleth, wake up!"

"He's gone and done it again," Alois says with a dramatic sigh. He presses the back of his hand to Byleth's pale forehead. "He's got a fever. What he needs now is a warm bed and sleep. I don't think he's slept at all these past three weeks!"

Dimitri easily lifts Byleth into his arms. He stares down at him with furrowed eyebrows and a heavy frown. "Byleth, you fool, scaring me like that..."

.....

Byleth wakes up with a pounding headache. His eyes flutter open slowly, surveying the room he now resides in. The bed is so comfortable, he has no desire to move. Paintings adorn the walls, and there's a large bookshelf, but other than that, the room itself is laughably bare, unfitting to be part of a castle.

"...Is that a popular one, then?"

Byleth turns his head to the corner of the room. Dimitri and Alois sit at a small coffee table together, looking through a notebook together.

"Of course it's popular! It's my best joke yet!" Alois is laughing at himself, for seemingly no reason. "It even got a reaction out of Byleth! After I told the joke for the first time, he kept randomly laughing throughout the day. When I'd ask him what's so funny, he'd say, 'I thought about your joke again.' That was the most I'd ever heard him laugh! It was so cute."

"Yes..." Dimitri covers his mouth as he smiles. "Very cute."

Byleth sits up, clutching his forehead. When did he fall asleep? Or did he pass out? All he can remember is eating together with Dimitri, and then... Oh, great, he must have fainted in front of the king. What a great first impression to make, after six months apart.

The clothes he's wearing are not his. He realizes this quickly when the sleeves of his shirt slide down to his elbows. He looks down to his exposed chest; although fully buttoned up, the collar is still much too big for him, and sags down far below his collarbones.

Are these— Dimitri's clothes?

"Byleth!" Dimitri perks up at the sight of Byleth waking up. He rushes to Byleth's side, crawling into bed and once again, taking Byleth's hands into his own. "You scared the wits out of me. How are you feeling?"

Byleth is too tired to fully open his eyes. He looks up at Dimitri, entirely too groggy, and slumps his forehead against Dimitri's shoulder. "I'm tired," he answers honestly.

Dimitri laughs warmly, brushing his thumb along Byleth's hands. Alois takes this as a clear indicator that he should be leaving the room to give the two some much needed alone time.

"I'm going to, uh, explore the castle!" Alois announces, heading for the door.

"Oh, Alois, I apologize." Dimitri looks back at him before he has a chance to escape. "Can we continue our conversation some other time? It's been far too long since I've heard your jokes."

"Of course, of course!" Alois waves his joke notebook in the air. "Hey, want to hear a joke about paper? Wait, nevermind, it's tearable!"

After earning a barking laugh from Dimitri and an exasperated sigh from Byleth, Alois proudly leaves the room and closes the door behind him. "Oh, Alois, he hasn't changed in the slightest," Dimitri says through his laughter.

"I think his jokes have gotten even worse, actually," Byleth admits. "My head hurts."

Dimitri brushes Byleth's bangs out of his eyes. Seeing him in this sleepy state, with his hair a mess, eyes half lidded, wearing his oversized clothing—and Gods, does he look adorable in his clothing—Dimitri is having a hard time keeping a neutral expression.

"I'm so happy to see you again," Dimitri blurts out.

Byleth gives Dimitri a small smile before flopping back down against the mattress. He opens his arms, inviting Dimitri to join him; the former flushes at the action, and settles on shyly laying next to Byleth. That's good enough, Byleth supposes.

"I was afraid you'd be upset with me," Dimitri admits. "I...have been meaning to send you letters, but I simply never have the time, I fear. But I— I've missed you. I'm saying a lot of words right now, aren't I?"

Byleth lets out a soft chuckle. Their hands find each other again, fingers silently looping together. "I've been stressed," Byleth says finally. "I thought getting out of Garreg Mach Monastery would calm me down."

"You?" Dimitri raises his eyebrows. "Stressed? Well, I suppose it would not be easy having your ear talked off by Seteth every day. I get the same treatment from Gustave."

"Seteth might kill me."

"Everything you've said thus far has been very vague, Byleth, and quite frankly, scarily ominous."

Byleth turns his head and frowns at Dimitri. "I'm the archbishop, and I left without any notice. Seteth has got to be running through the halls screaming right now."

The image of Seteth doing exactly that has Dimitri's shoulders shaking with laughter. "Ah, but do you regret your decision to leave?"

"No," Byleth answers honestly, eyes casting down on their linked hands.

"What made you decide to come here, of all places?" Dimitri has to admit—when he saw Byleth, standing in the courtyard, he feared that he had actually mailed the absurd love letter he had written the night before. The coincidence and timing seemed all too good to be true.

"I wanted to see you." Byleth's head hurts significantly less than it had earlier, having Dimitri by his side. "Alois and I traveled for three weeks to get here. I sorta dragged him into this, so he'll suffer Seteth's fury, too."

"You wanted to see me?" Dimitri blinks, struggling to find words. "You— You left Garreg Mach on such short notice because you—"

"Wanted to see you, yes." Byleth's cheeks flush for a brief moment. "When you put it that way, it's kind of irresponsible. I put all of my responsibilities on hold to come see you."

"Do you regret it?" That question again.

"No." That same reply.

Dimitri lifts himself up, resting his weight against his elbow. He gazes down at Byleth for what feels like forever before he slowly leans down, inching closer and closer to Byleth's face. "Can... Can I—"

A knock at the door snaps Dimitri back to reality. Byleth quickly sits up, cheeks a hot pink mess, but he looks no better than the completely flushed Dimitri next to him. They're laying in the king's bed together, blushing like lovesick teenagers, and Byleth is wearing Dimitri's fucking clothes. So, of course, the perfect time for someone to come knocking on their door.

"Your Highness?" comes Gustave's voice. "May I come in?"

No! Dimitri wants to scream. "O-one moment!" he says instead.

"Maybe he won't notice I'm here," Byleth suggests.

"Are you mad?!" Dimitri is darting around the room in a panicked state. He settles on throwing the blankets over Byleth's head to hide him. "Please, don't make a sound!"

"Incognito," Byleth says through the blankets.

Dimitri runs a hand through his hair before opening the door. He leans against the doorframe, attempting to feign innocence and coolness. Gustave immediately can see through this façade, however, and gives Dimitri a questioning glance.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asks, peeking his head through the doorway.

Dimitri waves his hands frantically in front of him. "No, no, of course not! I'm just in here, alone! Doing nothing out of the ordinary."

"Where is Byleth? You've left him all alone after he traveled weeks to visit you?"

"Buh..." Dimitri would kick himself for his hesitance if he could. "Bathroom. Bathroom! He ate some bad mushrooms before getting here. He's having a rough time of it. I'm giving him moral support."

Gustave raises an eyebrow. "I'll have to let the maids know to clean your bathroom with extra care, then."

Dimitri claps his hands together. He cannot believe that actually worked. "Yes, please do! It's a terrible disaster in there right now."

Byleth makes a wretched gagging noise from where he lays in bed, hoping to garner more truth in this abominable lie.

"...Very well, then." Gustave pokes his head into the bedroom one more time, then retracts it, deciding he'd rather not have anything to do with that. "Would you be willing to head into town and gather the ingredients for our feast this evening? I thought to do it myself, but perhaps you would like to show Byleth around. That is...if he is feeling up to it."

Dimitri blinks at him quizzically. "Us? Well, I certainly wouldn't mind getting out of the castle for once."

"It is also a great boost of morale for the townspeople to see the king spending time with his fellow citizens," Gustave adds.

"We will head out immediately, then!" Dimitri says. Byleth lets out a disgusting gag as a reminder of their lie. "Er, as soon as Byleth is feeling better, that is."

"I'll leave you to it, then," Gustave says with a nod, before turning to leave.

Dimitri shuts the door with an exasperated sigh. He slumps his back against it briefly before trotting up to the bed. "Coast is clear," he says.

Byleth sits back up and throws the blanket off of his head. "Did he buy it?" he asks.

"I believe so," Dimitri says with a laugh. "He looked quite disgusted when you began your impromptu puking." He pauses for a moment to inspect the bed. "That was fake, right? You did not vomit on my bed?"

After retrieving his own clothes from the guest room, Dimitri and Byleth make their way out to the town's market. Dedue accompanies them, loyal as ever; Byleth discovers that while Dedue keeps a watchful eye on Dimitri at all times, his eyes also wander to booths adorned with plush animals.

"Did you want to stop and buy one?" Byleth asks.

Dedue seems surprised by Byleth's acknowledgment. He shakes his head, although regretfully so. "Perhaps some other time," he says hopefully.

Even during the coldest time of the year, Fhirdiad is still bustling and busy as ever. The market is aligned with mostly booths selling scarves, winter coats, and hot coffee or tea. It's much colder here than it was at Garreg Mach, and Byleth had sorely planned for that; hugging his arms to his chest, he shivers as they make their way through the crowd.

"Are you cold?" Dimitri notices instantly. He takes off his coat and wraps it around Byleth's shoulders, who in turn slides his arms through its large sleeves. "There, much better. Ah, Byleth. Take my hand. I don't want to lose you in this hefty crowd. You as well, Dedue."

Byleth does as he's told and grips Dimitri's hand as he leads them towards the meat shops. Byleth looks behind him at Dedue and stretches his hand out in offering; Dedue gives him the smallest of smiles and takes his hand. The three of them linked together bop and weave through the townspeople, many of whom stop for a moment to admire their king as he passes by.

It really is as if Dimitri is a God amongst his people. The way they gaze upon him with utmost respect, the way they smile when he nods and waves in their direction, how they light up upon their king giving them recognition. Is that how the church feels when they see Byleth? Somehow, he doubts it.

He hears a few passersby comment on 'the green haired man with the king'. Dimitri seems to have heard them, too, as Byleth feels him grip his hand a little tighter, almost as if protecting him from these people that certainly do not mean him any harm. Byleth wonders if anyone recognizes him as the archbishop, or simply as the man that helped put an end to the war alongside Dimitri.

Dedue and Byleth wait outside the butcher shop while Dimitri gathers everything he needs. The snow is falling down harder than it had been earlier. Byleth's teeth are still chattering, even despite the addition of Dimitri's warm coat. It smells like him, Byleth takes note.

"Would you like my coat, as well?" Dedue offers.

"I-I'm f-f-f-fine."

Dedue settles on wrapping his large scarf around Byleth's face instead. He can hardly breathe, as it covers up to his nose, but he cannot deny that he is much warmer now. Dimitri emerges from the shop, bags of meat in his arms, and Dedue quickly takes half of the load into his own arms.

"Is that Dedue's scarf?" Dimitri asks. "I suppose you still are not as accustomed to this climate as we are... I have to say though, you look positively adorable. Er, wouldn't you agree, Dedue?"

Dedue gives Dimitri a knowing glance before turning to Byleth. "Yes. Very adorable."

It's suddenly too hot for Byleth under all this clothing. He blinks up at Dimitri and Dedue, the two of which cannot see his pouting lip underneath the scarf.

"Well then!" Dimitri's cheeks seem more flushed than they were earlier. "Let us hurry and gather the rest of our supplies before poor Byleth turns into a popsicle."

Sitting by the fireplace in the castle's dining hall feels heavenly. Byleth is huddled up so close to it that his hair should surely light on fire. He hugs his knees to his chest, scraping up as much warmth as possible.

"Preparations for the feast are in order!" Dimitri strides up to Byleth, taking a seat on the ground next to him. "I made sure to pick out all of your favorites. You are not very picky though, are you? Back at the monastery, I remember you'd eat just about anything."

"Food is food," Byleth says. "I ate some nasty stuff back when I lived as a mercenary. Guess it kinda made me appreciate anything that's actually edible?"

"That sounds horrendous." Dimitri laughs. "Were we not so far off about our mushroom scenario, then?"

"Unfortunately, no." Byleth shudders at certain memories resurfacing. "Just do yourself a favor and never eat any wild mushrooms or berries you come across. Claude used those things in his schemes for a reason."

Dimitri smiles as warmly as the fire down at Byleth, then turns his head to face the flames. The way it lights up his wonderfully masculine features makes Byleth's heart skips a beat, and it doesn't even have a beat. He stares at him for a long while, as if stuck in a trance.

"During those five years you were gone," Dimitri says slowly, closing his eye, "I ate the most foul things. I would roast rats on sticks. Eat grass, like a wild animal. But I had no sense of taste, so it never bothered me, I suppose."

Byleth gives Dimitri the most heartwrenching, grief stricken expression. "I'm... I'm so sorry. That's one of the worst things I've ever heard. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

Dimitri seems startled by Byleth's response. When he looks to him, and sees his watery eyes, Dimitri lets out a small sigh as he cups a hand to Byleth's cheek. "Gods, I was trying to be funny, not make you cry! I— I've never been one for comedy. I think my jokes leave everyone uncomfortable."

Byleth lets out a relieved laugh after that statement. He scoots a little closer to Dimitri and nuzzles his face closer into his hand; the action causes Dimitri to flush so terribly that he draws his hand back on instinct. It makes Byleth frown, and Dimitri curses himself when he sees it.

"S-so," Dimitri quickly changes the subject, "how long were you planning on staying here, then?"

The question leaves Byleth tongue tied. He hadn't thought that far ahead—his only goal was to arrive. He'd never actually planned on leaving. Forever, Byleth thinks. "Forever," he says out loud.

"Hm?" Dimitri gives a sheepish smile. "Is it your turn for jokes now, Byleth?"

Byleth doesn't give a response. He stares at the roaring flames in front of him, its heat nothing compared to the warmth Dimitri beside him radiates. The prospect of becoming a court jester at the castle with Alois doesn't sound so bad right now.

Dimitri hesitates for a brief moment before settling a hand on Byleth's knee. "You can stay as long as you'd like, my dear friend."

Byleth rests his head against Dimitri's shoulder. They sit there together in comfortable silence for a long while until dinner is ready. The feast is delicious, as they always are when Dedue is leading the kitchen. Byleth is overjoyed to see some signature Duscur cuisines added into the mix.

"Have you heard?" Dimitri smiles as he watches Byleth tear into the Duscur bear meat. "Ashe has opened up an inn specializing in meals from Duscur, not too far from here. Would you like to get lunch there together some time?"

Byleth's eyes light up. "Yes!" he says through a mouth full of food. "I was wondering how everyone has been. Have you heard from anyone else?"

"A little bit, yes." Dimitri taps his fork on the table in thought (so, Byleth thinks, he started using tableware again). "Ingrid is a knight in my service—she's been out on a mission for a few days, but she should be returning to the castle soon. Let's see... Sylvain and Felix took up their respective titles as Margrave Gautier and Duke Fraldarius. Every now and again they visit the castle for councils."

Simply hearing their names leaves a fond smile on Byleth's face. "What about Annette and Mercede?"

"Them, I'm not too certain about," Dimitri admits. "I believe Annette has become a teacher at the school of sorcery. That's what Gustave boasts about, anyhow. As for Mercedes... I do remember her saying something about running an orphanage before she left."

"That's wonderful," Byleth says. "That sounds just like them, after all. I've been so—" He clears his throat before he can potentially overshare his feelings. "I miss everyone, is all."

Dimitri gives Byleth an understanding smile from across the table. "I'm positive they miss you, too. It's impossible not to."

After dinner, Dimitri guides Byleth to the guest bedroom he'll be staying in. Byleth already knows where it is, but he isn't about to turn down any opportunity to spend time with the king.

"Your hair's gotten longer, hasn't it?" Byleth asks.

Dimitri holds a hand up to his hair, fiddling around with it as they walk down the halls. "Yes, it has. It looks rather unruly, doesn't it? Not very befitting of a king."

"No," Byleth quickly interjects. "I like it."

They arrive at the door to Byleth's guest room. Byleth sets his hand on the doorknob, but hesitates, looking up at Dimitri. There's a sort of longing in both of their eyes that neither are willing to come to terms with.

Dimitri is still playing around with his hair. "There's— Uh, there's a bathroom, connected to your room. If you need to freshen up before you sleep."

"Oh, thank you."

Why is this so needlessly awkward? Dimitri flails an arm in front of himself for a brief second before settling his hand on Byleth's shoulder. The former jumps slightly at the unexpected contact.

"Goodnight," Dimitri finally spits out. "Sweet— Er, sleep...dreams. Tight. Um—"

Byleth blinks up at him, then smiles warmly. "Goodnight, Dimitri." He then twists the door open and retreats into his room, softly closing the door behind him.

"Sleep dreams?!" Dimitri scolds himself the entire way back to his quarters.

The next two days go by rather uneventfully. Dimitri is more than busy with a constant stream of workload. Byleth expected this, though—he knows better than to show up unannounced, demanding Dimitri put his political affairs aside and place all of his attention on him. That selfish desire tucks itself away in his heart.

Byleth stands inside of Fhirdiad's largest church, staring up at the Saint Seiros statue in front of him. Her serene eyes hold a sinister bewitchment to them that only Byleth feels. The nuns and townspeople are silent in their prayers, hands held together, heads hung low, bowing to their Goddess.

He feels like a poor archbishop, to be standing here, watching everyone pray, holding contempt for them. Why does anger boil inside of him? Why does he scorn them for simply praying to a higher being that gives them a sense of safety and hope?

His skin crawls. He holds a hand up to his heart, slowly closes his eyes, and breathes softly. He knows why he's angry—damn it all for being stupidly selfish reasons. Simply the fact that he is not allowed to live out his own life sets him on horrible edge. He must live out the life that was planned out for him by birth.

It irritates him, how in truth, he knows next to nothing about Rhea, yet now must devote his life to her cause. To act as a figurehead for a religion he did not even know existed until he became a professor. His head only hurts the longer he thinks about it.

If anything, he will continue doing this only for Sothis. If not for Sothis, he wouldn't even be alive right now, and for that, he is more than eternally grateful. He wishes he could talk to her, just one more time, so that she could call him an idealistic fool for pushing away his position.

"Do you not want to worship me?" she'd say in a huff. "Teach the people of my greatness. Go on! Do not let my memory die in vain!"

He balls his hands into fists. Suck it up and smile like a good boy, Byleth, he thinks. When not in his robes, no one seems to recognize him as being the archbishop. He thought for sure his bright green hair would be a dead giveaway to most people, but to them, he is just another person, standing in the church.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Dimitri's voice comes from behind him; Byleth turns around so quickly that he nearly gives himself whiplash. A few nuns shush Dimitri, until realizing just who he is, thus follows in them rapidly dishing out apologies for being so disrespectful to their king. Dimitri waves his arms and apologizes instead for being so loud in the church—still such a sweet, modest boy at heart.

The king holds a finger to his lips, grabs Byleth by the hand, and leads him out of the church and into the snowy outside of Fhirdiad. Any anguish previously clouding Byleth's heart is now instantaneously diminished into nothing as he locks his fingers between Dimitri's. They walk along the side streets, Byleth unsure of where they're going, but not caring either way.

"I managed to sneak out of the council early," Dimitri says.

"You? Sneaking out to meet me? Scandalous."

Dimitri flushes, very noticeably, and whines down at Byleth. "It was a discussion we'd already had three times prior! I hardly wanted to sit through another round of figuring out how to diminish Fhirdiad's rodent problem." There's a slight pause before he follows up with: "I'd much rather spend the day with you."

Byleth looks to his left, trying to hide the blush now creeping up on his cheeks. He can feel Dimitri smiling down at him, and it makes it even worse. "I didn't know Fhirdiad has a rodent problem. I haven't seen any rats running around."

"Yes, because I cooked them all into ratatouille—" The incredulous look Byleth shoots up at Dimitri makes it impossible for them both not to laugh. "Are you not a fan of my rat eating jokes? I'll have to ask Alois for new material."

"Eating rats isn't funny to most people, I think," Byleth says, in between fits of laughter.

Dimitri's heart flutters at the sound. "I want to hear you laugh all the time." Realizing he definitely just said that out loud, he clears his throat to quickly change the subject. "I-I was hoping to take you to Ashe's inn for lunch right now, if that's quite alright with you. I do hope it is, because we are already headed there."

"Y-yeah." and now Byleth is just as embarrassed as Dimitri. "That sounds great."

They arrive at the inn much faster than Byleth had anticipated. It's set up only five minutes away from the church, in a cozy little corner of town. They walk through the doors, still hand in hand, and Byleth notes how busy the place is. A mix of customers and employees alike are hustling around with enthusiastic smiles on their faces.

"Welcome to Ubert & Molinaro's! How can we h—"

Ashe, behind the front counter, is stunned into silence upon seeing the two walk into his building. It takes him a minute before he makes his way to them, jumbling through a few employees on the way—he trips, but Dimitri catches him and then brings him into a warm hug, followed by Ashe throwing himself at Byleth.

"Professor! Professor, it's really you!" Ashe speaks as if he's about to burst into tears. "I'm so happy to see you! Oh, it hasn't even been that long, but it feels like it's been forever!"

Byleth pats Ashe's back, laughter tumbling out from the happiness welling up inside of him. "I'm happy to see you, too, Ashe. I've thought about you so much."

Ashe takes them up to his private quarters, away from the crowd. 'It's busy, but they'll manage without me! This is important!' he'd said. They'd all grabbed a plate of food from the kitchen before trudging up the stairs and into his room.

"It isn't much, but I call it home here!" Ashe begins brewing a pot of tea for them. "I was so shocked to see you walk in, Profes... Oh, I'm sorry, Byleth! Sir Byleth. Archbishop Byleth?"

"Just Byleth is fine," he assures him.

"So did Dimitri finally confess, then?" Ashe asks eagerly. "You two tied the knot? I saw you holding hands—"

Dimitri spits his food out so violently that sausage and egg remnants splatter directly onto Byleth's face. He coughs, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he desperately shakes his head at Ashe to please God shut up right now.

Byleth groans as he wipes meat off his face with his sleeve. "What are y—"

"Tying knots is a very common Fhirdiad tradition!" Ashe squeaks. "Dimitri...must have confessed that he loves tying...knots...in his shoelaces!"

"He hasn't told me that," Byleth says prudently. He kindly offers Dimitri a glass of water when his coughing fits show no signs of diminishing. "Do you like tying knots in your shoelaces?"

"Y-yes, I love it!" Dimitri is still struggling to maintain his composure. "Oh, I am so sorry for spitting my meal all over you— I don't know what came over me—"

Unexpectedly, Byleth laughs in response. "Don't worry about it," he says. "You are so enthusiastic about tying knots! You'll have to tie one for me some time."

"Ah..." Dimitri stares at Byleth, completely redfaced. "Of course..."

Ashe feels as if he's intruding on something in his own home. He pours the tea into teacups and places them down on the table before seating himself with them. He keeps glancing at their hands, fully expecting to see wedding bands and for this to be a weird joke they set up for him.

"So, Ubert & Molinaro's, huh...?" Byleth sips his tea, jolting at how hot it still is. "Molinaro, isn't that Dedue's last name?"

"Oh!" Ashe smiles a bit bashfully. "Yes, yes it is. Dedue and I, we..."

"They're engaged," Dimitri finishes for him, unable to contain his own excitement on the matter.

Byleth thinks back to how he always kept them together on the battlefield—Dedue acting as Ashe's shield, while the former rained arrows down upon their enemies. Did he potentially have a part in this, unintentionally playing matchmaker in the middle of war?

"Ashe, that's wonderful news," Byleth says, eyes widening when Ashe flashes the ring on his finger. "How long have you been together, then...?"

Ashe fiddles around with his ring finger, always so bashful when speaking about himself. "It was a few weeks after he returned to us at the Great Bridge of Myrddin. I was...so afraid of losing him again. I decided, even if I am rejected, I would tell him how I feel." The memory of it makes Ashe laugh to himself. "He was in the greenhouse. I marched right up to him, delcaring I had something to tell him. My hands and voice were shaking so terribly. I looked him right in the eye and shouted, 'I love you, Dedue Molinaro!'"

Dimitri simply smiles fondly, clearly having heard this story before; Byleth's eyes widen, like a child being told a fairytale for the first time. "Well? What'd he say?!" Byleth demands.

"He looked me right in the eyes and said, 'I already know this.' How do you even respond to something like that? I mustered all that courage for a confession that he somehow already knew about?" Ashe has a dreamy look in his eyes. "Well, it turns out he thought I meant, you know, a familial love. Not romantic love. He told me, 'I love you too, Ashe. You are a great friend to me.' Felt like getting punched in the stomach!"

Dimitri laughs just at the thought of it. "That does sound like our Dedue, though."

"How did you convince him you were in love with him?" Byleth asks, cocking his head in thought.

Ashe stares down at his teacup as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. "It took a few days. I would tell him, without fail, every day, that I loved him. He didn't seem to understand. So I—" He clutches the teacup, laughing nervously. "One day I just, grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him. It wasn't as easy as it sounds, he's so tall, I had to practically jump up on him—"

Ashe seems caught off guard by how intently Byleth and Dimitri are staring at him. Even their cheeks are dusted pink, and the story isn't even their own. Ashe shyly coughs, taking a drink from his tea, suddenly bashful that he has an audience.

"A-after I kissed him, he just stared at me. For a really long time. I felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest—I just kept waiting for him to reject me, or ask me why I would do something like that. But...then he leaned down, and kissed me again."

Dimitri's face is in his hands as he blubbers hopelessly. "I'm so happy—" he chokes out through sobs, "for you two, every time I hear that story, I cannot help myself."

"A-are you really crying, Your Highness?!" Ashe rushes to hand him a box of tissues; even Byleth takes one, lightly dabbing at his eyes. "Not you too, Byleth?!"

"I can't believe I never noticed," Byleth says, with a small sniffle. "You were together that whole time..."

"Well, we did keep it sort of private until the war ended," Ashe admits. "Then I started this inn. When he isn't busy serving His Highness, he helps me out in the kitchen. He plans on working here full time after the wedding. He says that, anyway... Ahaha. I cannot imagine Dedue ever fully leaving His Highness's side."

Dimitri laughs at that, as well. "I try to get him to spend more time with you, I swear it! You know he has always been as stubborn as a mule. He loves you dearly, though, Ashe. He will commit to you."

They hear a loud crash coming from downstairs, followed by what seems to be an explosion. Ashe jumps up from his seat, already running to the door. "Oh, no, what was that? Is Annette in my kitchen?" He frowns towards Byleth and Dimitri. "I'm so sorry, I have to help them before my inn catches on fire. Can we meet up another time and talk more?"

"Absolutely," Dimitri says, rising from his seat. "Let's bring Dedue with us next time, as well. It isn't the same without him here."

"I'll bring cake," Byleth chimes in.

Ashe smiles happily at the two before bolting out of his room when another crash ensues.

"Married, huh..."

Dimitri and Byleth walk along the snowy streets of Fhirdiad with no particular destination in mind. Dimitri had simply said he did not want to return to the castle just yet if he absolutely did not have to, which Byleth fully obliged by. He spends about every waking hour there, after all.

"Hm?" Dimitri glances down at Byleth. "Oh, still thinking of Ashe and Dedue?"

"I'm happy for them," Byleth says. "I've been so worried about everyone since we all parted ways. I'm just...relieved." He lets out a sigh. "Relieved that I don't have to worry about anyone, I guess."

Dimitri smiles down at him, taking his hand into his own. "For as stoic as you appear, you have the kindest heart of anyone I know."

"Stoic?" Byleth knits his brows together. "You still think I'm stoic? I've been trying so hard to be more expressive." He gives Dimitri a goofy, toothy grin. "How's this?"

"Perfect." Dimitri laughs. "I'm not so good with expressions, myself. We have that in common. However, you—" Dimitri clears his throat. "You look best when you smile."

Byleth blinks up at Dimitri; a pounding ache burns in his chest. Is this how Ashe feels with Dedue, he wonders? The question leaves him feeling more sad than anything else. His hand feels so safe and warm in Dimitri's.

"Ah, wait! Over here. I want to show you something."

Dimitri roughly leads Byleth away from the crowd, past an alley and through a thicket of trees. Byleth can hardly keep up with how fast Dimitri is moving—he clutches his hand like a lifeline, allowing the king to drag him through the forest.

"Where are we going?!" Byleth asks, spitting leaves out of his mouth. "Dimitri, slow down, I can't—"

Dimitri comes to an abrupt halt once they arrive at an open clearing. Byleth bumps into the back of him, earning a mouthful of fluff from his coat hood. Dimitri laughs, squeezing Byleth's hand and pointing towards the sky.

"I apologize, Byleth," he says. "I did not want you to miss this, however. Look."

Byleth removes himself from Dimitri's coat fluff and stands beside him, overlooking the scenery. The lake in front of them is completely frozen over; Byleth wonders briefly if they could stand on it without it cracking underneath them.

The sun begins to set over the horizon. Byleth watches, mesmerized, as the sky fades into a deep purple, with a hue of red undertoning it—as if the sky has been set aflame with the passion of the sun and moon greeting one another, passing each other by in a private moment between the two.

With the moon now taking over the sun's duties for the night, her radiant light casts down upon the frozen lake, causing the ice to shimmer beautifully, as if sparkling against her reflection.

"It's..." Byleth is at a loss for words. "It's beautiful..."

Dimitri has been fixated on Byleth the entire time. Watching the way his features light up from excitement, how his eyes glisten under the moon, his cheeks flushing magnificently from sheer wonder. "It is," Dimitri says, unable to take his eyes off of him. "Beautiful. So beautiful."

Byleth looks up at Dimitri, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Dimitri is then immediately taken off guard as Byleth dashes onto the frozen lake, pulling Dimitri by the arm and dragging him along. The king lets out a shriek befitting a startled child as their feet effortlessly glide across the ice.

"B-Byleth!" Dimitri grabs onto both of Byleth's hands like a safety net. "Wh-whaaaat are you doiiiiing?!"

All Byleth does is laugh: a genuine, loud, exuberant laugh. As he twirls them both around and around in circles, Dimitri is starstruck, completely mesmerized by the man before him, looking the happiest he's ever looked in his entire life.

Then suddenly, Byleth loses his footing—he stumbles backwards, letting go of Dimitri's hands as his arms flail uselessly in the air. A small scream falls from his lips as he feels himself falling, falling—

Dimitri deftly catches him, hands clutching his back and waist. Dimitri leans forward, their noses touching, panting on each other's faces as they stare at each other in bewilderment. If either of them turn their faces just slightly, their lips would connect. Byleth stares desperately into Dimitri's eyes, searching for something, anything, a type of confirmation. It feels like hours pass, though it's only been mere seconds.

"Are you—" Dimitri finally speaks up, his breath feeling like flames against Byleth's lips. "Are you alright?"

Dimitri's heart pounds like a drum inside of his chest. Being this close is torture, pure torture, but he's frozen in place from shock. Thankfully, Byleth clings himself to Dimitri's arms and slowly uprights himself, legs trembling.

"I'm okay," Byleth says shakily. He doesn't let up his grip on Dimitri, gluing himself to his chest. "I-I'm, uh, I'm okay! Ahaha...! I don't think I can move."

They both end up laughing nervously, both so totally embarrassed that neither knows how to react. Dimitri, in the end, has to carry Byleth as he slowly, very cautiously, steps off the frozen lake. Byleth, now shivering, nuzzles himself into Dimitri's chest in such a tender way that Dimitri can't bring himself to let him go, and takes a hidden route back to the castle so no one will see them sneaking around so late at night.

Byleth has already fallen asleep in Dimitri's arms by the time they return to the castle. Like a kitten, Dimitri thinks fondly. The castle is mostly empty, save for a few soldiers wandering around the halls, none of which questions their king as he passes by with the sleeping archbishop in his arms.

Dimitri arrives at the guest room, struggling for a good second to even open the door without waking up Byleth in the process, or even worse, dropping him. He enters safely, however, and gently places Byleth into his bed, pulling the blankets up over him.

He sits at the edge of the bed, watching the rise and fall of Byleth's chest. Dimitri pushes a few locks of green hair out of his face—his cheeks are still cold from the winter air. He leans forward, looking at Byleth's soft, parted lips.

How his heart aches, miserably longing for something he's afraid he can never have. For the love of his life to suddenly appear at his doorstep, it must have been a sign from the Goddess herself. Tell him, Dimitri's brain has been chanting, over and over, for days on end. Tell him, tell him, tell him.

Stupidly, barbarically foolish of Dimitri to even wish for someone such as Byleth to return his feelings. The fear of rejection holds itself too heavily in Dimitri's heart, and yet, seeing Byleth, here and now, asleep in his castle—it feels right. It's all he's ever dreamed of.

Dimitri breathes in a hard ball of air before softly pressing his lips to Byleth's forehead. "Goodnight, dear friend," he whispers. "I love you."

"Are we sure this is from Seteth?"

Byleth has read the letter assigned to him at least a hundred times, but each time it makes less and less sense. Alois stands behind him, scanning the words as if it's in a foreign language.

To the Archbishop,

Looking past your unceremoniously short notice of your departure, there is no reason for me to stop you from enjoying yourself. I suppose everyone deserves a vacation every now and then. Please, just do not forget your duties, and return to us soon.

Sincerely, Seteth

P.S. Flayn has requested you bring her a souvenir.

"This is weird," Byleth mumbles. "This is fucking weird. I think the real Seteth has been abducted. We might have to file a report."

"You never told him we were coming to Fhirdiad, right?" Alois swipes the letter out of Byleth's hands. "Did he install a tracking device under your skin? Maybe he's watching us right now... Oh, this is too scary!"

Dimitri sorts through the letters assigned to him, sighing heavily. The last thing he wants to see right now are multiple marriage proposals when Byleth is standing right beside him.

"It has been a week since you arrived," Gustave says, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps he had scouts track your movement. It would not be an impossible feat."

"Return to us soon, he says." Byleth mulls over that statement. "How soon is soon, do you think? Maybe a month."

"We shouldn't overstay our welcome, you know," Alois teases, jabbing Byleth in the rib. "We've already been here a week! I can't believe we haven't been kicked out the front doors yet!"

Dimitri looks up from his letters, a troubled frown on his face as he gazes at Byleth. Gustave gives him a knowing glance, to which Dimitri pretends he hadn't seen it—it's futile, however, as Gustave quietly takes Dimitri aside to speak with him.

"More marriage proposals, I presume," Gustave murmurs.

Dimitri lets out a sigh so hefty it could crush the earth. "Everyone is going to start questioning why the king of Faerghus has not been wed yet. Why he hasn't produced an heir yet."

"Do none catch your fancy?" Gustave takes the letters away from Dimitri, sifting through them. "Or perhaps... Does someone already have your eye?"

As if on instinct, Dimitri's eyes flit over to Byleth. He notices the subtle eye contact and gives a tiny wave to Dimitri, who in return gives a tiny wave back. The stupid grin stuck on Dimitri's face is enough evidence for Gustave.

"Aha."

"Aha?" Dimitri turns back to Gustave, tilting his head.

"You cannot play coy with me, Your Majesty." Gustave leans in closer, whispering into the king's ear: "You are in love with the archbishop, yes?"

"Gustave!" Dimitri jerks away, eyes round as saucers. The way his face reddens like a flame is more telling than anything.

"I do apologize for teasing you, Your Majesty," Gustave says with a chuckle. "If only I had known sooner. I feel deep repentance for forcing you to meet with so many young women."

"I just— I..." Dimitri continually glances over at Byleth, who is currently being bombarded by a series of new jokes from Alois. "I don't..."

Gustave frowns along with him. "I know it is not easy. But listen to me closely, Your Majesty: Do not live as I did, filled with eternal regrets for the rest of your life." He follows Dimitri's gaze towards Byleth. "If you truly love something, you cannot let it go."

Byleth sidles up to Dimitri, grasping his arm and hiding behind him. "Help," Byleth pleads. "Save me."

Alois jogs after him in a hurry, waving his notebook of jokes in the air. "Don't let him hide, Your Highness!" he cries. "You may be my son, but I kid you not, I have more jokes to tell!"

Dimitri holds his stomach as he lets out a roar of laughter.

"That doesn't make sense!" Byleth yells. "Dimitri, don't encourage him!"

After much bickering back and forth, Dimitri is able to pry Byleth away from the reckoning force that is Alois, with the promise to sit and listen to his jokes later in the day. Dimitri, certainly, is looking forward to it, but Byleth hopes the day passes by as slowly as possible in order to avoid the inevitable.

"You got cheese in yours?" Byleth asks, biting into a steamed bun Dimitri bought for him at a stall in town. "I didn't know they made them that way."

Dimitri bites into his own bun, hot cheese gushing out from the middle. "Oh, it's so good," Dimitri practically moans.

Byleth giggles, dabbing at some cheese on Dimitri's cheek with a napkin. "I'm sure it is—" He pauses for a moment, staring up at Dimitri wide-eyed. "Hang on, you can taste it?"

The realization dawns upon Dimitri like a sack of bricks. He drops the bun with a yell, as if it were trying to kill him. "I...I tasted it..."

He leans down to pick up the bun, but Byleth pulls on his sleeve, refusing to let him eat food off the floor. Instead, he offers his own bun, eager to see if Dimitri will be able to taste something once more.

"It's very faint," Dimitri surmises in between bites. "I'm not getting much flavor, and yet... There is something..."

Byleth looks shaken to near tears. He throws his arms around Dimitri, his bun now residing on the ground next to Dimitri's. "You can taste it," Byleth says into his chest.

Dimitri flushes at the sudden contact, but quickly brings his arms around Byleth's back, nuzzling his face against the top of the shorter man's head. This earns them a few skeptical glances from passersby, who start whispering gossip to each other.

Let them talk, Dimitri wants to say. Say whatever you will about your king. Any rumors you conjure up will not hurt me. But Byleth...

Dimitri abruptly breaks away from the hug, pushing Byleth to the side, avoiding Byleth's hurt expression when he does so. Dimitri could not bear it if rumors came around, of a green haired floozy hanging around the king, scathing the archbishop's reputation.

His townspeople are better than that. Surely, Dimitri knows that better than anyone. Yet the idea of Byleth being scorned for spending too much time around him fills him with anguish, especially in such a time where everyone is expecting him to be finding a wife so soon.

The thought makes him sick to his stomach. He should not be letting his mind rattle around like this, not when Byleth is standing right in front of him, confused and concerned.

"I'm sorry, Byleth, I— Please, get away from me—" Dimitri backs away slowly, then, holding his head in his hands, he takes off, running for the castle.

Byleth stands there, a hand stretched out towards Dimitri's far-off figure, with only their tarnished steamed buns for company.

...

The inn isn't as busy as it was the previous day. Byleth sits in a stool at the food bar, kicking his legs above the ground as he blows air through the straw into his chocolate milk.

"Troubling, indeed," Dedue murmurs, as he uses a towel to dry a pile of plates in front of him. "His Highness is not typically one to run from his problems."

"I do remember once," Ashe chimes in, "Sylvain had told me that a girl was chasing Dimitri around the academy, so he ran and hid in Sylvain's room."

That makes Byleth frown even deeper, if humanly possible. "Did I make him mad?" he asks. "Maybe I've been here too long. He is really busy, after all. I should leave—"

"No!" Ashe and Dedue both shout in unison, causing Byleth to jump in his seat.

"What we mean is," Ashe says quickly, "you shouldn't jump to conclusions so quickly! You should go talk to him."

Dedue nods in agreement. "You haven't upset him. This much I can guarantee you."

Byleth stirs the straw around in his drink. "You guys are talking like you know something that I don't," he points out. "Am I missing out on something?"

"No!" comes the couple's synced reply.

Byleth glowers at them suspiciously.

"J-just trust us!" Ashe squeaks.

"He's been going through a lot recently," Dedue says solemnly. "Your company has helped keep him sane."

"He's right," Ashe says. "That's why you should go talk to him. I'm sure he didn't intend to hurt your feelings by running off! More than anything, he must want to see you right now."

Byleth sits on that thought for a while. The way Dimitri pushed him away, telling him to leave—it reminded him of when they reunited on that day, now almost two years ago, in the monastery. Back when Dimitri was so clouded with his thirst for vengeance, that nothing else mattered.

He's no longer that Dimitri, Byleth knows it. That darkness will never entirely leave his soul, but he's found a way to keep it contained. He must be agonizingly torn up over something, for that uncouth behavior to jump out of him once more.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," Byleth finally decides. "Thanks for the chocolate milk." He takes one more giant slurp from the straw before waving goodbye to the couple and dashing out the front door.

"Goodness, I feel like I'm part of a romance novel," Ashe says with a sigh. "I have never seen two people so obviously in love with each other, yet neither of them realize it."

"I did not realize you were in love with me," Dedue says helpfully.

"You're not being helpful," Ashe sighs.

Byleth meanders the castle, hopelessly lost, even after spending a week here. Dimitri always guided him by the hand, so he never really paid too much attention to directions when he knew that Dimitri knew exactly where he was going.

He ends up knocking on every single closed door like a priest hoping to spread the wise word of his religion, only to end up apologizing to a good number of people of whom he doesn't even know. Truly, it's a wonder how no one has reported him to a guard yet.

Happening upon a cracked open door, Byleth peaks his head through it and glances around. When he sees a tuft of blonde hair move across the room, he quickly withdraws, gluing himself against the wall.

He must not have seen him. After a moment, Byleth scoots back towards the door, allowing himself to peak his head inside once more.

"I know you're there," Dimitri says, with a sigh.

Byleth squeaks. "Can I come in?"

Dimitri opens the door, towering over Byleth with a menacing, almost melancholic aura. Not letting that deter him, Byleth enters his room, sucking in a deep breath before he speaks.

"I'm sorry," Dimitri says before him, leaving Byleth slackjawed. "You don't have to forgive me, but I apologize. The way I manhandled you, I—" Dimitri stares at the floor in disgust. "There is no reason for me to have pushed you away."

"No, Dimitri, it's okay!" Byleth shuffles forward, holding his arms out, as if intending to grab Dimitri, but then retracts himself. "I think I should be the one apologizing."

"You?" Dimitri blinks at him, stupified. "What could you have to apologize for? You've done nothing wrong."

"I showed up with no warning, when you have so much work, yet you keep making time for me." Byleth frowns up at Dimitri. "It's selfish of me, to want you all to myself, when you have so much to do."

Damn it! Dimitri curses himself, unable to stop the blush creeping up on his cheeks. "Please don't apologize," Dimitri says weakly. "Especially not with that look on your face. I don't want to see you looking so sad."

"But—"

Dimitri walks up to Byleth and wraps his arms around him, so tight that Byleth can barely breathe. He's filled with such an intense burst of warmth, and he craves more, quickly reciprocating the embrace as he nuzzles his face into Dimitri's shoulder.

A dam bursts inside of Dimitri all at once, and suddenly, he's shedding tears more heavily than a waterfall. Byleth pulls away from the hug and cries out in shock, standing on his tippy-toes and cupping Dimitri's face in his hands.

"Why are you crying?" Byleth asks, brushing at his tears with his thumb. "Oh no, did Alois force you to listen to his jokes without me?"

"Oh, Byleth." Dimitri is now struggling not to laugh between his sniffling sobs. "You are simply too much for me. I... You cannot fathom how much you mean to me."

I love you, Dimitri chants, over and over in his mind. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Byleth brushes Dimitri's bangs out of his face and bumps his forehead against the king's, allowing himself to laugh. "Can I sleep with you, in here tonight?" he asks.

They lay together in Dimitri's bed, snuggled close; Byleth rests his head on Dimitri's chest, allowing his king to pet softly at his hair. He feels as though he could fall asleep any second now, from how at peace he is.

Gods, if Dimitri had known Byleth would cuddle up to him like a cat so mercilessly, he might not have agreed to this. Byleth's warm body against his own feels like the sun itself is in bed with him. He's only thankful that Byleth cannot see how dangerously red his face has become.

If they can never become anything more than this, perhaps Dimitri would still be satisfied. This simple, bittersweet pleasure of having the man he's in love with relaxed in his arms is enough for him, right now, in this moment.

"Did you ever question your role as king?" Byleth suddenly asks.

Dimitri opens his eye, looking down at Byleth's bright green hair. He considers the question before giving his response. "Yes," he answers honestly. "Not often, but yes. When we took back Fhirdiad, I felt especially unworthy. For my people to welcome back a king that had abandoned them—it was unthinkable to me."

Byleth drapes an arm across Dimitri's chest, cuddling himself closer. "I don't know if I can be the archbishop."

"Mm? What makes you say that?"

"I came here because I was questioning myself," Byleth says. "Being here, I'm questioning myself even more. I've never been a religious man. I didn't even know about religion until I was at the monastery."

Dimitri chuckles. "It's still so hard for me to believe that. Your father really sheltered you from the world."

"I think it was to keep me safe," Byleth murmurs. "I don't really blame him for it."

"You said you were questioning yourself more after coming here. Why is that?"

Byleth purses his lips tight. He shifts himself so that he can look at Dimitri, resting his chin on the larger man's broad chest. Dimitri hopes that the heat in his cheeks isn't visible.

"Because I..." Byleth bites his tongue.

Don't say it, Byleth's mind hisses at him. You can't be selfish. You can't put this on him.

"I think it's just something I have to sort out by myself."

Dimitri doesn't appear satisfied with that answer, but he nods nonetheless, continuing to stroke Byleth's hair when he turns his face away from him. Byleth nuzzles his cheek into Dimitri's chest, a content sigh falling from his lips.

This is all they can ever be. Perhaps even this, the comfort and joy of laying in his unrequited lover's arms, is asking too much of Byleth. The king will surely soon find a wife, and this will be nothing more than a distant memory, to be soon forgotten.

The dissonant silence between them is deafening.

"Um... Byleth?"

Byleth jolts slightly. "Yeah?"

Dimitri gulps. "Not that I'm complaining, but is there a reason you are cuddled up to me?"

"Oh." Byleth hadn't thought much about it when he glued himself to Dimitri's side—it was just a natural instinct. "I dunno. You're warm."

The desperate desire of kissing the top of Byleth's head pierces through his chest like an arrow. For this reserved, quiet man to somehow be so openly handsy with Dimitri—surely the Goddess is laughing down at him for his foolish, weak heart. Ironic, for him to be so incredibly touch-starved, yet when he receives any sort of affection, he feels as if he should push it away; a man undeserving of the love he so desperately yearns for.

"I can move." Byleth frowns up at him. "Sorry. I guess I didn't realize it's weird."

"No, no!" Dimitri quickly holds his arm around Byleth's back, firmly holding him in place. "I don't mind it. You're like a cat seeking warmth."

That much is true. Byleth does have a habit of going wherever the warmth is strongest. It's been this way since he lived as a mercenary with Jeralt—Byleth could not fall asleep if he wasn't sleeping next to his father. It became a force of habit.

Byleth's face finds its way to the crook of Dimitri's neck, where he sleepily buries it in. Dimitri closes his tired eye, sighing softly as he rests his chin against Byleth's soft hair. Smells like dirt, Dimitri notes. He isn't sure if it's a good or bad smell, but it's so uniquely Byleth that it doesn't matter either way.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but when Byleth slowly wakes up, Dimitri is no longer next to him. A might yawn pours out of his mouth as he fumbles out of bed, bumps into the wall, and slouches against it until his eyes decide it's finally time to be awake.

Strong sunlight filters in through the window, so it still must be early. Dimitri must have had a meeting to attend; Byleth understands, of course. He's a little surprised that the king felt comfortable enough to leave the archbishop sleeping in his bed, however, where a maid could have walked in and seen him there.

Alright, his mind finally feels awake enough to move. He waddles out of the room, closing the door behind him, then looks around the hallway aimlessly. Shit, he still doesn't know his way around the castle yet. He knows how to get to his guest room from the front entrance, but... That's about it.

The amount of paintings adorning the castle's walls are brilliant. As Byleth makes his way down the hall, he stops for a few minutes at every painting, examining them all in detail.

This particular row of paintings showcases the Blaiddyd bloodline throughout the years. They all share striking resemblances with each other, the fathers always bearing blonde hair and blue eyes.

When he reaches the most recent painting, his eyes immediately land on the extravagant portrait of Dimitri's father. Striking blue eyes, slicked back blonde hair, a strong jawline—Gods, Dimitri looks so much like him now, it's almost scary. Byleth considers for a moment how Dimitri would look with that same beard.

"Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd," Byleth reads off the plaque under the portrait. "Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd..."

A portrait of young Dimitri, no older than presumably seven years old, stands alongside his father. There is no woman to be seen in this painting—could it have been made before Patricia came into the picture?

Byleth holds a hand out, tracing his fingers along Dimitri's portrait. A time before the poor young prince knew of heartbreak, betrayal, damnation, the tragic reality of death. He can't help but let out a sad sigh, seeing the innocent smile on this portrait's face.

"Are you lost?"

Byleth visibly jumps when the voice comes from behind him. He whips around, his mercenary instincts telling him to fight the intruder for sneaking up on him—his fist is swiftly caught in Felix's palm, however, who looks just as surprised as Byleth does.

"As sharp as ever, I see." Felix gives his old professor a proud smile. "That's good. I would have been mad if you'd let me sneak up on you like th— Hey!"

Felix lets out an ear piercing shriek as Byleth flings himself at him, forcing him into a hug. Felix fruitlessly attempts to push him off, but it's rendered useless, so he angrily decides to give in and pat Byleth's back.

"There," Felix hisses. "I acknowledged you. Now please let me go."

After admitting that he is in fact lost, Felix leads Byleth to the castle's council room. It's on the entirely opposite end of the castle; Byleth would have spent the entire day trying to find it. When they enter the room, Dimitri and Sylvain are sitting together, chatting over a warm cup of tea.

"It's easy as pie, Dimitri," Sylvain is in the middle of saying. "You take him by the hand, maybe kiss it. Look deep into his eyes... Actually, yeah, definitely kiss his hand. Then look into his eyes. And say—"

"Ahem." Felix clears his throat.

"Oh!" Sylvain laughs nonchalantly, while the king beside him looks ready to burst from embarrassment. "You didn't hear any of that, right?"

Byleth tips his head curiously. "We walked in on the easy as pie part."

"Sylvain was just telling me about a surefire way to win a politician's trust!" Dimitri says quickly.

"You're a terrible liar," Sylvain whispers.

"You kiss the politician on the hand?" Felix scoffs.

"What do you do after you stare into his eyes, then?" Byleth asks.

Sylvain, being the ever so helpful, kind, and caring friend that he is, can tell that this conversation topic needs to be changed immediately. He rises from his seat and strides up to Byleth, opening his arms for a hug.

"You haven't asked me how I'm doing yet, Professor!" Sylvain scolds. "That's not how you're supposed to greet your old student!"

"Oh!" Byleth, realizing the error of his ways, molds his body into Sylvain's. They both laugh, jubilant to see one another again.

"Great, hugs abound," Felix mumbles.

"Huh?" Sylvain gawks at Felix, then at Byleth. "Did Felix let you hug him, Professor? You're kidding. Felix doesn't even let me hug him!"

"Oh, shut up," Felix groans, his embarrassment flashing red on his cheeks. "I see you way more often than I see the professor."

Dimitri folds his arms, narrowing his eyes at the two. "Why do you still insist on calling him your professor, even after all this time?"

Sylvain considers calling him Byleth, but it doesn't feel right on his tongue. "Force of habit?" he suggests.

"I forgot his name," Felix says snidely.

Dimitri's eyes widen, laughing excitedly as he clasps his hands down onto Felix's shoulders. "Felix! Look at you, making jokes! This is wonderful!"

"I don't tell jokes!" Felix all but nearly screams as he turns around, violently swatting at his king's arms. "Stop touching me, you filthy boar! You'll crush my bones under those monstrous hands!"

"They get along so well," Sylvain says dreamily.

Byleth watches the scene play out before him, feeling as if he is an audience member in the country's finest opera. All that needs to happen next is Felix belting out a musical number.

"So, what have you guys been up to?" Byleth finally asks. "Wait, when did you two even get here?"

"Oh, my apologies, Byleth," Dimitri says. "They arrived around dawn to discuss a matter regarding a group of rebels in the Galatea region." With a small smile, he adds: "You looked so peaceful in your slumber, I did not want to wake you."

"You guys were sleeping togeth— Mmph?!"

Sylvain jumps over and covers Felix's mouth with his hand before he can finish that thought. Felix angrily defies him, wriggling like a disobedient gremlin under Sylvain's force. Damn him, for growing like a weed and leaving Felix to be the short, vulnerable one.

"That's where Ingrid is from," Byleth mumbles to himself. Then, to Dimitri, he says: "You said she left on a mission, didn't you? Is that where she's been?"

"Yes." Dimitri lowers his head in shame. "The rebels appear to be a group of Adrestrian stragglers. They want my head on a silver platter, so I've been told."

"Sounds familiar," Felix mutters.

"I don't think it's cause for much concern, honestly," Dimitri says, "and yet, knowing they are ravaging innocent towns, simply to rile me up..."

"Don't let them do exactly what they're trying to do, Your Highness," Sylvain says. "Don't worry about it! Me and Felix will hop on over there and tell 'em to cut it out."

"If anything, Ingrid will already have it sorted out by the time we get there." Felix smirks. "She's much more menacing than the four of us combined."

They all shudder in unison, knowing that statement to be a fact.

"Are you two leaving right away?" Byleth asks. "Can we talk some more before you go?"

"Our old professor, actually wanting to talk?" The shock is evident on Sylvain's face. "Well, slap me with a fish and call me tuna."

"What does that mean?" Felix asks through gritted teeth. "Sylvain, seriously, what the hell does that mean?"

The four settle on going to what is now the usual hangout area of Dimitri and Byleth—Ubert & Molinaro's. When Ashe sees the addition of Felix and Sylvain coming through the door, he's so beside himself that he starts tearing up in the middle of the store. Dedue lovingly rubs his fiancé's back.

"Now if only the girls were here with us," Dimitri notes. "Then the Blue Lions would be back together again."

"Wishful thinking," Sylvain says. "Mercedes told me she was going to propose to Annette before she left."

"What?!" Ashe's mouth gapes open. "Oh, I'm dying to know if Annette said yes! She's a teacher at the Royal School of Sorcery, isn't she? Can't we send her a letter?"

"So eager," Felix grumbles. "Well, I'm certain she said yes. You know how many songs she sang about Mercedes to me? Too many to count."

"I remember at least five songs," Dedue says helpfully.

During this entire conversation, Byleth's eyes are fixated on Sylvain's and Felix's hands—more specifically, their fingers. Felix wears a silver band on his ring finger, whereas Sylvain boasts a shimmering gold band on his.

"Are you guys married?" Byleth suddenly interrupts.

Sylvain and Felix both stop midsentence to stare at Byleth. Felix, suddenly bashful, places a hand over his ring finger; Sylvain laughs fondly at the action, scooting his chair closer to Felix and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"I guess we never got a chance to tell you, huh?" Sylvain flashes his ring proudly. "Yeah, we got hitched! We're madly in love with each other, right, honey?"

Sylvain leans in for a kiss, much to Felix's chagrin. He groans, pushing Sylvain's face away. "Not in front of everyone," he reminds him.

"Oh, of course, silly me, wanting to kiss my husband in public!" Sylvain pouts.

Felix groans as if it's the end of the world before placing a small kiss to Sylvain's cheek. Everyone at the table lets out a cooing awww, causing Felix to grip his fork threateningly.

"Everyone's off getting married..." Byleth's eyes appear to be watery. "I feel like a proud parent or something. Is this how parents feel?"

Dimitri steeples his hands and laughs. "I feel the same way, Byleth. As if we are proud parents, watching our children run off and become adults."

Sylvain flashes Dimitri the most devious grin to ever exist. The weight of Dimitri's words hit him like an erupting volcano—why did he say that? Why in the absolute hell did he say something like that out loud, and not expect to receive repercussion for it?

"You and the professor are our dads, huh?" Sylvain quips. "Hey, how does that work if I'm older than you?"

"Please don't think too deeply about it," Dimitri begs.

"Oh, I'm thinking about it." Sylvain rhythmically taps his fingers on the table. "Professor. Have you ever thought about marriage?"

Byleth glances at Dimitri for only half a second, but in that same timeframe, Dimitri had looked at him, too. They both turn their heads quickly in the opposite direction. Sylvain's shit-eating grin only gets worse after that exchange.

"I haven't had time to think about it," Byleth says.

"I see, I see," Sylvain rubs his chin. "And you, Your Royal Highness? When are you finally gonna settle down with a special someone?"

Ashe feels a little guilty for joining in on the fun, but he can hardly help himself. "Yes, Your Highness! Surely there's someone you have eyes for."

The teacup in Dimitri's hands shatters. Dedue quickly jumps to his feet to clean up the broken ceramic; Byleth gasps and grabs Dimitri's hands, making sure he didn't cut himself—this only causes Dimitri to panic more. He flinches out of Byleth's grasp so fast that he knocks a plate off the table, which then breaks apart as soon as it hits the floor.

"Oh, no!!" Ashe stares at the remnants of his expensive tableware in despair.

"I'm—" Dimitri stands up, away from anything else he could possibly destroy. "I'll pay for that! I promise! I'm so sorry!"

"Reckless fool," Felix chastises him.

"Please do not tease him any further," Dedue pleads, sweeping up the broken glass on the floor.

Sylvain and Felix depart to Galatea after finishing their meals. After warm hugs and goodbyes, everyone promises to meet up again soon. Even Felix, with an eternal stick up his ass, looked upset to have to be leaving already. His hug for Byleth lasted much longer than usual.

Sylvain had whispered something into Dimitri's ear before leaving, then gave Byleth a sharp smile before he took off on horseback with his husband. Whatever he had said, Dimitri reacted unusually to it, hiding half of his flushed face beneath a hand.

Dimitri has been looking flushed a lot lately, Byleth notices. Maybe he's coming down with a cold.

When they return to the castle, Dimitri is quickly swept away by Gustave to talk about political matters. He frowns apologetically at Byleth before making his way to the council room.

Hours pass. Byleth is so bored that he's started counting the tiles on the floor of the entrance hall. He's at two hundred and fifty-three before Alois steps in front of him and makes him lose count.

"I got us matching t-shirts, son!" he declares proudly.

After putting on their respective shirts (Byleth's shirt donning the words 'If lost, return to dad'; Alois's saying 'I'm dad'), they make their way to the dining hall to share a cup of tea together. The amount of compliments they receive on their shirts along the way has Alois brimming with joy.

"We haven't seen much of each other since we got here, have we!" Alois takes a hearty gulp of his tea.

"I guess you're right." Byleth mimics Alois, slurping his tea with gusto. "I dragged you here and then ignored you the entire time."

"Nonsense, my boy!" Alois gives Byleth's back a firm pat. "I can entertain myself plenty. Why, just yesterday, I went into the barber shop in town. When the woman asked if I'd like a haircut, I said, 'No, I'd like them all cut!'"

"..." Byleth looks away and sips his tea.

"Did you hear me?" Alois says it louder this time. "I'd like them all cut, I said!"

"I heard you," Byleth mumbles.

One of these days, Alois is positively determined on this thought, he will get Byleth to laugh at one of his jokes. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, maybe not even until five years from now, but he will laugh, and it will be the most delicious victory of them all.

"Well, anyway." Alois sighs as he pulls a letter out of his pocket. "I was hoping to soften the blow of this with that joke, but it seems it can't be helped. Seteth requested us to return to the monastery by tomorrow morning."

Byleth frowns, taking the letter from Alois and reading over it quickly. His heart sinks to his feet. "This definitely sounds more like Seteth," he says sadly. "Why do some nobles want to meet with me? I don't understand."

"Have you forgotten you're the archbishop now?" Alois laughs. "I'd wager they want to use your high stature for some political regime."

Byleth grumbles something under his breath. Political nonsense that always flies right over his head. Seteth is the brains of their operation, truly—Byleth usually ends up making a complete ass of himself when meeting with nobles, and Seteth has to quickly jump in and save the day.

Thinking on that, Byleth almost feels guilty. He certainly hasn't made things easy on Seteth, especially now, with his spur-of-the-moment vacation.

Alois places a sympathetic hand on Byleth's shoulder. "I'm sorry, kiddo. Looks like we really don't have a choice. Go spend the rest of the day with the king, alright? I'll pick you up in the morning."

He gives Byleth one more affirmative pat before leaving Byleth to himself.

Byleth stares at his reflection in the tea. He came to Fhirdiad, seeking answers, yet he's more torn than ever before. It may have been a mistake to come here, he decides. He wanted to see Dimitri. He thought that maybe if he saw Dimitri's face, he'd be at peace, and could continue on normally, as if magically cured from this rut he's been stuck in for six months.

Idiotic, truly, to think that being around the king of Faerghus, the man he's so stupidly in love with, would change any of his doubts. Did he think Dimitri would sweep him off his feet, take away all of his troubles and worries? That he'd kiss him passionately, ask him to marry him, to live with him at the castle?

Fate brought them together, but she is a cruel mistress, severing their ties with a bloodied dagger. They cannot go any further than this—doomed to live separate lives as a king and an archbishop.

"Why, though?" Byleth murmurs to himself.

He wonders, is there any truth to that? Is there even any reason why they still couldn't be together? Perhaps it is simply Byleth's fears and insecurities clouding his judgment, coming up with false excuses as to why they are destined to never be together.

Byleth's head hurts. He hates thinking this hard. He prefers it much better when his head is filled with empty thoughts of fishing or petting cats.

What has he been afraid of this whole time, he wonders? He can hardly even remember anymore. It isn't in his nature to second guess everything. Byleth is Byleth, living a casual, carefree life, circumstances be damned.

A newfound fire sparks inside of his heart. If he has to leave in the morning, then so be it. He's going to leave without any regrets. Why should the benevolent archbishop be afraid of anything, anyway?

Dimitri is still in a council when Byleth goes searching for him. Alright, that's fine—he can wait. He's waited his entire life, so he can wait a little longer. He scrawls out a note and shoves it under the door.

Meet me at the courtyard. -Byleth

As it turns out, the courtyard wasn't the best location to pick from. The snow is coming down hard, and Byleth's teeth are incessantly chattering away. He considers that he might die here, doomed to become a human popsicle, until a warm coat is placed over his shoulders, followed by an even warmer body wrapping around him.

"You're shaking!" Dimitri cries. "Byleth, you should have waited inside. I know you hate the cold, you poor th—"

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Byleth cuts him off. "Seteth needs me back at the monastery."

Dimitri gasps, pulling himself away from Byleth. The archbishop looks up at him with a deep frown, holding the coat to his body like he'll die without it.

"Let's talk about this inside, Byleth." Dimitri takes his hand. "You're going to freeze to death."

"I can't," Byleth says. "I can't wait any longer. I've been waiting for so long."

Dimitri stares at him, desperately searching his face for clues as to what he could possibly be talking about. Byleth inhales the cold air so sharply that it physically hurts.

"Remember when I said I came here because I was questioning myself?" When Dimitri nods, Byleth continues: "I think I finally figured it out. I was angry at my position as the archbishop because that meant I couldn't be with you. I kept rejecting everything because all I wanted was to be with you."

Dimitri's eye widens in confusion. "Byleth—"

"But why?" Byleth asks. "Why did I think I couldn't be with you? Does it really matter? Should we let our positions of power influence who we can be with? I didn't listen to Lorenz drone on about finding a perfect noblewoman to bear him a suitable heir for hours every day, only for him to run off with Claude—"

"Byleth!" Dimitri cries out desperately. "Good heavens, what are you saying?!"

"I'm in love with you," Byleth says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "I had to tell you. At least once."

Dimitri is certain he must have heard wrong. Is there snow stuck in his ears? Has the cold rendered his brain useless? He must be on his ascent to heaven right now, soon to meet with the Goddess at the pearly gates.

"Um..." Byleth shivers miserably. "Actually, I'm going to go inside now...it's cold."

Dimitri stands there, stupidly, completely dumbfounded, as Byleth waddles back towards the castle. "You love me?" Dimitri whispers. "You... All this time, you...?"

And he starts laughing, like a crazed madman. He holds his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he completely loses control of his composure. Byleth slowly turns around, wondering if he's made some sort of grave mistake until before he knows it, Dimitri runs up to him and lifts him into his arms. Byleth lets out a harsh squeal as he's shoved up against Dimitri's chest, and they spin, spin, spin in circles, Dimitri still unable to stop himself from laughing.

"You love me!" Dimitri yells it for all of the world to hear. "Byleth Eisner loves me!"

"Dimitri—" Byleth chokes miserably. "I can't breathe—"

Dimitri immediately drops Byleth into the snow with a thunk. Byleth groans, rubbing his now cold ass, pouting up at the cruel man he just poured his heart out to. Dimitri gasps and kneels down next to him, hovering his hands all around Byleth's body, unsure of where to touch him.

"Are you alright?!" Dimitri's hands eventually find a home on Byleth's shoulders. "I'm so sor—"

Byleth tugs on Dimitri's collar and pulls him into a fervent kiss. Dimitri surges forward from shock, breaking their lips apart and knocking Byleth's head back into the snow. Before Dimitri can apologize once more, Byleth starts laughing, a laugh so harmoniously sweet that Dimitri starts bawling right on the spot.

"Dimitri, always crying," Byleth says, bringing a hand up to Dimitri's cheek. "You don't have to cry."

Dimitri places his hand over Byleth's. "I don't deserve you," he says, as softly as a whisper. "I do not deserve your love, your kindness, your warmth. But now that I have it, I'm never letting it go. I love you, Byleth."

They giggle like schoolgirls, kissing each other once more as if their lives depend on it, like it's the tonic to their lovesick disease.

"I can't feel my skin," Byleth says, between kisses. "I might be going into hypothermic shock, or dying."

"You can't die on me now, beloved. Let's warm up in my bed."

The unintentional implication leaves Dimitri redfaced and avoiding eye contact, yet Byleth seems completely unaffected, curious as to why Dimitri is suddenly so embarrassed.

Gustave is less than ecstatic when Dimitri wakes him up at two in the morning to inform him that his bedframe has mysteriously snapped in half.

Byleth has no motivation to get out of bed when dawn comes. The guest bed is so small that Byleth had to sleep on top of Dimitri. His chest makes a good pillow, but Byleth already knew that.

Dimitri gives him a tender good morning kiss. Byleth whines—he already doesn't want to leave, but this only makes things worse. He wants nothing more than to lay in bed with his lover for the rest of his life. Can kings work from bed? Archbishops can surely give sermons from bed.

"I have to pack," Byleth murmurs.

Dimitri holds Byleth's cheek in his hand. Byleth careens into the touch, happily sighing as he nuzzles his hand like a cat. The action leaves Dimitri blushing terribly.

"Am I allowed to be this happy?" Dimitri whispers, gazing intently into Byleth's eyes. "I feel as if I'm in a dream."

Byleth frowns sadly. He grips Dimitri's hair and pushes their foreheads together. "I have to pack," he says once more. "I love you."

Despite that, the two are still in bed when Alois knocks on the door. He lets out a surprised scream upon seeing the naked couple together, quickly covering his eyes and closing the door, shouting nonstop apologies for intruding on his son's privacy.

Byleth awkwardly shuffles out of the room, bag slung over his shoulder; Dimitri is in tow, his face so flushed that he looks ill. He avoids eye contact with Alois as he nervously scratches the back of his head.

"Sorry," Dimitri says quietly. "I'm sorry that you saw my, uh, my pe—"

"I didn't see a thing!" Alois cuts in quickly. "Absolutely not a single thing! Let's forget that ever even happened!"

They make their way to the stables to ready their horses for the trip. Dimitri stays glued to Byleth's side, more loyal than his own shadow. He wraps his arms around Byleth's waist and whines like a kicked puppy.

"Write to me as soon as you are back at the monastery," Dimitri pleads. "As soon as you possibly can, so that I know you're alright."

"I'll be fine, Dimitri." Byleth kisses under Dimitri's chin. "I love you."

"I love you more," Dimitri insists. "So much more. More than you could ever imagine."

"Is this a competition?" Byleth pouts his bottom lip. "You will not win if this is a competition. I will beat you."

Dimitri places a kiss to the top of Byleth's head. "If you are threatening me, my beloved, that only makes me want to win even more. I will not go easy on you."

"Is this how kids romance each other these days?" Alois asks himself. "Let's get going, kid. I'm missing my wife after watching you two be all lovey dovey with each other."

Byleth buries his face into Dimitri's chest as they squeeze each other tight. Neither one wants to let go, but Byleth finally concedes, slowly backing himself away from Dimitri. He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, hoping no one notices the tears welling up.

"Don't cry," Dimitri says. "I want to see your beautiful smile before you leave."

Byleth shakes his head with a groan. Why does this have to be so damned hard? Do those nobles really need to have an audience with him that badly? It better be fucking important, whatever it is they have to say, for ruining his whole trip.

Dimitri stares at Byleth, frowning, a misty, far away look in his eye. His heart aches so badly that it feels like his chest is going to collapse. They give each other one final kiss before Byleth saddles up on his horse.

"Sorry, you two," Alois says, as genuinely as he can. He starts to sniffle then wipes at his nose. "This is so sad... Two lovers, finally reunited, now having to be separated from one another..."

"Have you been reading romance novels the whole time you were here...?" Byleth asks. When he turns to Dimitri, he's beginning to cry, as well. "No! You're the one that told me not to cry!"

"I-I cannot help it," Dimitri whimpers. "I— I don't when I'll see you again, and it's making me—"

Byleth jumps off the horse, stumbling into Dimitri's arms. Dimitri holds him close, burying his nose into that soft green hair.

"I lost you for five years," Dimitri whispers. "When I got you back, I swore I'd never lose you again. These six months have felt like hell without you, Byleth. You make me whole again."

Byleth shivers in Dimitri's arms. "I love you," is all he can muster in response.

"Marry me."

Slowly, as if frozen in place, Byleth looks up with widened eyes. Dimitri smiles down at him with all the love and adoration in the universe.

"Cutting to the chase, huh?" Alois says in shock.

"Shut— Shut up!" Byleth waves his hands at Alois angrily before turning to face Dimitri again, who only laughs, sweet as a summer day, in response.

"Marry me, Byleth," he says again.

"When?" Byleth asks frantically. "Did you not notice that I'm kind of leaving right now?!"

"I don't care when, or where." Dimitri pulls a ring out of his pocket, the silver glistening against the sunlight. "As long as I know you want to marry me, I don't care how long it takes."

"When did you grab that?" Byleth asks, staring wide eyed at the ring. "We were in the guest room, I—"

"Byleth."

"D-did you bring it with you? After I confessed to you? You—"

"Byleth, please!" Dimitri clutches the ring. "I can live with the rejection if you don't want to. I just need an answer."

Byleth ruffles through his bag for a moment before slowly pulling out the ring gifted to him by Jeralt. He holds it up to Dimitri, a bright, childlike smile taking over his lips when the king's eye practically bulges out of his head.

"I love you, Dimitri," Byleth says, a twinkle in his eyes. "Marry me."

Dimitri lifts Byleth up off the ground, both of them laughing with plenty of crying mixed in. Alois can no longer handle simply being a bystander and rushes into the hug, squeezing the two men so tight that even Dimitri begs for him to stop before they both choke.

Byleth and Alois depart soon after. The entire trek back to the monastery, Byleth stares affectionately at the ring on his finger, his emotionless heart now filled to the brim with an endless supply of adoration. Every time the light glints off his ring, he thinks about Dimitri, and how he already cannot wait to see him again.

Seteth is a little more than peeved when the archbishop returns, now suddenly engaged, no less to the king of Faerghus. Much to Byleth's own surprise, however, he is unusually accommodating of the situation—after he lectures Byleth for hours on end about disappearing with hardly any warning, that is.

It also might have helped that Byleth got Flayn a souvenir. The smile on her face as she pressed the button on the singing fish plaque seemed to brighten up Seteth's day.

Months pass before Byleth and Dimitri can see one another again, but the letters they send each other fill in the gap. While still unsure of his position as the archbishop, Byleth stands a little more confidently now. He's learned to do things his own way, unconcerned with trying to follow in Rhea's footsteps. The ring on his finger gets him through the toughest of days.

He bargains with Seteth one day. Byleth opens up the prospect of working from a church in Fhirdiad, so he could be with his fiancé and finally get married. Seteth is hesitant to comply, at first, as he always is; Byleth is, however, incredibly persuasive.

Within a year, Byleth is relocated to the Kingdom Capital of Fhirdiad. Seteth keeps his post at Garreg Mach Monastery, working as a bishop in Byleth's service. With the cunning argument of Fhirdiad being more widely populated than the area of Garreg Mach Monastery, Seteth allowed Byleth to work in the church at the capital.

In truth, Byleth hadn't needed to come up with any sort of argument to convince Seteth to let him leave; he knows how it feels to be young and in love. Seteth would never in his life admit that to Byleth, but Flayn may have let the cat out of the bag when she and Seteth came to attend his and Dimitri's wedding day.

Byleth's teachings of the goddess Sothis become renowned across the continent. He is most benevolent in his sermons, if not incredibly easygoing. The most important thing to him is to never make anyone feel forced into believing in any type of religion. He simply preaches what he believes to be true, and lets every person decide their own faith of their own merit.

Dimitri becomes a steadfast ruler with his husband Byleth by his side. He had briefly wondered if Byleth should be referred to as his queen, but, quickly being shut down by that suggestion, the two simply become known as the Kings of Faerghus, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and Byleth Eisner-Blaiddyd.

10 YEARS LATER.

"El, slow doooown!"

The blonde boy trips over a tree branch and falls to the ground, earning himself a mouth full of dirt and leaves. He gags as he spits it out of his mouth, then looks up at the little girl running ahead of him.

"We're not supposed to be in here!" he cries after her, jumping to his feet. "Dad is going to be so furious with us!"

"Which dad?" The blonde girl comes to a halt and turns around, sticking her tongue out at the boy. "They won't get mad if they don't catch us!"

"If who doesn't catch you?"

The two kids blow up with ungodly screams when the unexpected voice shakes them to their very core. The girl lets out the most relieved, exasperated sigh when she turns around and sees the figure standing behind her.

"Jeralt, you scared the wits out of me," she cries.

"Maybe you shouldn't be running through the forest, then?" The taller, blue haired boy crosses his arms. "And dragging poor Lambert into this."

"El said we were gonna get candy," Lambert says meekly. "This isn't the candy store."

Jeralt walks up to his little brother and wipes some lingering dirt off from his cheek. "You're absolutely right, Lambert," he says, narrowing his eyes at El. "This isn't the candy store."

"What are you doing here, then?" El asks Jeralt, defiantly placing her hands on her hips.

"I came to get you two, duh." Jeralt takes the twins by either hand, ignoring El's annoyed grumbling. "There's ghosts in here at night, you know!"

"Gh-ghosts?" Lambert squeezes Jeralt's hand tighter.

"Goblins and ghouls," Jeralt presses on. "Witches that'll collect your eyeballs! Big scary wolves that'll gnaw on your bones—"

A low howl causes the three to stop in their tracks. They look around, hearts beating in their throats. The twins cling to Jeralt's arm and can barely contain their muffled cries as they bury their faces into his shoulder.

"Don't make a sound," Jeralt whispers, shaking himself free of his siblings. He holds a finger up to his lips as he draws a dagger from his belt. "Stay next to me. Do not wander off."

El and Lambert bite their lips and nod. The three of them slowly shuffle through the forest, the younger two jumping at every little noise. Jeralt's heart feels ready to burst any second, and with the sun beginning to set, panic settles in, but they're so close to the exit that he can practically taste it—

Something causes the bush to their right to shake. Jeralt holds a protective arm out in front of his siblings as they shriek and hide behind him. It growls, a heavy, hungry growl, before its massive figure prowls out from the bush and saunters its way towards them.

His father had warned him of the beasts residing in the forest, but Jeralt had no idea they were this terrifying. The wolf looms over him, drool seeping from its gargantuan mouth, baring its pointed fangs.

The twins know better than to scream right now. They can only stand there, soaked in pure terror as the wolf maps them out, mulling over which child will make the best appetizer before moving onto dinner, then dessert.

"On the count of three," Jeralt whispers, "I need you guys to run. As fast as you can."

"But—"

"One," Jeralt insists.

The wolf appears agitated by their voices. It growls once more and digs its claws into the ground.

"Two."

It lowers itself to the ground. It's ready to pounce any second now. Those soulless eyes stare straight into Lambert, and fuck, Jeralt knows it. Such a meek boy is easy prey to a cowardice wolf.

"Three!"

Jeralt pushes Lambert out of the way and takes his place. The wolf jumps at him, a piercing howl filling the forest as Jeralt is pinned to the ground. He jabs his dagger into the wolf's cheek, over and over again, effortlessly struggling to get out from under the creature's body.

El and Lambert didn't run. They both scream as their tiny balled up fists punch hopelessly at the wolf. The beast, with blood gushing out from the wound on its cheek, turns around and slashes viciously at El, who lets out a horrified sob as she just narrowly escapes being gored.

"You were supposed to run!" Jeralt cries desperately. "Run, run, please, run—"

The wolf lunges at El, and she closes her eyes with a scream, fully expecting to assume her fate. Instead, she hears an anguished whimper from the wolf—when she reopens her eyes, she sees the figure of a tall, blonde man in front of her, gutting the wolf with his lance. A green haired man runs past him, quickly scooping the children up into his arms.

El and Lambert peer over their father's shoulders, watching as their other father mercilessly pierces into the giant beast, blood and organs splattering across the peaceful greenery of the forest.

Byleth doesn't stop running until they're miles away from the forest, back near the castle. He's raggedly out of breath as he hunches over, panting; El, Lambert and Jeralt slowly climb off of him to let him breathe.

"You guys—" Byleth wipes sweat off his brow. "When'd you get so heavy?"

El starts sobbing. Full on sobbing, snot dripping down her nose, drool and everything. Byleth quickly kneels down and pulls her into a tight hug, followed by the now also sobbing Lambert and Jeralt joining in on the hug.

"I-it was m-my f-fault," El cries. "If I hadn't g-gone in the f-forest—"

"Shh, shh, shh." Byleth rubs El's back and kisses the top of her head. "Daddy's got you, honey."

The sound of incoming footsteps causes them all to look up. A bloodied Dimitri runs up to them, throwing his lance to the ground as he falls to his knees and embraces his husband and children. He appears to be crying just as hard as the kids.

"Don't you ever—" Dimitri chokes between his words, "ever, ever, scare us like that again!"

Byleth and Dimitri both stand up, grasping each other's hands. Their three children frown up at them, continuing to sniffle and sob, the twins holding onto Jeralt like a lifeline.

"I don't know what I'd do if we ever lost you three," Dimitri says. "You have got to listen to us. You cannot wander off and do whatever you please!"

"I'm sorry," Jeralt apologizes.

"Me too," Lambert murmurs. "I'm sorry."

El gawks at her two brothers. "Don't apologize!" she yells. "It wasn't either of your faults! You were trying to protect me!"

Dimitri scoops his only daughter up into his arms. Just the sight of the wolf's blood smeared across his face is enough to make her start crying again. She buries herself into the crook of his neck, wetting his skin with her tears.

"I love you, my princess," he says softly into her hair.

"I'm sorry," El whimpers. "I love you, daddy. I'm s-sorry."

Byleth takes his two sons by the hands, leading them back towards the castle. "How about we ask Uncle Dedue to fix us up some tasty snacks?" Byleth suggests.

Lambert's eyes sparkle as he smiles up at his father. "Oh! Oh, oh! I want the yummy cinnamon buns he makes!"

"Can Papa Alois finish his story about the cheese wheel?" Jeralt asks.

"Cheese...wheel?" Byleth repeats. "I think you spend too much time around your grandpa, Jeralt."

"Because he's grate!" Jeralt says proudly.

The joke flies over Byleth's head. Dimitri, however, is howling with laughter, along with El, who's shaking in his arms, trying not to let herself laugh.

"Get it, dad?" Jeralt beams up at Byleth. "What about you, Lambert?"

"I don't get it," Lambert whispers.

"You know, grate!" Jeralt throws his arms into the air. "You grate cheese! He was telling a story about a cheese wheel!"

"Oh!" Lambert pretends to laugh. "Oh, wow, funny."

Dimitri turns around and smiles at his husband, who returns the smile with just as much love behind it. Dimitri props El up with one hand, then reaches for Byleth's hand, kissing him softly on the cheek.

"Gross," their children all say in unison.