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Chapter Text

You had been on foot for quite some time now, leaving you weary. Terribly, terribly weary. A few days back you had encountered some Frauldarius soldiers, wounded by some Dukedom troops. You did what you could for them, including using what magic you knew, but you knew they needed to get back to friendly territory quickly to actually recover. You gave them your horse, and sent them on their way. You had been walking since then. You don’t regret your decision, not at all. You were proudly allied with those that still served the rightful kingdom - this was simply contributing to the cause. This entire trip was in the name of that cause.

Though you did not regret giving up your transportation, it was fair to recognize that it was causing you some unwarranted hardship. Strenuous, and continuous physical activity was not your strong suit. You would be hard pressed to say walking was either. Not to say that you aren’t capable - far from it, but... Your work was mostly done sitting down. Perhaps it was for the best that you physically wore yourself down now. You were going to be doing a lot of sit down work soon - being tired would make you grateful that your work didn’t require exertion - it would encourage you to keep at it, not get bored of it, get it done sooner. The sooner the better...

Perhaps it wasn’t a good thing though. With the moon so full you could see your destination in the distance. The ruins of Garreg Mach Monastery. You could probably make it by sunrise, if your pace stayed steady. But you were tired... so, so, so tired. And sore. And your guard was low. Not dropped or anything. You were in disputed territory, you knew better than to relax, but you just weren’t as alert as you should have been. 

It took a lot of restraint not to scream when you realized you were about to walk into someone’s camp. You did your best to quietly throw yourself behind a tree, away from the light of the fire they were keeping. No civilian in their right mind would have a fire that large in this territory. One probably could have seen the smoke for miles, but you weren’t paying attention. Their lack of stealth meant one of two things. They were Imperials, or they were bandits that the Imperials has been... persuaded to ignore. 

You tugged the hood of your dark cloak further around your face to create some shadow, before you steeled your nerves and looked around the tree at the group around the campfire. Unforeseen third option: It was Imperials, and bandits that they had been persuaded to ignore having a parlay. And you were feet away from crashing the party.

Well. Shit .

There were at least five of them - four soldiers and one bandit, huddled around the fire, but their were a few tents pitched nearby, and who knows how many tucked away in the ruins of whatever building they were in front of. You could make out one or two more bandits, sitting in crumbling parapets with their legs over the side. This was... a very bad place to be. It’s not like you had anything you could give them to let you go on your way unharmed. You needed everything you had on you. Your cloak and clothing were the only thing standing between you and the elements. The meager sum of gold you had on you was to get food and supplies in the villages near the monastery. The pages in your satchel were notes on reason and faith - medical treatise - things these buffoons would have no chance of understanding, in terms of knowledge, and of importance. And lastly the rapier tethered to your hip. It was clear to see that it was going to break soon, no good to them. Not too mention, it was sentimental to you. That and in a one on one fight, you could threaten to draw it to guard, which was a great deterrent in that situation. Not so much in this one. This would have been at least a six on one - bad odds.

Who you could guess to be the leader of the bandits, a curly haired brunette who looked like they hadn’t washed themselves once in their life was ranting incessantly to the imperials, “The way these bodies were- horrific, just horrific! Like a beast had done it!”

“And what do you expect us to do about it?” One of the soldiers shot back, munching on a piece of whatever they were roasting on the fire. Not much you could tell about him, with his back to you, but given his tone, he was in charge.

The bandit paced back and forth, clearly rattled. “It was more than a beast I tell ya! Sure there was the body wounds, but their fingers - all ten of em’ with the bones shattered. Beasts don’t do that to three different people-“

“Are you saying they were tortured?” The same soldier cut in.

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’!” The bandit pointed a filthy hand down at the soldier, apparently happy he understood, though he quickly turned grave. “Somethin’ or someone has been torturin’ my boys before they’re butchered.”

“I’ll ask again, what do you expect us to do?” Judging by the arrogance, this soldier seemed to be in charge of more than just the troops beside him. “We patrol the area for insurrection, not for monsters. That’s the locals problem.”

“Oh so ye’ll wait for the damn thing to come for you, and then ye’ll deal with it?!” ‘Ye’ll?’ What the fuck is ‘ye’ll?’ It was a mean assumption to make, but you were fairly sure this man didn’t have much schooling. Does he mean ‘you will?’

“Probably.” The Imperial shrugged.

“I don’t think ya empire boys know what you’re in for.” The unwashed man crossed his arms impatiently. “Scouts are thinking it’s the One-Eyed Demon.”

“Just a rumor.” Another Imperial around the fire scoffed.

“A rumor targettin’ you empire folk.” The bandit finally sat down, grabbing something from the roast, his rant finished. “Alls I’m sayin’ is- is that trackin’ this thing down’ll help us both.” 

Well this sucked! There was apparently a demon around too - super! You came back around the tree, hiding from them once more. Seeing as they were going to settle in to eat, this seemed like a great time to avoid them, this demon thing, and get to the monastery in one piece!

*snap.* 

Have you ever noticed that the quieter you try to do something, the louder it is? That stick you had just stepped on trying to move away had a different plan than you did, apparently. Why has Seiros forsaken me?

You could hear the shriek of metal against metal, and you knew someone had instinctively drawn their blade. You stood stock still - not risking making more noise or being seen.

“You there!” The Imperial leader barked. “We can see your cloak, come into the light!”

Fuck. You made no movement, hoping against hope that he was bluffing about seeing something.

“I said, into the light! Now!”

Fuck! He definitely could see you.

New plan. Minimize your threat level. You pulled back the hood of your cloak, and reveal yourself, before shakily poking your head from around the tree. “Apologies, good sir, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“A woman?” Another Imperial. He sounded surprised.

“More like a girl.” The leader corrected him.

You suppressed an eye roll. You were in your early twenties - hardly a girl. Although this misinterpretation of your girlish face might work to your favor. These men might be less inclined to attack a younger lady. The bandit leader was on edge, clearly - he’d jumped up and drawn an iron sword. Time to get into character... You clasped your hands in front of your heart, showing you had no weapons primed, and making you look rather demure. It also had the added bonus of making your cloak wrap more around you, hiding your bag, and your weapon. “I-I do not mean to intrude. When I saw your fire, I was frightened - there are so many unkind people in these woods.” You hoped they would buy that excuse.

“What's a maid like yourself doing round’ here?” The unwashed bandit asked with his thick drawl. He began to saunter past the Imperials.

“I’m off to scavenge the monastery for medicinal supplies. There is a sickness moving through the countryside, and the villages have nothing to treat it with.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. You began to step diagonally, into the view of the imperials, and towards the light, but away from the bandit. He hadn’t sheathed the blade yet. It was a gamble, but you figured the soldiers wouldn’t want to tarnish their pure, most noble reputations in the service of her majesty by letting some walking fleabag hurt a maiden in front of them. “If there is anything still there, we may be able to save a few small folk from departing from this world too soon.” You were trying not to retch from your false soft tone and speech - build those pity points up so they would let you go already. You could be flowery and wordy on occasion, but this was just ridiculous and you weren’t even sure it was working. Come on, you stupid oaf, think of the children!

“Well, well, hows’ bout’ you keep us company for the night, and in the morning we’ll get you there nice and safe.” He shot you a snaggle toothed grin front across the fire, the glow illuminating a wicked face plastered with scars. This man had been in his fair share a fights, it seemed.

“That won’t be necessary, good sir, if I keep going I can make it by daybreak. There is not a moment to lose when it comes to-“

“No, no, miss, we insist - lots of bandits round’ these parts. We wouldn’t want nothin’ happenin’ to a sweet maid like you.”

You came to the conclusion that every word out of this mans mouth made you hate him more and more. Interrupting people was just plain rude. He had the added benefit of looking and sounding genuinely creepy.  You shot a pleading glance to the Imperials. You could see there was a woman among them. A lady knight... Hey lady, solidarity? “As I’ve said, there is no time-”

“What’s that under your cloak?” She asked.  

Oh fuck you! Goddess damn it all... “It’s a rapier, good madame. For protection. As you know, the ruins and the roads are not safe.” You shifted the topic away from your comparatively impressive weapon back to helplessness. You could not let them get more suspicious of you. If this lady knight was like Ingrid, she would have knocked the bandit out by now, and then would have chastised the rest of the troops for their inaction.

Goddess, you wished she was with you now. But she was at the front.

The unkempt man let out a hearty chuckle. “Ya know your way round a blade, do ya? Any other kind of sword?” Ew. Sylvain totally could have come up with a better innuendo than whatever this guy was trying to do. It would still be pretty gross, but at the least it would have been leagues classier.

Man... you missed your friends.

“My word!” Come on, you Imperial dickheads! Be chivalrous and stop the bastard! “That is hardly something to imply to a lady...”

“C’mon missy, lighten up. You’re safe here with tough guys like me, and these dashin’ soldiers over here!” He shot the Imperials a grin.

“Leave us out of this.” The Imperial leader shook his head and went back to his food, deciding you weren’t a threat, and definitely weren’t worth his time.

Well fuck you too!

The man quickly closed the gap between the two of you, reaching out for your shoulder. You back peddled quickly, but did not drop your facade for a second, which was difficult. He was trying to get handsy with you already, and frankly he smelled absolutely revolting. That’s an awful combination of traits to be met with when feigning kindness. “With all due respect, good sir, I do not know you, and I would like to go now. I cannot waste a moment.” You could take this guy easily if you had more room. But you didn’t, and he had allies nearby as well. This would not be a fight in your favor. Your helpless appearance might be the only advantage you could utilize if they did not find you harmless enough to release.

“Nonsense missy, sit a spell and ya can be on your way.” Again, he tried to reach for you, and again, you created distance. This idiot just wouldn’t take a hint. His face fell as you stepped back. “You’re a rude little bitch, aren’t ya?”

Uh oh. This was gonna escalate quickly, wasn’t it? He lunged at you, intent on grabbing you for certain. You hit the bandit with Nosferatu - your own version of a warning shot. It wouldn’t hurt him terribly, showed him he really needed to fuck right off, and gave you a small boost of energy that you were definitely going to need within the next forty-five seconds.

The bandit stumbled backwards, falling over a log near the fire in pain. The imperials’ heads darted from him to you, all of them immediately standings and drawing their weapons. Their leaders voice began booming. “That magic - you’re with the Church of Seiros aren’t you? -- Or at the very least you attended the academy that dared oppose her majesty, the emperor.” 

OH, NOW THEY GIVE A SHIT. That was almost a correct statement though. Technically you were at the academy, but you were much more aligned with the Kingdom. Not that arguing that to these jerks would benefit you - realistically it might have made them angrier.

“Stay away from me!” You shouted, drawing your rapier to guard. You really couldn’t afford to use the thing in an actual fight, but maybe it could scare them back, add a little drama and convince them they shouldn’t try anything further.

“Your resistance to the rightful rule of the emperor must be punished. We ought to let these men have you for the evening.”

“What?!” That type of threat was one of the worst someone could make to another human being! Okay, the sword did nothing, it was officially time to skedaddle. You casted Aura into their firepit from the tip of your weapon, blowing it asunder, and creating a sizable explosion in the bandit camp that threw it into a beautifully distracting chaos. You turned to where you vaguely recalled the monastery being while you sheathed your blade, and you booked it, grateful for the strength you had zapped from the oaf. You were getting cut to ribbons by low hanging branches and brambles, but you did not care. You could deal with scrapes and bruises on yourself. You would not be able to properly handle whatever they intended for you.

You expected a spirited foot pursuit through the woods once your assailance regained their vision, and maybe some arrows to try to nick you and slow you down. They were all wearing armor, which was bound to slow them, tire them sooner, and make squeezing between gaps in trees trickier. By most logic, you would have been able to abscond into the night mostly intact, just as long as you kept moving. You did not expect one of them to bust out a javelin, and then with pinpoint accuracy, skewer it through your abdomen. It shot clean through you and your clothing, somehow not dragging your intestines out onto the ground in a pile of gore. (Don’t you hate it when enemy npcs crit?) You fell to your knees, and slumped against the tree the javelin lodged itself in, your own blood dripping from it, and from you.

You couldn’t even muster a cry of pain. You couldn’t move voluntarily. Your jaw hung agape in shock, and more blood still, leaked from your mouth as you uncontrollably wretched it, and then twitched till your back sat against the tree. Meanwhile your already glazed eyes point forward, into the darkness of the forest. Eventually, a few bandits and the soldiers made their way through the woodwork, finding you by moonlight.

“Oh Saint Seiros...” the lone female Imperial sighed. Ironic, an Imperial invoking the name of the Saint. She was a bit late for you needing her pity. You had no bitter quips to make internally. You didn’t have much in your mind other than a back and forth between perfect, nauseating, numbness, and incomprehensible, sickening pain. You didn’t have the energy to think about anything. You would never see your companions again. You would never see the war end. You would never find the cure you came here for. You had failed the Blue Lions. You had failed Lords Frauldarius and Gautier. You had failed your late mother. This is what you would have thought about, if you were able. Oh, this was an awful way to go, wasn’t it?

“Didn’t mean to throw it that hard...” That oaf from before gnashed his teeth in frustration. “What are we even gonna do with her if she’s dead?”

“Oh I’m sure someone as depraved as you will make do.” The leader of the Imperials had no pity for you, or the bandit.

The bandit leader hissed in disgust, “Are ya sayin’ I fuck corpses?”

“I am. I’m sure it’s not the worst thing you’ve done either.” He sheathed his weapons, the biggest threat to him truly neutralized.

Disgusting... absolutely disgusting. You weren’t even dead yet, and they were already discussing desecrating your corpse. Bastards. You tried to will yourself to fire off another nosferatu, it may have patched you up well enough until you could find a concoction and a bed to properly treat yourself. But nothing came. Your hand would not rise to cast it. You felt cold. Oddly, your chest hurt more than your stomach. The nausea had yet to subside. Why were you sweating so much? - You weren’t doing anything anymore.

Oh. You were going into shock. Hypovolemic Shock at that. That sucked.

The scarred bandit turned to the Imperial, his sword still brandished, “Ya know what, ya Imperial rat bas-“ The bandit was cut off by a sickening squelch, his blade falling from his hand. He let out a raspy gargle, blood leaking from his mouth in greater amounts than yours, and then he flopped to the ground. In the shadow of where he once stood was what, in your delirium, could only be described as the Spectre of Death itself. The Death Knight was nothing compared to this. It was dark, and your vision was fading, but you saw someone of grand stature, lording over the body. Curled in a mantle of wolves fur, full figure of black armor obscured by a royal blue cloak, gnarled golden locks matted to, and obscured a pale face from you. That, indeed, was surely Death.

“Bastards like you can make even me sick.” Death growled. “How dare you even think of what you were planning for that woman.”

A conversation you could no longer focus on occurred before you. Just sound occasionally breaking through the ringing in your ears. You blinked, and in that time, Death had grabbed the female Imperial by the throat, squeezing her neck, and collapsing her windpipe before she could even offer a whimper.

The leader was dumbstruck as Death dropped her body to the ground - he did not register that two of the people he was with were dead. His own fear of what he saw had blocked the thought - he only knew that Death was angry. He began to stammer, his feet frozen in place, “T-the One Eyed Demon! N-no! No! We were just joking! We weren’t actually going to- we weren’t- listen we’re soldiers- we would never-“

“Joking?!” Death snapped, “You monsters were planning to violate her as she lay dying! You dare call me a demon when you beasts we’re going to- ... I want you to know how much I’m going to enjoy gutting you... how much the dead are going to enjoy it.” 

“Captain! Run!” Another Imperial snapped to action and attempted to rush the Spectre of Death, maybe to tackle him, or attempt to restrain him somehow. Seemed like a terrible idea, given that he had impaled a man, and broke a woman’s neck in a second.

Death brought a short spear out from under his cloak, skewering the man, hardly budging from his stiff position over the two, now three bodies. “This woman isn’t the first offense, is it? Oh yes... I can hear them now... so many other women... violated and murdered by you disgusting wretches! May your blood bring them peace.”

You clocked out completely then, only darkness, no sound. And then, the screams of the Imperial Leader. Your eyes fought their way open once more. Two more bandit bodies, one Imperial on the ground. Death worked quickly, it seemed. The last body fell, The Leader, but Death remained standing. He looked down at you, reached for something under his cloak, and with quiet steps, strode to your resting place.

It must have been your turn now.

“Still alive, are you?” He held something blue in front of your eyes. You could only blink at it, your eyes slowly following up his arm to him. Again you blinked. “It’s a vulnerary.” The man said. A man? Of course, not Death, but a man. Death would not avenge you, but rather would take you away to the realm of the Goddess. This was a man and nothing more.

“... Help ...” You mouthed up at him, though no sound followed. Thank you, Goddess for the light of the moon, illuminating the two of you well enough for this interaction. Without another word, he knelt beside you and held the bottle to your lips. You managed a few minor sips without choking, but leaned your head back, needing time to process. You had to be careful, you were still in shock, after all. The man took this time to dump some of the vulnerary on the wound. You wheezed as your organs and skin knit themselves back together around the points of contact. Fuck! You forgot how much this kind of thing could hurt. Mercie would have patched you right up, no pain whatsoever - because she was good at this. She’d probably hand you a pastry too, for ‘Doing so well!’

Good news though, your chance of survival just shot way the fuck up. Bad news, as what you had just witnessed dawned on you, you were currently in the hands of whoever the fuck this scary bastard was, and you were still, again, very much in shock, and in unspeakable pain. He held you vulnerary up for you again, and this time you managed to take a few actual gulps, topping it off. You would live, barely. You looked over to the stranger, who looked back at you with more intense scrutiny.

Wait, no. Not a stranger. No, you definitely knew this guy. That face... one eye - pale blue, gold hair. “You... Your Highness..?” You rasped. His pupil shrank to a needle point, and you knew you were correct. Through your agony, you smiled. “Tha...thank the Goddess... Dimitri, you’re...” Oops. You were crying now. Of course... Of course! No one had seen the body! Of course he had to be... “You’re alive..!”

He stared at you, hard. He was determining just what kind of threat you posed, knowing who he was. The glare disappeared, and for a moment he just looked puzzled - and then, realization. “(Y/N)...?”

You made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He remembered you! “You’re alive!” You repeated gleefully.

“More or less.”

This brought you a brief jolt of adrenaline, just enough for you to grab his arm. “Don’t let me die yet, your highness-” You told him with a grave seriousness in your voice, only to be interrupted by the need to hack up more blood. You spoke through gasps for air. Your survival, now that it was within reach again, was essential. “I-I must... the cure... if I don’t... Dimitri, so many soldiers... civilians will-”

“Enough.” He told you flatly. “You’re choking yourself.” In a swift motion, giving you some very unneeded vertigo, he cradled your body, and lifted you up. Your only just returned awareness was torn from you once again. You groaned involuntarily. “How noble,” He muttered to himself, and then to you. “If you’re working to save the common folk, old friend, I will see to it that you stay in this world.” And you blacked out once more.

Chapter Text

Your time with The Prince was approximately a year in length, far too short, you think, but easily it was some of the happiest times of your life. Your presence at The Officers Academy, and your arrangement for being there was a complicated oddity. To cut a long story very, very, very short, your father was a wealthy merchant of The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, though he originally hailed from The Adrestian Empire. He had moved to the Kingdom for the sake of your dear Mother, who called the northern nation her home. When your Mother came down with a peculiar pestilence, your family sent you away for your own safety. Your father decided to call in a favor to an old friend from the Mittlefrank Opera House of the Empire. Apparently your father was once a very loyal patron - close with the Divas for it and all that. The friend went and asked for another favor from the Archbishop of the Church, which she very generously allowed. This is how you ended up with the somewhat unfortunate position as a Teaching Assistant to Professor Manuela.

Well, technically you weren’t just Manuela’s TA. You helped out in whatever class needed you the most that day, - realistically you hardly had any real work to do at all, and would sit in on lectures. Your job was to be people’s friend. Sometimes you graded papers, sometimes you helped in the garden. Once in a blue moon you would lecture about white magic (if Manuela was too hungover) - your true specialty, but most of your work was serving as a liaison between students and staff. Someone didn’t like a grade? They talked to you first. Someone needed to complain about the menu in the dining hall that day? Sounds like your problem. It was a cushy position, room and board included.  But... You were also the cursed soul tasked with waking Manuela up the morning after her failed dates. The job no one wanted. Manuela was so wonderful to you, doted on you, went out of the way to get you to the academy, and cared for you deeply - but she was a demon after a bad night out - if she wasn’t sobbing, anyway. Many things had haunted you for the past five years, but still slightly drunk, bitter, cranky Manuela was a more common one. You were not unqualified for the position. You were a skilled student from the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery for your talents in magic, attended a ladies seminary at home for all your social skills, and had enough survival instincts to know how to survive your job regarding Manuela.

Before the academic year started, Manuela, Hanneman and someone you elected to call ‘Professor Whatshisnuts,’ because of how forgettable he was, suggested that you write letters of introduction to the incoming house leaders - give them a heads up on what your job was, let them know you were there for their benefit, and in return, they would hopefully warm up to you faster. Manuela especially was concerned over you for this. She knew how the upper class could be... Your station in society, much like your standing in the academy was... in between. Not quite staff, not quite student. Not quite nobility, not quite commoner. Nobles would frown upon you, but commoners would expect you to turn your nose up to them. Getting close to people may have been difficult without this head start. And what better place to get ahead than with three members of literal royalty. Your letter to each followed a similar format. You wanted to keep it simple, but the formality with which you opened with seemed like an unwanted necessity when communicating with the 0.00001%.

Your most honorable duke/prince/princess,

I, (F/N, L/N) of the Kingdom of Faerghus will be serving a most unique position alongside you in this academic year at the Garreg Mach Monastery Officers Academy as a teaching assistant to many of your classes, though not in the traditional sense, given I am around the same age as the rest of the students. I will moreso be serving as a bridge between the faculty, you, and other students in hopes of easing the process of communication. 

I pray that you and I will be able to work well together for the success of your peers as well as your grace. Please do not hesitate to call upon me for whatever information you require of me, or in regards to life in the academy and monastery.

Your faithful servant,

(F/N, L/N)

You weren’t expecting much of a response from the three of them, but what you got gave you a fascinating read on their surface level personalities. Lady Edelgard’s response was fit for that of the head strong- but calculating, efficient manner of Princess that she was.

Lady (L/N),

I thank you most kindly for prior notice of your presence. I will be sure to notify you, should I not be able to resolve an issue myself. I shall also forward news of your being to other house members. I am certain they will find you amicable.

Sincerely,

Edelgard von Helvsreg,

Imperial Princess of the Adrestian Empire

You knew immediately that you were going to get along with Claude von Reigan. His reply was short and to the point, but also amusing and casual. Someone you could easily see yourself hanging out with.

Sounds good, miss. We should grab some food some time - talk in person like we young folk do, you know? I look forward to meeting you.

Regards ,

C. V. R.

And then... the prince. The sweet, boyish, considerate type.

Dear Lady (L/N),

Thank you very much for informing me of your presence. Had I known of it, I would have written to you first. I greatly look forward to meeting you - to be in your position at your age is the mark of extraordinary talent. I am rather curious about you, if it is not too bold of me to say. How did you come to this? - If you are comfortable answering such a question. Though I will be arriving at the academy soon, I would like to maintain correspondence with you. If it does not trouble you, you need not be exceptionally formal with your letters, should you write them at all. I do not think it natural to maintain stuffy formality amongst peers. I imagine that you will be working closely with house leaders, and getting to know each other more personally could prove beneficial.

I await your response with pleasing anticipation,

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

He had explained his reasoning for a more casual interaction with him, and yet he seemed genuinely interested in you. Of course you replied quite eagerly - royalty, curious about you! The two of you traded letters for weeks on end, with increasing casual-friendliness between the two of you, as though you had known each other for years - you were the same age - like you had grown up together. You explained your situation, your educational background, you even threw in your fencing experience. Every child of Faerghus knew how to handle a blade of some sort, you were no exception. It was something you two could relate to each other with. He was very sympathetic to your mother’s condition, bless him, and constantly asked about your time in Fhirdiad and seminary.  You really did become fast friends, and you hadn’t even met yet.

You were quite flustered when in one letter he proposed that the two of you dine together when he arrived. Just you and him? The prince?! You calmed down a small bit upon reading further. He requested that his vassal, Dedue Molinaro, be able to join you. You were unable to discern why permission was required. Of course, this gentleman could join you! The Prince had even gone on to say that Dedue was actually a close friend, simply attending the academy under the title of vassal for posterity's sake. He was a gardener, and a fantastic cook. A kindly and quiet man. What would the issue be? He clarified in the next letter that Dedue was from Duscur.
You made it abundantly clear that you had no ill will towards the remaining Duscur people - nor would you tolerate such bigotry in your presence. Dedue would be welcome by your side any time. If anyone gave the man trouble, he was to come find you as soon as possible. You would not pretend to be perfect. No one is perfect. But people can at least try to be moral. You judged people on their character - not things they could not control as part of that morality. You had learned to garden at the ladies seminary. Your mother liked gardening. It’s a hobby for the gentle. You figured you’d get along with Dedue well enough because of what that meant about him.

Your letters bounced back and forth until His Highness declared he was to depart for the monastery. He asked you to hold your reply. Your conversation was to continue in person. The day Alois and Whatshisnuts were supposed to return with the three royals was pure fucking chaos. They were late. Super late. And there were some batshit rumors flying around about demonic beasts, and bandits, and ransom. You showed no outward concern - a consequence of ladies seminary. That place really taught you how to keep your shit together appearance wise. No strong willed, proper future noblewoman (if you could net a noble) could inspire courage in her people and family if she became outwardly hysterical at the first sign of trouble. You may not have had faith in Whatshisnuts, but you had vague enough faith in Alois. He might have been goofy, but he was an exceptionally competent fighter. You also had faith in the royals. It was known that they were each a force to be reckoned with- this was what you told others. On the inside, you were freaking the fuck out. The Kingdom really needed His Highness alive. You weren’t going to say it out loud, but the regent was kinda shitty at his job, and the country’s hopes were riding on the crown prince. You imagine it was the same for the other future rulers. Not too mention at this point, you already considered the prince a friend.

Eventually, the three future rulers arrived, unscathed, thank the goddess. But Professors Whatshisnuts was not with them. Instead, there were two mercenaries, one of which could have been barely older than you. A father and son, who had allegedly come to the aid of the royals when they were ambushed by bandits, and separated from their guards. By some wild series of decisions you were not even going to begin to try to understand, the son was to become a professor in Whatshisnuts’ stead, given the bastard had run off, while the mercenary father was to resume his position as captain of the Knights of Seiros, a post he allegedly held long ago. You ended up working with the blue haired Mercenary more than you did Manuela. You were already expecting to have to assist Whatshisnuts, knowing his minimal experience, but Professor Byleth... having never taught anyone anything before needed all the help he could get. And your job was to assist where it was required.

You hit it off with His Highness in person just as well, if not better than you had in letters. After things had calmed down, you had gone to greet the prince with a curtsy, loyal subject that you were. When you finally looked up, you saw he was bowing back at you. When he saw how confused you were, he gave you a warm chuckle. “We discussed in our letters that I wanted to be treated like everyone else. If you’re going to bow to me, I’m going to have to bow back out of fairness.”

Your face turned a beat red, but you covered it up with an escaped giggle. His sense of humor was silly, but charming. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness.”

“Likewise, lady (L/N).”

You shook your head. “Just (Y/N) is fine, if we are going to be casual.”

Thick as thieves already. Dimitri kind of saved your ass on a lot of shit he really could have just left you to suffer over. Because of him always inviting you to things, you were basically an honorary Blue Lion, and you made friends with everyone easily, despite yours and their quirks - even Felix seemed to not detest being around you most of the time! That bond made the day where you woke up late on the day you were to do a lecture on white magic a little bit less awful than it could have been. 

You bolted up right in your bed, thinking you were late for class - when suddenly you remembered you weren’t a student anymore. You snuggled back into bed, cozy and reliev- you snapped up again, “I’M A TEACHER!” You screamed. You had stumbled out of bed and collected your lecture notes, sprinting to the classroom as fast as your bare feet could carry you. It wasn’t until you put your paperwork down on your desk that you realized that you were shoeless because you forgot to get dressed. Nope, no shirtwaist, no petticoat, no skirt, no stockings. Your hair was tied in a bun. You were still in your pajamas, and fuck, did you feel stupid. It would have eaten up more class time to go back and change. You became quietly resigned to the fact that you were going to be doing this lecture in your nightgown. A lady cannot get hysterical . You turned to face the class, who just saw your... interesting entrance. Ingrid and Ashe looked like they were going to ask you if you were alright. “Don’t question me, I’m going back to bed after this. Books to page 45, we’re talking about Aura today.”

“What are you doing?” Felix sighed with that annoyed edge in his voice.

“My best, Felix. I’m doing my best.”

“You’re becoming more like Manuela every day.”

You opened your lecture book and frowned. Manuela was the baddest bitch in the game, and thems the facts. But she was also a complete mess. “Please don’t say that. I want to pretend I still have my life together...” The brooding Fraldarius boy shook his head and opened his book to take notes. He liked to take notes on things that caused damage.

“I like your nightgown!” Annette told you with a smile packed with sincerity.

“Thank you, Annette.” You adored that angel of a girl. Her and Mercie, bless them, both actually prepared for class - fellow Sorcery School alumni.

“Yeah it looks really good on you.” Sylvain grinned at you. He hadn’t opened his book yet. You were about to hit that kid with ‘DETENTION,’ Ingrid was about to hit him in general, but an unexpected third party joined the fray. Dimitri, to his left, shifted slightly, not looking up from his pages, and suddenly Sylvain was howling in pain. “Did you just stomp on my foot?!”

“Anyway!” You snapped your fingers, firing off a heal spell to the Gautier boy. You didn’t have time for any complaining, or for acknowledging what seemed to be a fit of anger from the prince - you had a lecture to give. “Aura is a really cool, extremely destructive white magic spell that I will not hesitate to use on the next person who questions my appearance...”

His Highness also did you a major favor in terms of sword fighting. Most students and staff were given a blade of some sort. Some had knives, and some had swords. Seeing students walking around with sabers was a huge relief. You fenced sabre at the seminary, so if they gave you one here, you could feign some competency in combat strategum. Except they gave you a rapier for some reason, and you were having an awful time trying to comprehend it. For Seiros’ sake! Sabre was a neat cutting motion, rapier was all stabby and weird! How were you supposed to parry if your blade was supposed to be pointed forward?! Why was it so much heavier than a sabre?! Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to give you something like this?! Why were you too flustered to ask for something different?! Oh, but your dear prince was there to assist. You had taken to poking around the training ground when it was empty in a concerted attempt to learn rapier fencing. That mainly meant at ungodly hours of the morning and night. You had tried to osmosis some information from observing Professor Byleth and Felix, but both seemed to wield their blades like they were arming swords, which you just couldn’t fathom comfortably doing with the elegant basket hilted weapon you were given.

You were frustrated with yourself. Even when you were trying to strike a practice dummy, no one else around you, you felt annoyed and embarrassed. In Sabre, you could make a cut, and it might bounce off certain materials but you knew how that worked. What were you supposed to do with a thrusting weapon? How much was the blade supposed to bend? Sometimes when you hit it, you were forced back more because you weren’t gripping the hilt correctly. You just couldn’t stop coming to sabre guard. You didn’t even know where rapier guard was supposed to be! All you knew was that it was angled much more forward to facilitate thrusts. It didn’t feel comfortable. You sat cross legged on the ground in front of the dummy, skirt and dress shirt almost as ruffled as your hair was. You placed your blade down and put your head in your hands, letting out an elongated groan.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You snapped to attention, “Your Highness? It’s late, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, Y/N.” He extended a gloved hand, helping you to your feet.

“I asked first.” You quipped with a smile.

“Sleep evades me, so I came here to tire myself out.” He returned a grin to you. Oh, that smile made you feel special. He had friends, yes, but they were formal with him, no matter how much he asked them not to be. You think he looked at you like that because you really tried your hardest to treat him as an equal. “Your turn.”

“Well, I’m desperately trying to hide the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Swordsmanship? I understood that you were a fencer, correct?” He did that thoughtful hand to his face-head tilt combo of his. Adorable.

You leaned down and retrieved your weapon. “Correct, but for Sabre. The academy gave me-“ 

“A rapier... that’s an entirely different beast.”

“And that’s my problem.” You sighed heavily, “I’m trying to apply what I know, but the fundamentals are just... too unique from each other for me. I... I don’t even know how to hold the blade.” You raised the handle up so he could see your grip.

“Ah, well there’s your first problem. You’re holding it like a saber!” You thought he was going to take the blade from your hand, then let you see how it was held. You were glad the training ground lighting was dim enough that your flaming red complexion was harder to see as the prince had removed a gauntlet just so he could fit his bare hand over yours within the basket hilt. You had never seen this man without gloves or a gauntlet on. Not in class, not when he was eating - you were pretty sure he slept with something covering his hands. This was absolutely wild. “Your index finger wraps around the quillon, while the rest of your hand stays on the grip. You could also try holding it from the pommel, but that may make it a bit unwieldy.”

“Isn’t that going to put my fingers in danger?” He had a fairly strong grip, though he didn’t appear aware of it. Maybe that's why he wore gloves everywhere. His strength seemed to cause him to break things easily. Practical questions to distract you from how nervous you were that actual royalty was low key holding your hand.

“That’s what the basket hilt is for. Your hand should be safe, for the most part.” You had seen what he meant, and were holding the blade much more comfortably, yet he still hadn’t released your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how cold his fingers were, despite being gloved moments prior. And his hand was larger than yours, encompassing it in a chill. Was that why he bundled up? Was he cold? Perhaps you could help keep him warm. You were not experienced in that kind of thing yet, but surely if he pulled you in closer you could figure it out. Ah! Stop right there brain!

“And where should my guard be?” You asked him, trying to focus on anything other than the suggestive thoughts this was putting in your overactive imagination. You shifted into Sabre en garde, which hunched you forward away from him. If him holding your hand had lead your mind this far into the gutter, you didn’t need to see where anything further would take you mentally. You were supposed to be a professional, damn it all!

“Oh, your guard! Let’s fix your posture first, shall we?“ His hand did not leave yours as he shifted to stand behind you, his arm running parallel with yours to the blade. “Your footwork is fine for the most part, but with rapier, it’s preferable to be upright or tilted back until you’re making a strike. Only then should you risk lunging and leaning forward.” You swallowed a squeal when you felt his other hand come to your hip, pulling your back into his torso.

Oh goddess damn it all.

I AM A PROFESSIONAL. You told yourself. You arched your back quite a bit trying not to touch him too much. Trying not to make it weird... 

“Not quite like that. If your shoulders are the only thing leaning, then you’ll lose your range.” With your head to his chest, you felt the vibrations of his warm chuckle. His hand snaked farther across your stomach, to the buttons going down the center of your shirtwaist. He pressed you against him from there, forcing you to straighten your spine. He noticed you stiffen, “it’s alright if you would like to lean against me, I do not mind.”

Why was he doing this? Why was he making it weird? Surely he knew this could fluster someone... was this on purpose? Wouldn’t you have liked that? For this to be on purpose? For him to take back the few layers of cloth separating the two of you? Aaaaaahhhhhhh! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! “L-like this..?” You tried to play off your stammer by adjusting yourself accordingly, tilting your back slightly into him.

“Excellent,“ you felt him nod against you, making you conscious of the fact that you could feel him breathing against the side of your face. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that your off hand is for defense.”

“Yes... I could use a dagger, or a cloak. I could parry other rapiers opened handed, if I felt reckless.” You understood rapier combat, in theory, yes. Because of the way rapiers are made, the way you wound opponents is better done by stabbing. Rapiers still have sharpened edges, it is still possible to make lacerations, but those are more warnings. You said it yourself, a careful hand can block a cut from a rapier. The point, and the force behind it is what does damage. And if you could just keep your mind on things like that, you could avoid how warm the princes’ body felt compared to his fingers. It was night and day.

“I would rather you have a shield or a buckler... I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” If he was warm, then his breath was burning your skin. He had to have known what he was doing - no one leans into someone’s ear to whisper something like that by accident. Not when their hand slowly strokes across someone’s body to grasp for the other person’s. TOUCHDOWN FOLKS. His Highness was officially, actually, high key, for realsies holding your hand! “Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

“I’m fine! Why do you ask?” You replied far too quickly for it to have been nonchalant.

“You seem like you’re out of breath.”

Aw fuck, were you actually panting? Oh goddess, oh Seiros, oh fuck. Think of an excuse! Think of an excuse you, thirsty simpleton ! “I... well I have been at this for a while now. It must be catching up with me.”

“I see. Perhaps you should finally get some rest. Would you like me to escort you back to your room?”

He wanted to go to your room? HE WANTED TO GO TO YOUR ROOM?! YES YES YES YES. Wait- fuck- NO NO NO NO. GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER. “Sure!” You smiled sweetly, but on the inside you were screaming. You yawned. Maybe it wasn’t an excuse. You were at it for at least a few hours. Perhaps you weren’t being a thirsty teenager, and you were actually exhausted. You gratefully linked arms with him, and allowed him to guide you to your room. There was actually quite the chill in the air, and no matter how proud a citizen of Faerghus you were, you were not immune to the cold. You were happy the gentleman next to you was pleasantly toasty, and that he didn’t seem to mind you unconsciously drifting closer to him. Oh, you were definitely tired. You had more or less stopped thinking about unsavory things involving you and His Highness. It hardly even occurred to you to be daringly flirtatious enough to invite him in as you approached your door. “I hope you get some sleep too, Your Highness.”

“Rest well, (Y/N).” The two of you seemed to have processed what happened at the same time. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you looked to Dimitri, who had taken your hand, and planted a light kiss on the back of your palm. As he straightened up from the slight bow he was in, it clicked with him what he just did, he released your hand, and spun on his heels. “Goodnight!” He called to you, speed walking faster than anyone you had ever seen in your life. You retired to your bed, and screamed into your pillows until you drifted into a very... ahem ... self indulgent dream.

Certainly, you became flustered around him, but as time went on it became more and more clear to you... you did not just have a crush on the prince. You were in love with him. And it seemed he loved you back. Truly, he cared more deeply for you than surface jealously over someone flirting with you, or teasing you for his own amusement. Your happiness mattered to him. You had noticed a shift in behavior towards you from Dimitri. He was not shying away from his blatant affection to you. In fact he was getting bolder with it. Public, on occasion. There was quite the occurrence in the library one autumn day.

You, around seventeen at this point, had not quite grown to your full height, annoyingly so. The shelves in that corner of the monastery, tucked away from the world, were made for people much larger than you were. And somehow, every single stepping stool or ladder for the room was in use or gone. So there you were, standing on the tips of your toes, and jumping up and down, fruitless, or rather, bookless, and feeling very silly. You needed someone who currently stood at approximately 180 centimeters if you were going to get the tome you were after. And what luck, the crown prince, who was conveniently the specified height, had just meandered his way over to you. Had the Goddess answered your prayers? Had she sent you an appropriately heighted prince to save you? “Hello (Y/N). Having some trouble?”

“Morning!” You chirped, pausing from another failed attempt at stretching another few inches. . “A little bit. High shelves, short person. You know how it is...”

“Oh, please, allow me.” You felt a bit of pressure curl around your thighs, and suddenly you were about eye level with the book you were struggling to reach for. You grabbed your prize, and His Highness gently returned your feet to the ground. You tried not to look at him like he had seven heads, but you could not help but look slightly shocked. “Apologies, perhaps I should have asked before grabbing you like that.”

“Probably,” You shrugged, “But at least I have my book now. So thank you.” You began to make saunter over to a table, Dimitri trailing behind you like your own shadow. Somehow, in the span of time it took to get this book, and for you to be returned to the ground, the library was emptied of its inhabitants, save for the two of you. How convenient. You perched yourself on the edge of the table.

“What are you reading today then?” He asked, leaning into your personal bubble to get a look at your tome.

You lifted the book so that he could see your anthology on medical treatise on various illness throughout Fodlan’s history. “I’ve been doing some research on disease for a few weeks now. I thought that maybe... I might be able to figure out what's ailing my mother. And maybe if I can do that, it might benefit other people as well!”

“I see, you mentioned in your letters that the illness’s identity was alluding every physician that saw her.”

“That's right. But I’ve got access to more updated research. If there’s anything they don’t know about, this is where I’ll find it.” You could not help but notice the ledger tucked in his arm. Donation Records was all you could discern. “And what are you researching?”

“Oh, just looking into some... family business, I suppose. Not much.” He wouldn’t get to look into that business until a late evening that month.

You accepted that rather curt answer because you were distracted by the realization that he had lifted you several feet off the ground with one arm moments ago. There was no other time he could have found that book - so he had to have been holding it when he approached you. “You’re awfully strong, Your Highness. You know that?”

“I am aware, yes. I have an unfortunate habit of breaking more delicate objects because of it.”

“Well, thank you for not breaking my legs a few minutes ago.”

He came so close to pouting at you. “I already apologized for that. And besides your legs seemed strong enough.”

He might not have realized what he had said. Oh. My. Goddess. He walked himself into this shit. It was time for revenge... revenge for flustering you at the training ground. “Your Highness!” You feigned a gasp, bringing a hand to your chest, “Have you just confessed to laying a hand upon a maids legs?! How lucky you are that my skirt is long enough to defend my modesty!”

“Now- hold on a moment!” His face was priceless. If only Ignatz had been there to paint it. You watched his eyes widen slightly, and his cheeks gain a noticeable color. “Th-that is not-”

You actually had him stammering! “You villain!” You threw a half-hearted punch to his chest. “How could you do such a thing?!”

You were fully prepared to continue teasing him, had you not been interrupted by a loud groan coming from the doorway of the library. “Ugh, Good Goddess, will you two get a room?” 

“To be fair, they were the only ones here before we showed up.” Sylvain pointed out to Felix. “Still, in a library. That’s awfully risque, even to me!”

By this point you and the prince were both blushing furiously. “Oh go hit on Ingrid’s granny again!” You snapped back to the Gautier heir, causing him to wince. For the first time in possibly ever, you heard Felix snicker, definitely as a result of Sylvain’s embarrassment. Oh no, he wasn’t escaping this unscathed... “And you! Why don’t you go spy on Annie again? Or better yet - mind your own business!”

“I- shut up I’m not-” Oof. That accusation caught him off guard.“Am I really that obvious..?” He asked quietly, a look of shock on his face. It was kind of amazing how Felix didn’t seem to realize that he was noticeably a dick to everyone except that spunky ginger girl. It was obvious - Painfully. Blatantly. Stupidly obvious - That Felix had a crush on Annette and he had no idea how to express it other than by teasing her, or by lurking around her.

“Alright. Message received. Let’s leave the young lovers alone...” The red haired man gave his friend’s sleeve a quick tug as he turned to leave.

Felix appeared to snap back to reality, “Sylvain, we’re here to-”

“No essays are worth destroying blooming romance.” He looked back and gave the prince a thumbs up.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say - and that’s saying something.” The two men left you and the prince be. You awkwardly retracted your hand, which had been resting on Dimitri’s shoulder since your fake hit.

His Highness was the first to break the unbearable silence. “You see everything in this place, don’t you?”

“Kinda. More like Professor Byleth does, and I get to hear all the details when we’re grading papers. Stoic as he is, he does need to let off steam once in a while. I guess his chosen form is gossiping about his students.” Speaking of the devil, the Ashen Demon appeared wordlessly. He nodded to the prince and outstretched a scroll to you. “This is addressed to you.”

On that day of the Wyvern Moon, you received a letter. A horrible, horrible letter... Professor Byleth had handed it off to you. The poor man had no idea what he had done. “Oh. It’s from my father!” You told the prince as you unfurled the parchment. Byleth nodded, and made his retreat.

My dearest (Y/N) ,

You must forgive me, little one. I am sure your time at the Academy has been most joyous, and I am sure Manuela has been treating you well. But I write to you, dear girl, to inform you of something terrible.

This was all... oddly formal, coming from Father. He could be flowery in writing, but that was usually only when he was dealing with clients, or, when something very bad happened. You felt your stomach drop, and then rise to your throat, choking you. 

For days she spoke of how much she missed her sweet little lady. She was so proud of what you’re doing. Till the end she was proud of you. She loved you. I need you to understand that. I need you to know that more than anything. But there was nothing any of us could do for her. The illness was too mysterious. Modern medicine simply did not understand it.

“Y/N?” Dimitri called, watching the color drain from your face. But you kept reading. Even as dark spots and tears clouded your vision, you kept reading. “Y/N- please, what’s the matter?”

My beloved daughter, it pains me more than anything in the world to have to tell you in a letter that your dear mother has succumbed to her sickness, and has left this world and joined the Goddess. 

“My... my mother is-” And as you read that final, awful, awful, awful line, your world went black. Had he not been standing so close to you, there would have been no one to save your limp body from going head first into the unforgiving stone floor.

You stirred slightly at the sound of Manuela clearing her throat. “Oh she was a good woman...” She sounded like she had been crying, and was finally settling down. “Leaving old (L/N) and her little girl this way. It’s... it’s tragic.” You felt her hand brush hair from your eyes. “The poor dear...”

“Professor Manuela, is there anything we can do for her?” Dimitri asked.

“Not much, other than making sure she rests for a while... I want to stay with her when she wakes up. Seiros knows she's going to need the comfort, but I’ve got to take the brats on their mission...” She corrected herself. “I mean, the Black Eagle House...”

“Would it be alright if I stayed with her instead?”

“Awww, aren’t you a prince charming...” She jested. “... Well, you two are close. I think that would be good. But, Dimitri?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“If you don’t take care of her - I don’t care about your royal status - you will be unrecognizable by the time I’m through with you.”

“You needn’t worry. I want... I don’t want to see her like this.”

“Good answer, kid.” She gave one last sniffle. “I’ll be off then.”

You heard the shift of cloth, someone taking a seat nearby. Then you felt a gauntlet clasp your hands. In another few minutes you opened your eyes, meeting the pitying gaze of the prince. The conversation you had heard, the letter suddenly processing through your mind. “M-mother..?!” You jerked upward, only for your friend to grab you by the shoulders.

“Careful, careful...” He soothed pressing you back down. “You were in a bit of shock. Let’s be cautious.”

You shook your head, resisting the pressure. “No... no, no... Let me up... please I need to-”

“(Y/N) You need to stay down.” He told you calmly, unaffected by your struggling.

“I hav- I have to-” You babbled.

“You have to rest for a moment.” He managed to get you to a stillness, though he had to move from his chair to the infirmary bed. “I will stay with you if I must, but please, try to keep still.”

You made an attempt at a few shallow breaths, tears already stinging your eyes. “I... Please... help me sit up, at least.”

His eyes narrowed in concern. He wasn’t much of a healer, and was unsure if moving you at all would make things worse. He sighed as the tears in your eyes began to drip down your face. He couldn’t justify denying you with the way you were looking up at him. Like he was touching glass, he gently lifted you to be sitting up. “No further than this, for now.”

You nodded in affirmation. You looked around quickly. He must have carried you to the infirmary after you had blacked out. “The... the letter... is my mother really..?” You couldn’t even finish your question.

You did not need to. “I’m sorry.” The prince told you softly. You reflexively buried your face into his chest, shaking violently as the sobs of grief escaped you. A feeling you could only describe as guilt was overwhelming you. Surely, there must have been something you could have done to prevent this. You could have started your research sooner. You could have been at home with her. But instead you were hundreds of miles away, flirting with a man you could never have instead of being with your family- The self loathing thoughts halted as Dimitri curled his arms around your trembling form. He lightly rubbed circles on your back, hushing you, and rocking you back and forth. You felt his jaw open and close on your shoulder a few times, like he was about to speak, but kept deciding against it before finally he spoke softly, “When this year is over... Come back to Fhirdiad with me.”

You pulled away from him - unable to even vocalize a ‘H-huh?’ You blinked some water from your eyes. You were about to wipe your eyes, but the prince beat you to it, his gloved hand brushing your face for you.

He could see the confusion in your expression. “I’m... My apologies. I know very well what you are going through now. The grief... the anger... feeling powerless. I promise you, it is not your fault that this happened. Come with me to the capital. Continue your research there. Save others from the same fate. You can work with the royal mage - she may be invaluable to your work, with her experience in previous sicknesses.”

“Your highness...” You croaked, before nestling into his chest again. “... Thank you.”

Chapter Text

You were so grateful to His Highness in the weeks following the news. His support provided greatly needed emotional stability. That boy was doing everything he could to try and cheer you up. You wouldn’t know it until much later, but after the Remire Village Incident, the prince was not well mentally. But all that time, he was keeping his composure for your. You wished he hadn’t repressed his issues like that - things could have been different, surely. But at the time you were none the wiser to his internal struggle. Try not to fault yourself. You were still just a girl, at the time. Your perception was clouded by grief, but also by the rosy lens of young love. 

That sweet prince scarcely left your side unless you expressly asked him to. He accompanied you at any free moment. Between lectures, during sparring lessons, to meals and such, you were practically inseparable. On one occasion, he insisted on escorting you on a shopping trip. You weren’t an expert on the subject, but you were fairly certain that it had turned into a date. You were supposed to go out and get some seeds for the greenhouse, though the Professor had slipped you a much larger sum of cash than necessary, probably to cheer you up, try to signal you to go have some fun. And so there you were, out in public, on the arm of the future king. His excuse for holding onto you? “It’s quite busy today, I wouldn’t want to lose you.” Ever the charmer; smooth and charismatic as it got. You two would have looked rather cute if you didn’t have your rapier tethered to your hip, and he didn’t have a lance strapped to his back. Instead you looked cute AND intimidating.

The two of you were sat down outside of a little bakery in the town beneath the monastery. The prince had asked you, off hand it seemed, what your favorite pastry was on your way to the market. Not realizing you were in front of a confectionary, you told him you didn’t have a favorite, but that you thought it was hard to go wrong with a fruit tart. The absolute mad-lad went in to get you one. “Your Highness! That’s not necessary-”

“If you don’t eat it, it will just go to waste.” After a good deal of careful negotiating, and by that I mean persistent insistence, it was decided that you would split it. You noted he had not taken off his gloves when you handed him his half. “It smells delicious,” He observed.

You were inclined to agree. You could smell the pastry crust, and the fruit, and even the sugar glaze holding the smaller berries in place. You took a bite, feeling sugar, and blueberry explode on your tongue. “It’s so sweet!” You told him.

“Indeed it is,” he replied, then taking his first bite. Something about that didn’t add up, but you didn’t take much note at the time. With your snack finished, he took your arm once more, and you vaguely continued your quest for the things you were actually there for. Vaguely, because you had a lot more cash than usual, and wanted to window shop. But what would you get? A new hat? Maybe a pair of gloves? ... Medical treatise..? It hadn’t quite become an obsession, but your interest in healing and reason had dramatically increased; perhaps a side effect of your lingering guilt. Manuela had started training you in the infirmary to satiate your new ‘passion,’ The professor was only exacerbating the progress by bringing you on missions as a secondary healer. 

You and your companion had paused in front of a merchant selling weaponry but also spell books, which you were giving a curious glance to. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Do you have a fondness for daggers, by any chance?” He asked, checking the weight on a blade.

You thought for a moment, “Hm, I’m not so sure I do, thinking on it. Maybe a field knife, since the professor has been bringing me out as a medic lately, but an actual dagger wouldn’t suit me outside of an offhand item in a fencing bout.”

“Is that so?” He sounded a bit disappointed for some reason, putting the knife down, but bounced back quickly. “Then what single item would you want on you in a battle?”

You let out thoughtful ‘hmph,’ Only one thing? That was a fairly tough choice. “Maybe... a prayer ring?”

“And why is that?”

“Well, I can fight with magic well enough. But I can’t heal myself on my own, right? And by combat logic, magic users are just naturally... squishier than other fighters.” You pinched your own, squishy, squishy cheek for emphasis, “So a prayer ring can help me take care of myself in a tough spot.”

He nodded, before he struggled to suppress a grin. “That’s very fair, but... ‘squishier?’”

“You know what I mean!”

It never once crossed your mind that he wanted to get you something. You two were enjoying each other’s company so much that you had almost forgotten to get the seeds. Days moved by in a blink from then. You were not done grieving, but when we lose someone we love, do we ever truly stop? You were doing better though. Not every day was perfect, but you were getting through just fine enough. You had made it to the ball! That would have been an occasion that could have cheered up even the grouchiest person. Except for maybe Felix and Hubert - but those two just seem grumpy on purpose most of the time.

At the start of the night, you were lurking behind Professor Byleth, but once he got snatched away by Claude with a “You’re next, (Y/N),” there was no hiding you. You were a bit... bashful. You had danced before, that was hardly an issue - thank the Goddess for seminary, but after several months of these people seeing you in perfectly normal clothing, and occasionally in your pajamas, showing up in your nicer uniform garments was... off putting and frankly uncomfortable, and the less people seeing you like that, the better. You were a civilian, and here you were in military dress - fish out of water. What kind of monster puts someone who almost exclusively wears shirtwaists and blouses into a tight fitting single-breasted jacket? You could have tolerated a frock coat, maybe, since those had a bit of breathing room, but this was madness. You didn’t even want to get started on your skirt. You wore long skirts, because you’re from the Kingdom, and it’s cold, and exposing your knees was just impractical - Here you were, not reaching your knees at all. Someone was kind enough to order tights or breeches under them as part of dress code. But at that point you couldn’t help but consider the blatant double standard for the dress code in place. And the cords- THE CORDS- Why did they give you cords?! You weren’t an officer, and they could get tangled in your hair if you moved too much - why did you have to put the stupid things on this stupid jacket - and why was this happening to you? Your only saving grace to keeping a low profile, was that all three royals were on the dance floor with most eyes on them. Surely that could net you some peace.

You heard a gasp “(Y/N)!” It was Annette. Sweet, angelic, little Annette... Easily excitable Annette - oh fuck- That darling girl let out the highest pitched squeak you had ever had the misfortune of hearing in your entire life. A few people near her blinked to get their bearings, like an explosion had gone off near them as she scurried her clumsy feet to your side. Of course their eyes followed her to you. You had to catch her so she wouldn’t wipe out. “You look so cute~!” She exclaimed as you helped her steady herself.

“Thanks, Annie...” Ahhh ! Compliments about your appearance - make it stop! What was the fastest way to get out of this conversation? Throw her at someone else! “Where’s the rest of the gang?” You asked, trying not to blush at the girl beaming up at you.

“Ah, well Sylvain pestered Ingrid into dancing with him, and then Mercie actually convinced Dedue to dance with her-” 

“Really?” You had to interrupt, that had caught you completely off guard. You scanned the crowd once more, and sure enough, Mercie was doing her best to lead a giant, who seemed beside himself with nervousness. You didn’t know he was capable of that type of expression. How did she get him to agree to that? You snickered, but covered it up with a clearing of your throat. You didn’t want to be cruel! That aside, those four were out. Dimitri was off dancing as well... “And the others?”

“Well, I have no idea where Ashe went. If I had to guess he’s either with Cyril or Petra.”

Your eyes darted around, where was that raven-haired jerk? Was he skipping the ball? “What about Felix?”

“Felix..?” She murmured quietly, then she scowled, her face getting rosy. “What about that meanie?”

“Aww, what did he do this time?” You already knew what he did. He wasn’t taking her bribe to forget about her singing. You caught him lurking outside the greenhouse listening to her a few days prior. He was smiling. Not pouting. Not smirking. Smiling! You weren’t going to tell her that though. You spotted the bastard alright, leaning against a pillar by the door... hiding. Perfect.

“I-I- I don’t wanna talk about it!” She finally huffed. “He deserves the worst, (Y/N)! Because he’s the worst!”

“You know what would be great payback..?” You began. She looked up at you with starry, vengeful eyes. Operation Leave (Y/N) Alone was a go. “You gotta embarrass him. Get him to dance tonight.”

Her jaw dropped, “That... That’s diabolical!” She clasped her hands together, “That’ll teach him!”

“See him? He’s hiding behind that pillar over there.” You pointed him out to the ginger, and off she went. This could literally only end well for you, either it was going to be adorable and you had done the world a favor by getting your peace and relative quiet back, or Annette got her vengeance and you still got the aforementioned peace and relative quiet back. You were the most evil matchmaker to ever walk the earth. That poor man’s toes were done for, with how clumsy Annie could be. You had no regrets. Why don’t you get a room, Frauldarius? Oh good goddess, if they made it over to this side of the room, you were totally gonna say that!

Just when you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, Claude Von Reigan made good on his word, and dropped the Professor off to your side, grabbing your hands without any warning. “Your turn~!” He practically sang, letting go of one hand only to rest it again near your ribs. Was this man really dragging you onto the floor for a Viennese Waltz? 

“Oh damn you, Claude!” Operation Leave (Y/N) Alone had failed!

He chuckled, “I’m doing you a favor! There were way too many people starting to eyeball you. No way I’d let them put their grubby little hands on my favorite junior professor!”

“ Teaching Assistant, Claude! I’m a Teaching Assistant !” You put your free hand on his shoulder to maintain formality as he waltzed you away from what you realized was a half circle starting to form around where you were. That kind of thing only happens when multiple people were thinking of approaching someone. Seeing that, you were almost grateful... almost.

“Same difference,” He gave you a playful eye roll. “Anyway, you’re looking positively radiant, but you’re super uncomfortable, am I right?”

“Spot on, as usual, Duke Reigan.” You bantered, twirling closer and closer to the center of the dance floor. Your new saving grace was going to have to be people focusing more on Claude than on you. “I can barely lift my arms in this stupid jacket. And-”

“And they’re making you wear cords on it too? That's... Ah, that’s rough, buddy.” Claude really understood you. What a guy. The heir tilted his head and spied over your shoulder as that particular waltz eked out its final notes. His smile grew even wider, truly reaching his eyes for once. “Don’t worry, my dear lady, I know what’ll cheer you up!”

“Wha-what?” He released your torso, but not your hand. He spun you around and dragged your confused self across the floor.

“Hey, Your Princliness, trade you!” You realized in that moment that you owed Claude Von Reigan the world. Fear the Deer, damn it. He grabbed the arm of the brunette the prince had been dancing with, “May I?” He asked, leading her away with a smile. He turned over his shoulder to wink at you. He was a hell of a wingman, you’d give him that.

“Oh, good evening (Y/N).”

Since you were already there, you had nothing to lose. Might as well have some fun with your handsome friend. “Your Highness,” You greeted with a ground sweeping curtsy, “Might I have this dance?”

Dimitri looked at you, amused. He did his best to bite back a wry grin, “Why of course, my lady.” If you didn’t know he was bantering with you, him calling you that might have made you blush. He was still wearing gloves, typical. He took your hand, and placed the other on your hip. Hm, brave that night, wasn’t he? You wondered if people outside of the Blue Lions and the exceptionally perceptive Claude thought the two of you had something going on, given how close you had been publicly. You tried to put the thought out of your mind sometimes. You were just a commoner. Your puppy love and fleeting affections probably weren’t meant to last. That wasn’t the case now though, you were there, and deserved to have a fun time. You placed your hand on his shoulder, expecting another Vienesse Waltz. You were instead met by a nonspecific slow waltz. For slowing dancing. Slow dancing with the prince. How Convenient . You felt like he was holding you closer than Claude did. Or were you imagining things? “You look lovely.” He told you quietly. Words only you were meant to hear, apparently.

You gave him a bashful smile, “With how uncomfortable these clothes are, I better look at least passable.”

“I mean it, (Y/N).” He said, in a much more serious tone. Aaaahhhhh! More people complimenting your appearance! And this one you were way less willing to run from for your own peace of mind. He watched you look down, wide-eyed, unable to keep a straight face. “Was that... forward of me?”

“Y-yeah, a little bit...” You nodded. “Thanks though- I mean thank you, that’s very sweet of you to say!”

It was his turn to be embarrassed. Thankfully, this song was slow enough where your inability to get your shit together didn’t throw either of you off balance. Unfortunately, this song was also slow enough where stopping suddenly would look really awkward, and you were very uninterested in calling that level of attention to yourself. So you were stuck with him holding you in his arms, unable to escape due to social convention. “This song is also quite beautiful.” He murmured aloud.

You nodded again, eyes still to your feet. Not too creative with your responses, were you?

“(Y/N)... The next time I turn, you need to look up. You’re going to want to see this.”

You poked your head up, perplexed. But, looking past him as the two of you made a half turn, you saw a truly glorious sight. Holy shit... Felix was as red as Lady Edelgard’s cape, clearly gnawing on the inside of his cheek as Annette kept tripping into him with every single turn they made together. Holding the man’s hand was making her blush as well, but her commitment to her revenge was allowing her to hold relative composure on that front. She probably thought he was embarrassed because she roped him into dancing. That was adorable! Her determination aside, every time she stumbled she would apologize, “Oops, aw- g-geez I didn’t mean to do that!”

And each time he murmur an “It’s alright. It’s fine.” He was strong enough to keep leading, even as Annette stepped on his feet multiple times.

You failed to stifle a laugh on a brief turn where you and Felix were capable of locking eyes. That boy could have cut you in half with a butter knife. You reflexively ducked your head into Dimitri’s chest, before Felix could look into your soul and learn that you had personally organized this assault on his pride. “That’s so cute, oh good goddess.”

You could feel the prince’s chest hum, “I’ve never seen him look like that before.” 

You didn’t want to move your head with Felix still nearby, but you didn’t want to look up to your dance partner either, so you kept your head rested against him. His heart was racing, you even felt his hands twitch when you had mistakenly nuzzled against him when you turned your head to get more comfortable.

“It’s warm in here... Would you like to step out when this song finishes?” He tilted his head to whisper to you. Again with the whispering into your ear...

Avoiding your untimely death by the heir of House Fraldarius’ exceptionally angry hand? Absolutely, you would like to step away from this closed off room with one of the strongest people in the academy on your side! “Sounds good.” And so you kept on turning, and turning, and turning. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Unwilling to look up, you closed your eyes. The music was so slow... and warm... No, no the prince was warm. He’d said it himself. “Dimitri.” You mouthed his name, no sound escaping you. You had never called him by name before. You were so informal with him in all other cases; so playful and casual. But never once did you say his name. Why was that the case? What were you waiting for? His permission? Did you really need a friend’s permission to call him by his own name? Your lips parted again, but still no sound. Saying his name would mean you were trying to get his attention, right? What did you want to talk to him about? Or did you just want to hear what his name sounded like coming from you? You felt so safe, dancing with him. Safe... and happy. This was the happiest night of your life, you thought. “... Di-“

The song ended rather abruptly. “Time to make our escape.” You linked arms with the prince, and the two of you wove your way through the crowd - your attempt to call to him forgotten for the time being. You moved as fast as your uncomfortable formalwear would allow. The night air was very refreshing underneath your stuffy clothes. You didn’t expect this and two dances to heat you up so much. “Care to humor a legend while we’re out here?”

“You want to go to the Goddess Tower..?” You asked very slowly, trying to guess whatever other thing he could possibly be meaning. Yes you two got flirty and handsy with each other without realizing it but this was a big thing to do with another person purposefully!

“What else is a pair like us supposed to do on the night of the ball?” He had yet to release your arm, and was already steering you in the direction of the structure.

THIS MAN IS IMPLYING WE ARE A COUPLE . Ladies Seminary once more saved your ass, as your outward demeanor did not betray your SCREAMING internal thoughts as you passed inside. “Do you believe in the legend, Your Highness?”

“I don’t suppose I really do,” he admitted, “but, all the same, there’s no harm in passing the time with silly legends.” He lead you to an alcove where the two of you could sit down, and it was only then that he let your arm go. “Tell me, (Y/N), what do you wish for?”

“I want...” Shoulder to shoulder with the prince, you thought for a moment. What did you want? “I want a world where... where people we love can’t be taken away from us.” Your mind had wandered to home, where your mother had already been buried, where your father was now, alone without his beloved. A shiver ran through you, the weight of your words were clear. If only you had begun your research sooner, perhaps you could have...

His Highness wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. This was not flirtatious. This was comfort. He knew what you meant. He knew better than many other people could. The loss he had suffered so swiftly, and so young... life could be so cruel. “How odd. I had planned to wish for something similar.”

You offered him a chortle, trying to brighten the melancholy you had gifted the room with. “We can’t have the same wish. Think of something else.”

“Putting me on the spot, are you?” He huffed, leaving a silence between the two of you for a long while. “I can’t make mine.” He finally spoke.

You turned to look at him. “What do you mean by that?” Even if it couldn’t come true, he could at least try to wish for it.

“My wishes are for that of reunion with those I care for. Promises that we'll see each other again and the like. I have no business making such promises for the future. There are certain things that I must accomplish, even if it means risking my life. I may not even have a future to promise to someone.”

“Who would you promise your future to, if you could, Your Highness..?” Not having a future? That was unnerving, to say the least. What did he mean by all that? He was to be crowned king - he couldn’t be putting himself in danger! You couldn’t muster yourself to ask him to elaborate on that part. That was a whole can of worms you didn’t not even remotely know how to broach.

“... You, but... Well, I can’t, as I said, but... there’s no harm in at least wishing that I could...” You were a little preoccupied processing that the fact that the prince had wanted to ‘promise his future’ to you . You didn’t notice his free hand come to your face, tilting your head up towards his as he gazed at you with lidded eyes. “I know at least this: I would be happy if I were able to see you again.” You were shocked by the gentleness he had for you. He pressed his lips to yours so softly, one would think he was worried you were going to shatter from his touch. Your first kiss, and it felt as though it had all the reverence and care in the world behind it.

He broke away from you first, snapping out of whatever daze he was in. “I apologize- that was uncalled for.” You hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss him back, and that seemed to be what unnerved him. You cut his stammering short, wordlessly initiating another kiss. You put a bit more force behind, showing him you weren’t going to break apart on contact. He got the message loud and clear. The hand on your shoulder shifted to root itself on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair already. You clumsily grasped at the front of his jacket.

His lung capacity was astounding. You had forgotten to breathe at all, in a brief panic, you turn your head away, chest practically heaving. “We’re... we’re good.”

“Do you remember what I said? About Fhirdiad?” His hands wrapped themselves around your own. “Please... please consider it.” You could feel it in the way his voice almost broke. He did love you.

You nodded, a bit slack jawed. “Of-of course... of course I would love to, Your Highness!”

He almost seemed to cringe slightly. “At a time like this, please, call me by my name.”

Okay. Okay, this was it. Permission granted. You could do this. “Di... Dimitri..?” You whispered.

His eyes lit up. How long had it been since someone close to him had called him by his name? How long had it been since a loved one addressed him personally? “Again, please.”

Far too long, it seemed. “Dimitri.” He quickly pulled you in for yet another kiss. Again and again, gentle pecks from the prince. Sadly, at some point, reason returned to your mind, and you realized, as you had each somehow lost a jacket, that you had no idea what the fuck you were supposed to do next. When the fuck did you start losing articles of clothing? You couldn’t help but let out a nervous giggle. “D-Dimitri, I- I- I don’t actually...” saying his name out loud still felt odd, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your words seemed to bring him to a sudden realization. “It just occurred to me... I’m not quite sure what I am to do myself.” That was a loaded statement from a man who was down to a dress shirt and breeches.

You couldn’t help but snicker into a full blown laugh. He didn’t know how any of this shit worked either! After all the completely unnecessary, though not unwelcome touching, and he didn’t know what to do! “Hey, hey maybe, maybe we should take it easy. We’re kind of in a holy site, after all.”

The absurdity of your situation seemed to dawn on him. “Oh, where are my manners?” He jested. “Perhaps we should get back before people start asking questions.”

Your insistence on maintaining a low profile for that particular evening made you inclined to agree. You both helped straighten each other out, buttoning jackets, fixing hair, doing your absolute damndest to erase all evidence of what happened. You went back to the ball, and flew under the radar by dancing with the Prince for as long as you were able.

The next few months were when shit genuinely hit the fan. Captain Jeralt was dead by the end of The Ethereal Moon. Professor Byleth received a revelation from the Goddess. And Felix Hugo Fraldarius got the biggest ‘I told you so,’ in human history. It was amazing how quickly things could go downhill, just when they were starting to look up again.

You would never forget, when those accompanying the professor into the holy tomb finally returned... Dimitri... that sweet, sweet boy who held you when your mother died, who danced with you for hours on the happiest night of your life, who you looked to as a beacon of kindness and hope of a better future for all of Fodlan - was cackling to himself, his face and golden spun hair caked in blood... Goddess knows who’s it was. The rest of the Blue Lion House looked shaken, even Dedue, who would never have questioned the prince and his motives.

Losing your mother was certainly what you would consider the worst day of your life. But that day, it seemed your dear friend had also perished in a way, making it a painful second. You don’t know who walked out of that cavern that day, but it wasn’t your Dimitri. You knew it wasn’t your prince when he finally settled down enough for you to speak with him. Whoever it was looked like him, but it didn’t sound like him. And that gaze in his eyes... it was deranged.

Hardly anything that came out of his mouth prior to that conversation made a lick of sense. You had to force him aside, and beg him to slow down, focus on you, and only then were you able to ask him what happened.

“Edelgard killed them.” He told you. “Duscur. It was her.”

Your composure began to fracture. Lady Edelgard was a child during the Tragedy. “Your Highness thats...” Absurd. You wanted to tell him that. Edelgard was definitely the one dressed as the Flamer Emperor, The Professor could vouch that much at least, but to say that a mere child had personally orchestrated that massacre was not possible.You needed to tell him that. You could salvage this. You could save him. But he would hardly hear a word from you edgewise.

You were the one who had cornered him for this conversation, but he quickly turned the tables when he had grabbed you by the shoulders. “I’m... I’m so close (Y/N). I finally know who did it... All I’ve ever wanted... all they have ever wanted is within reach. I just have to kill her - that’s all there is to do..!” Your heart shattered - all he ever wanted was vengeance? But did he not want you? And ‘they?’ Who the hell was ‘They?’ Good Goddess, he was hallucinating. Visual and Auditory Hallucinations - what could you do about this? He was completely psychologically broken, and you were getting upset over his feelings for you. Looking him in the eyes was complete agony. They were normally a lovely pale blue, calm as a cloudless sky. Now they were glassy, dilated, wide, darting around. And they were bloodshot. Had he been crying? Had blood vessels popped from stress? What the hell was this? What happened to your friend? “What are you crying for? We’re almost done here, there’s no need for that...”

You hadn’t even felt the tears moving down your face. You could do nothing but shake as he cradled your face with his gauntlets. There was no love in the kiss he gave you then. He left you there, wordless. Off to defend the Monastery. Or to kill Edelgard. Whatever one happened first. That was one of the last real conversations the two of you had together.

Or it would have been if you hadn’t woken up. You had been awake for about .2 seconds and you had already regarded being conscious as a huge mistake. The pain was misery. Your abdomen burned, nauseating you. Holy shit! You were alive! This was a hell of a plot twist, you would say. Last thing you remember was being carried away by Deat- Dimitri, after you were run through by a javelin. Your eyes fought their way open, only to snap shut. The light in this room was blinding. You didn’t even catch a glimpse of the ceiling. Your blood - oh cool you still had blood - pounding in your ears was deafening. Goddess this was awful. You could hear your throat wheezing as you struggled to breathe. Awful, awful, awful. A groan escaped you, though it was scarcely audible rasp.

“You’re awake.” A voice noted. Now that was a raspy tone. It was... Him.

You nodded weakly. You made an attempt to open your eyes again, but just ended up blinking repeatedly. It was still too bright. The inside of your mouth tasted like blood. You needed something to drink. “... water..?” You heard a grunt, followed by soft clanging of metal on the floor. A hand slipped underneath your back. He pressed you upwards quickly, lighting your torso up with pain. “Careful..!” You hissed, being sat upright. Just barely, you managed to keep your eyes open, seeing the room actually had the curtains drawn across all windows but one. The room was adorned with the bed you lay on, a desk, a blue rug, some extremely dusty books and swords around. This was an academy dorm room... You were about level with the Prince’s chest, who had sat himself on the edge of the bed to hold you up. You were pretty sure it was his chest, at least. He was obscured by large swaths of fur and fabric. He held up a water skin for you, which you managed a single sip from, before you started seeing spots from the aching of your stomach. That javelin fucked you up pretty badly, that's for sure. As your perception was clearing, you realized your stomach had been bandaged. Rather clumsily, but it was holding just fine. Seems like you had needed more than that vulnerary to stay functional. Had the prince..?

“What were you doing out there?” That was his first question? Not ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘Does it hurt?’ No. Right to the point.

“Traveling here-”

“Can’t hear you.”

Damn it all, couldn’t he give you a minute? You took another sip from the water skin. “I was trying to get here.”

“Why?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. So many questions... You could barely speak... A terrifying thought crossed your mind then. Your life was in his hands. He kept you alive this long - and he certainly didn’t have to. You were slightly obligated to answer him. “Research.” You had to pause and take a few deep breaths. “For Lord Frauldarius.” Oof, that four syllable name took way more effort than it should have.

He tsked at you. “Give yourself a minute.” The audacity of this man! Demanding answers from you, and then getting mad when you couldn’t give them to him coherently!

“Where’ve you been?” You slurred. You didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but... people needed him, and he hadn’t been there. “Dukedom said you were dead...” You brought a trembling hand to your forehead, trying to stifle the pounding in your skull. You were coated in sweat, and you were cold. Really cold. Blood loss be like that sometimes. The dukedom could say they had executed the crown prince all they wanted. No body, no proof. It was what kept the cause going. You looked more like a dead body than the prince did at present.

“Not far from the truth.” He grumbled. Well, he sure as shit was alive, even if he didn’t sound too happy about it. Maybe he did die, but he was so angry that he came back. With that hiss in his voice; that low, bitter tone, you would believe that.

Angry as he was, he seemed to realize that he needed to be very patient with you. He gave you a moment for you to catch your breath, and you were finally able to coherently explain yourself. “I’ve been working as a medic for Lord Fraldarius and the resistance against Cornelia and the Dukedom.” You managed that chunk without hyperventilating. “But the illness that took my mother is spreading through the troops and civilians.”

“So you’re here to finish what you started five years ago.”

“My background made me the ideal candidate for this mission.” You grunted from a pulse of pain. “I’m looking for Linhardt’s notes first.” That green haired sociopath. Brilliant, brilliant, lazy bastard. After your mother died, he had one of his weird fits of interest where he actually gets productive on something. That something was the mystery illness, and you knew for certain that he had made more progress on research than you did. “Do you remember Linhardt?”

“Imperial...” His Highness growled.

“Not quite. He sided with the church and the professor during the first battle, so he’s been exiled... Actually, most of the Black Eagles were exiled for following the professor, now that I think about it.” If you were lucky, his notes would still be here. And given that you had survived getting ‘donutted’ via a purely coincidental meeting, you were liking your odds. “I digress, I’m here for his research, among other things.” 

“You’re not in any condition to travel.” He looked you up and down, his glassy eye lingering on the bandages. You suddenly became very conscious of the fact that your blouse wasn’t buttoned correctly. He had to partially undress you to tend to you. Wow, you had been awake for less than five minutes and your mind was already back in the gutter. This was super not the time...

“I hope you’re not saying that you’d chase me off if I wasn’t in such a sorry state.” You finally managed to tilt your head up enough to look at his face.

“It’s not safe here.” ‘Stoic’ was too weak of a word to describe him. There was no concern in his voice, nor in his expression. He was simply making a statement, and it was somehow supposed to convince you to leave.

“This continent is a war zone. Bandits and scavengers are the least of my fears.” 

“Bandits and scavengers would have been your end if I was not nearby.” He was starting to sound upset in your direction, not just in general.

“And I’m very thankful for your assistance, Your Highness. I will gladly repay you as soon as I am well.” Hell, the worst he could do was kill you, and he hadn’t done that yet. Why not challenge him? “But, I will not leave until I accomplish my mission for Lord Fraldarius.” On the topic of being murdered... “Speaking of... I need to write him a letter so he knows I’m not dead...”

Or... You would have liked to do that. You looked from the prince to your hand. It hadn’t stopped shaking. You frowned. You felt the prince lowering you back down onto the bed. “Rest now. You can write later.” You could tell from his tone that His Highness was begrudgingly accepting your presence for now. Fine by you.

Chapter Text

Lord Frauldarius,

I am pleased to report that I have survived my journey, my lord. I will briefly have to suspend my research on account of an injury I recieved. As you predicted, the area surrounding the monastery is rife with hostile individuals. I am recovering well, and am currently under the guardianship of a sympathetic traveler with whom I am acquainted with. There is no cause for concern here. Should our situation deteriorate, I intend on gathering the literature I need, and fleeing to a safer location. I implore you to keep troops concentrated to the front, though I thank you graciously for offering them to me. I will resume my work in a few days time, in the meantime, please inform my father and friends that I am still in one piece.

Your faithful servant,

(F/N) (L/N)

Dutiful Medic of the True Kingdom Army

“Alright, hows this?” You took your quil from the page and handed the parchment to the prince, who had been watching you scribble like a hawk.

He scanned the page, glaring at it. “Why do you insist on mentioning me?”

“Lord Frauldarius needs to know why I can’t get to work immediately, but if I don’t reassure him he’s going to waste fighters coming to find me.” You had already explained this to him on the first draft - where you did not mention him by name, but implied you were with a former classmate, and were quite relieved to be with him - but the man in question had told you to rewrite it.

“If this letter is intercepted by the empire, they will send their forces to come look for me.” He pressed the paper back into his hands. By the look on his face, he wanted to shove it at you, but given your state, he was being gentle.

“I did not even remotely imply that it was you-” You took a shallow breath. Raising your voice was still painful. You leaned back against the pillows stacked so you could sit up right. This was tiring. “Your Highness, I have rewritten this letter three times now. I assure you, there is no cause for concern.”  You grit your teeth, and shoved your legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve wasted enough time. I need to send this to Lord Frauldarius.”

You had been resting for two days, hardly doing much other than attempting to patch the javelin sized hole in your cloak, penning that letter, and sleeping. His Highness had woken you up a few times to ensure you ate a bit of dried meat and fruit. Having him around you, finally, after five agonizing years of uncertainty was... not what you had hoped for. This reunion was bitter, not sweet. You were in constant pain, and he didn’t seem capable of emotion anymore.

You thought you were going to throw up the second your feet had weight put down on them, but you powered through. You had been in this dorm room long enough - and goddess damn it all, you needed a new shirtwaist before you went to town. The holes in the other one wasn’t worth patching, and unlike your dark cloak and skirt, you could very clearly see the bloodstains on the white shirt. You had limped your way to the door, with the prince trailing behind you, possibly curious, possibly worried, possibly neither.

“Where are you going?” He didn’t look well, if you were being honest. He was handsome - there was no questioning that. His hair was a beautiful gold - his jawline would make a sculptor faint, his rugged look felt like something out of a novel. His posture only hunched when he sat down, keeping him looking dignified as he stood. Also he was definitely over six feet tall now, and frankly, who doesn’t love tall boys? But he also looked like a complete mess. That beautiful hair was matted in several places. The eye patch was vaguely threatening, and the eye that was visible had a circle so dark underneath it, it seemed like someone had purposely dragged soot under his eye socket - like he hadn’t slept in months. He certainly hadn’t slept much to your knowledge. He let you stay in the bed, meanwhile, he rested with his back to a wall, and his eye to the door. The all black armor really didn’t help make him look any less intimidating, though admittedly that shit was sick as hell. And he was so pale, and so... angry looking. It was no wonder you initially thought he was a reaper of some sort. 

“Ingrid’s old room.” You grunted, trying to stay balanced as you opened the door and stepped into the hall. “Need a new shirt.” Knowing your dear, thrifty Ingrid, she had a few well kept blouses in her wardrobe, that had been left in a way to keep the moths away, and if you were lucky, she hadn’t grabbed them before the monastery was abandoned. You took a peek into the hallway. By the looks of the interior, you were on the second floor of the dormitory. You weren’t quite at the end of the hall, but a room away from it. The realization hit you upside the head. You hadn’t been staying in any old dorm room. It had been His Highness’. You had been staying in his bed.

You felt a gauntlet on your shoulder. “I’ll go first.” He shifted past you, a hand under his cloak reappearing with his short spear. 

You nodded, understanding why. There was a good chance that you two weren’t the only ones on the monastery grounds. And you were in no condition to fight. You walked yourself along the wall, the two of you creeping your way down the corridor. It was slightly terrifying how quietly the prince moved in his armor. Thankfully, you had made it to Ingrid’s door unscathed, although you were white as a sheet and sweating buckets. You were hesitant to try and cross the floor to go into the room, but you managed to shake your way in. The Empire did a really shitty job of raiding this place, if you were to be honest. They hardly touched a damn thing! Everything seemed to be where it was left on that day. That was promising in regards to the work of a certain hyper intelligent, narcoleptic layabout, and towards scoring a new shirt...

His Highness lurked in the doorway, keeping an eye on the stairs, and on you. You slowly made your way through each drawer in the room, blinking spots out of your eyes as best you could. “Jackpot..!” You grinned. Ingrid wouldn’t have fit in these shirts now anyway, she was way too buff! You looked over your shoulder and you were about to start unbuttoning what was left of your top, “Turn around.”

The prince was facing you now, his gaze flat, unfazed by your request, and his own words. “Why? There’s nothing new to see.”

Oh, if only ‘ ?!?!?!’ was a sound people could make. Sure, he had to partially undress you to bandage you earlier, but this was different, and it sure as hell wasn’t life or death. His words caught you off-guard. Was the heat on your face from blushing, or your sickness? “W-well-Well! You’re not going to see anything again, so go wait outside!”

He narrowed his eye at you, clearly annoyed, but he eventually yielded to your wishes, turning his back to you. “You aren’t well enough yet.” He grumbled.

“Say again?” You hollered, tugging on the new blouse. You hadn’t heard him very well over the sudden ringing in your ears. It was the same problem when you first woke up - it was so bright in this room and now your skull was pounding.

“Look at yourself.” Every word out of his mouth was... it was either devoid of emotion, or scathing with a hiss. “You can barely stand.”

Unfortunately, he was right. You had already taken to leaning against the shelving of the room, barely keeping yourself standing as you buttoned up your new shirt. You let out a heavy sigh, “I can’t spend another full day in that room.” You were getting bored. You were a medic, you knew you needed rest. But holy shit, you could only sew and sleep for so long before you actually felt like you were losing your goddess damned mind. “And I need to deliver the- I need to del-” You paused for a moment, slightly bewildered that you were out of air so soon. You took in several deep breaths, willing to argue your duty if you could make yourself able.

“We’ll go in a week.” He told you.

We? You’ll be damned, he really had resigned himself to you sticking around; more than that, he had accepted that you’d be sticking together. You huffed, “Fine. But I’m not going back to bed yet.”

This began your fragile routine with the Prince. In the morning, you would see how far you could walk before you exhausted yourself. His Highness would carry you back to bed, and while you rested he would repair his growing collection of spears and swords he had scavenged from the grounds, or he would patrol and chase off, if not outright massacre whatever hostile vagabond was foolish enough to wander too close. In the afternoon you would snack on your dwindling rations, and then he would bring you down to the greenhouse, which was thankfully still in tact. Your job was to try and use your recovering magic to speed up the growing process so the two of you didn’t starve. Meanwhile, he would go hunting, or do more scavenging.

Being around the prince was exceptionally unnerving. You had watched him slaughter so many people so effortlessly, and yet he found the mercy within himself to tend to your wounds, and you could tell by being around him that he didn’t understand why he saved you - and he definitely didn’t understand why he was staying with you. You imagined that tending to your stubborn ass was annoying, but he would never outwardly complain about any of it, even though he wasn’t getting much out of the arrangement. He clearly didn’t want to be around anyone, at all. He generally refused to face you directly. Conversations were curt between the two of you. You had a lot to say, things you wanted to ask, but you don’t think he would have answered them. He spent most of his time brooding in your presence, if he wasn’t doing something slightly related to keeping you two alive. But he also continually lurked around you, refusing to leave you unattended for too long. Maybe that was a good thing, because even in such a short time, you were already making trouble for yourself. You didn’t do much other than garden, so how could you possibly fuck things up? Easy. You refused to acknowledge your own limits, and you suffered the consequences of it.

The beautiful thing about gardening with magic, was that you could do most of it sitting down, which was almost forcing you to relax. You weren’t going to complain about that part though. Minimal effort productivity? Hell yeah, sign you the fuck up! But it was a double edged sword. You were never sure if you had over done it or not. There were a few occasions where you were unable to stand again, and you were stuck on the floor until the prince came to collect you or until the weariness passed. There you were, day four of seven until letter delivery, peacefully tending to your root vegetables while the prince went fishing. You had nurtured the produce all you could before it would become oversaturated with mystic power. You couldn’t do too much or it would do something crazy, like catch on fire, explode, or gain sentiance. But oddly, you weren’t tuckered out yet. You smiled, pleased you were on the road to recovery. The sooner, the better! Unfortunately, you didn’t have much to do now that the crops were tended to. Boredom was your current greatest foe, so you scanned the greenhouse. Perhaps you had missed something. You had blessed the hell out of the apple tree, so fruit was no problem. Chickpeas were fine... You hadn’t missed a thing in the way of food. But there in the corner... some wilted bramble sat. That wasn’t food it was... Gladiolus?

You pulled yourself and your little watering can over. What on earth were sword lilies doing growing here? Well, ‘growing’ was a strong word. Nothing you couldn’t fix though, for sure! You sent another blessing into the much needed water for the flowers. Maybe you could nurture some, and give them to the prince? It was a faint memory, but you feel like he used to be fond of this plant. Even if he wasn’t, you could always put them in a vase to make the dorm room less depressing. The stems perked a bit, your blessing successful. You smile persisted. You still hadn’t tired yet. You stood over your flowers, now directly healing them. By the Goddess did they look lovely. Pure white petals, stood together in the shape of a blade, the tips holding a slightly pink hue. Forget His Highness liking them, you liked them! Except for that odd splat of red that had appeared on the top bloom. That didn’t look right... Another appeared beside it. Then another, though this time you watched the crimson fall. It came from you. A nosebleed..? Uh oh. That wasn’t good. Oh. Oh, you fucked up.

The lightheadedness hit you then. Oh, you totally over did it. The watering can fell from your hands, landing on the stone flooring with a loud series of clanging. Good goddess that was loud. Yeah, you fucked up, you fucked pretty bad. Not wanting to go down at the speed of light, you carefully lowered yourself to the ground as best you could. The nausea hadn’t hit you yet, so that was a relief. None of this would have happened if someone who was actually good at gardening was with you. Like Dedue! Fuck, you missed that man, but judging by the fact that he wasn’t by His Highness’ side, that kindly man was gone. You tucked your legs beneath yourself and leaned on one arm. Your breathing became careful and deliberate. You dug through your skirt pockets, trying to find something you could use. Somewhere at the bottom you found a kerchief that you brought to your face.

Oof, that was a lot of blood for a nose bleed. Hopefully you weren’t having an aneurysm. That would be unfortunate. On the bright side, the Gladiolus was looking just lovely. Dedue would have been proud. There was another racket in the air though, and it was getting closer. That was the distinct sound of armor clanging from someone sprinting. His Highness burst through the doorway, spear at the ready. His eye darted to you on the ground.

“M’fine...” You attempted to reassure him, though it seemed a bit late for that. He was already on high alert, and you were slurring your words. You brought your kerchief away from your face. “... I’m fine.” You repeated, a bit more conviction and stability in your words, though it had taken a good deal of concentration.

Great, just great! You were just barely well again, and now it was all fucked up over flowers! And to make matters worse, his Highness’ face had twisted into a genuine snarl. “I’ve had enough of this.” The Prince growled. He stormed across the room to you, lifting you in his arms and carrying you out the door and upstairs.

You wanted to protest, but you felt tongue tied. ‘I’m fine,’ came out as ‘n’m fin,’ not exactly a good sign for you. What was going to happen next? Was he going to lock you in the room? Was he going to stop tending to you? Was he going to send you out of the monastery? The possibilities were troublingly numerous.  You needed to tell him he couldn’t do any of that! You had so much work to do here, but the words refused to leave your throat.

You continued to try and say ‘I’m fine,’ again, but the prince hissed out a, “Quiet,” As he set you down on the bed. You had it in you to sit up on the edge of it, and from that position you could see him rummaging through his old desk, tearing through every single drawer. He stomped back over to you, apparently finding what he was looking for. You gave him a puzzled stare as he knelt down before you and snatched one of your hands. He impatiently shoved a ring on your finger.

It was almost like an engagement ring, though this wasn’t a particularly romantic proposal, “What... what is this?” You asked him slowly. You were too out of it to blush. But you definitely would have if you weren’t in a state of mild delirium.

“It’s a Prayer Ring.”

“Where did you-“

He cut you off. “It’s been in that desk for almost five years.”

The implication weighed heavily on your rapidly beating heart. A memory surfaced. “Then what single item would you want on you in a battle?”

He had intended to give this to you years ago, and he probably didn’t even remember it. “Many thanks, Your Highness.” Admittedly, the ring’s magic was already working, and physically, you were feeling better. Emotionally... not so much. “I apologize for troubling you.”

He looked to you with that vacant stare of his for a moment. There was a split second where you could have sworn his gaze has softened, but it was cut short by the prince squeezing his eye shut, accompanied by a stifled groan. He stood quickly, and left without another word. You decided to lay down once more and rest. Not because you were tired, but because you were confronting a plethora of emotions that you were not even remotely prepared to deal with. 

What the actual fuck was that all about?!

He did not leave you, as you had feared. He certainly kept that uncomfortable distance between the two of you most days, but he never strayed too far. Here he was, walking you to the nearby village so you could mail the letter that he hated so much. There was a conversation that vaguely implied he was there to stock up on rations and vulneraries, but you held onto some kind of wishful hope that he had tagged along out of concern for your wellbeing. Realistically, you didn’t need an escort to go grocery shopping, but were glad to have him with you regardless. You had attempted to make idle chatter with him on your trek to the village below. “It looks like it may rain later.”

He said nothing. You weren’t entirely sure, but he seemed to be at a constant simmering rage. You ventured to try and come up with a cover story if a villager asked who you two were. A few good ideas were a merchant’s daughter and her bodyguard. That one had the least amount of lies behind it. Then there was a mercenary pair. That one was extremely believable in regards to the prince, not so much for your squishiness. You had the option of answering truthfully for yourself, if the villagers seemed like kingdom loyalists, but that left your companion’s alibi up in the air.

The prince’s suggestion was no fun. “Tell them to mind their own business.”

Buzzkill. Your face scrunched to a pout as you made our way into the village. Things were looking pretty rough here. Scorch marks of indeterminate age, ruins, rubble. Few buildings were untouched by the decay. You saw a few grimey faces watch you pass by from windows with drawn curtains that quickly disappeared if you turned your head to them. Other than that, the physical presence of village folk was scant. The only people you could immediately see at the market were vendors, who were doing everything they could to avoid eye contact with you. Now, that was a buzzkill.

You ducked your head into one of the vendors stalls, finding an older woman sitting next to a stand of cured meats. Just what you and your companion wanted to stock up on. “Good day, madame.” You greeted her with a slight curtsey, fully stepping in. The prince leaned himself against the doorway, keeping watch outside.

“Pull your hood on, miss.” The frail woman told you without looking at you.

“I beg your pardon?” You cocked your head, confused.

“Hide your face, young one. The raiders will come soon.” She kept her mannerism casual, going behind her stand to conduct the guise of business. “They come for young maids.”

You winced in understanding, tugging the hood of your cloak over your head. No wonder the whole town was hiding. “My thanks, madame.”

“Can your friend fight?” She asked, slicing up some dried meat.

“Better than most.” That was quite the understatement on your part, but you did not need to divulge the prince’s story.

She nodded in approval, “Keep close to him. They’ll come once the rain starts.” She wrapped the meat in a waxed cloth, and you exchanged some gold for it. 

You tossed the woman a little extra for her concern. “We will depart shortly, but is there a courier still in town going to the Kingdom?”

“The messenger lives at the end of the market road. His route goes through the Alliance.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Madame. I pray for your safety.” You stepped back outside with the prince. He quietly followed behind you as you went to the bakers stall across the street. You kept your voice low when you addressed him. “They’re predicting a raid, Your Highness.” 

“I heard.”

This vendor was a middle age man of stocky build. “Mornin,’” He hacked as you passed into his stall. Once more, the noble waited nearby. He was being cautious, keeping these people from observing his face for too long. “Did the butcher’s wife give ya the warnin’?”

“Yes... How long has this been going on?” You pointed to a sizable sack of flour behind the counter. You were going to need the prince carry this.

The man lifted the bag with a pained grunt. “Been bout’ a week since they got more aggressive like this.” He tossed it onto the counter for you. “Someone axed the one in charge, and now they come down ere’ lookin for a girl a few of em’ saw before it happened... ‘cept they’re attacking any maid they see now.”

Oh son of a bitch... Your stomach was creeping up your throat. Of course the bandits were looking for you and were tormenting the innocent in the midst of a war, because that was just what you needed. “You’d think a loss like that would put them down. How many are left?”

“Five or six, I think. Don’t worry too much. I think you’ll make it through just fine,” He said as you handed the baker his pay. He gestured to the man waiting for you. “Scary lookin’ bastard, ya got there, miss. That’ll keep em’ away from ya.”

You huffed, amused. If the prince had heard that remark, he hadn’t shown it. There was some levity to this conversation to be had after all. Or at least you thought there was.

“Wish the apothecary's daughter was in the same boat but... Poor girl.” The man sighed sadly. “Beat her within an inch of her life, the doc can barely keep her going.”

It was a gut punch for you. The brigands likely targeted her because they saw you use white magic. The nearest healer, thus potential white magic user, was the doctor, and the daughter must have looked similar to you. With the way it sounded, the doctor wasn’t a magic user. The apothecary was also on this street if you remembered correctly, perhaps you could go over and offer your medical assistance to the maiden. You turned to face His Highness to ask him to grab the grain for you, but he was currently preoccupied with trying not to look down at a child who had appeared before him.

“Oh dear, there’s the lil’ beggar. She ain’t scared of anything anymore.” The baker frowned, telling you in a hushed voice, “Her parents tried to fight off the raiders a ways back but...”

You had to hand it to her, she was brave going up to him like that. Her voice was suitably raspy for someone as gaunt looking as she was. She looked like she was around ten. “Spare a moment, sir?” He must have realized that responding verbally would have made him sound cold. He settled for looking down at her with a nod. “Y-you got anythin’ to eat sir?”

“(Y/N),” The prince called.

“Y-yeah?” You almost jumped. He hadn’t actually addressed you by name since you had first regained consciousness.

“We should get her something.”

You could have cried. Now, that sounded like something the man you used to know would do. He would have asked in a more eloquent way, but this was still pretty good. You could feel the grin spreading across your face as the little girl’s eyes lit up. “Of course.” You sent the kid on her way with the largest loaf of bread the baker had. She was welling up as she thanked you and the prince profusely.

“That was awful nice of the two of ya.” The man put a hand to his heart.

The smile had not yet left your face, but you did have more shopping to do. First things first, you had to get the flour. You were smart enough not to refer to him as ‘Your Highness’ in public. “Hey, Di-” ‘Dimitri,’ was not exactly a common name. You could feel his eye on you as time moved slowly around you. He didn’t want to be referenced in a letter, never mind having his name said aloud when there were imperials and brigands around. You had to think quickly - how could you cover this up? “-Dear..? Could you come grab this for me?” That was simultaneously the best, and worst save you had ever made. You had to keep the ball rolling if you were going to pull it off. Your face was genuinely flushing from your actions so you let out a very real nervous giggle. “I-I’m sorry, I’m still not used to calling you that!” You flashed the ring on your finger to the baker. That was honestly an amazing cover story all things considered; recently engaged... Actually kind of believable. “But, seriously, come carry this.”

The sigh the prince let out was so heavy, his entire frame shifted. But he did as you asked, effortlessly grabbing the sack of flour. You waved your goodbye to the stocky man, and you continued down the road. After a suffocating silence your companion finally spoke, “... Really?”

“I panicked, okay?!” You snapped at him as you approached the building you recalled the apothecary being in. There was a bad taste in your mouth as you saw the broken front window of the business. The front door was slightly off its hinges, as though it had been kicked in. You bit your lip as your chest tightened, “They were looking for me.” 

You stepped onto the buildings porch and pulled the door open gingerly. A middle-aged gentleman was seated behind the counter, his head in his hands, perking up as you walked in. He looked to be the same age as father... He cleared his throat. “Can I help you?”

“Good day, sir.” You did your obligatory curtsey. “I... I heard from some townsfolk that your daughter...” You struggled to not let your voice falter as the man’s face twisted with sadness. You extended your hand from beneath your cloak and you conjured a small orb of white light. “I believe I could be of some assistance.”

“I see.” He cleared his throat again. “And you?” 

You hadn’t noticed the prince actually following you in this time. “Vulneraries.” With the disparity in aesthetic between your quiet, but non-threatening persona, and his quiet, but seething with rage demeanor, the older man likely assumed you two were separate parties.

The apothecary spun on his heels, grabbing several bottles and slamming them down on the counter. “Now then, my daughter...” He ushered you behind the counter all composure disposed of, not bothering to make the prince pay, which the man in question accepted with an indifferent shrug. Thank the Goddess you had been functioning as a medic these past few years. The poor girl’s condition could have knocked out the faint of heart on sight. She was laid upon a chaise lounge in the back room, covered head to toe in gauze. You could hear her wheezing before you got close. Anything exposed to the air was in rough shape. Aside from the lacerations carved through her skin, the skin on her face was shriveled and red in some places, and flaking in others. Chemical burns . As if cutting her to ribbons wasn’t enough, they had thrown acid at her. Because of you.

They had definitely attacked her because she was mistaken for you. By the looks of it,  she was around the same size and build as you, and what was visible of her remaining hair appeared to be the same color and cut. You weren’t sure about your facial resemblance, given how much was- or rather wasn’t there. “What sustained the most damage?”

The doctor took in a deep breath, trying to put on the same level of professional calm you had. “She’s been cut up all around, but her throat and face in particular.”

That was concerning. “How’s her breathing been?”

“She can do it... barely.” He went to his child’s side, delicately grabbing an unbandaged hand. “Speaking is a difficulty.” The poor man definitely wasn’t a magic user. He wouldn’t have left it at this if he was. Vulneraries could keep you alive - but they couldn’t fix this like Restore could. Again, the man made you think of your father. The poor thing, without his wife, without his little girl, and ousted from his home.

“I’ll treat her neck first then. I apologize, I’m coming back from the brink myself. This is all I can do for now.” You knelt down next to the young woman, and glanced up at her father, who closed his eyes, and nodded to you. You extended a careful hand to her throat. Beneath your gentle hand was a glow of white light, a collection of sigils emanating from you, and beneath that the redness on the girls skin began to dissipate. Her wheezing began to quiet itself, confirming that you had dealt with the brunt of the damage to her windpipe. You hand trailed a bit higher to her scarred jaw with a surgical precision, before you pulled away. There was a slight pulsing at your temples, and you understood that this was all you could do for the time being. “... I’m sorry.” You blurted out. They might have taken it to mean you felt bad you couldn’t do more.

“No. Thank you very much. Every little bit helps, I assure you.” The old man had tears in his eyes, as he squeezed his daughter's hand.

“... Thank you.” She whispered, a smile gracing her cracked lips. The doctor's jaw dropped open.

“(Y/N). The letter.” His Highness called from the front. Maybe he could sense your guilt and had pitied you enough to toss you an escape line. You stood off the floor, curtseying to the family, and then fleeing to the side of your companion. You sped past him and out the door, before seating yourself on the porch steps. You jumped with a start as the bag of flour slammed down, before the prince sat himself beside you. “It’s not your fault.”

You let out a cough that failed to hide a scoff, that failed to hide a tearless sob. You needed a hug, quite desperately, but he was not the person who was going to give it to you. It was surprising enough that he was trying to give you any sympathy. “This... this sucks.”

“The rats will suffer for what they’ve done to these people.” He spoke to the empty street before him, not to you.

“Are we going to wait for them?” You asked quietly. You felt like you were intruding on a conversation, but by questioning him.

“Yes...” He pointed to the end of the road, perfectly within view. “Go find the messenger.”

You followed his gaze down the way. The path split there. On one side was a cabin, and on the other, a road, a few, maybe five or six fuzzy dots in the distance. You dropped the letter off at the courier’s office as a smattering of raindrops fell from the sky. The dots were coming down the road toward you now.

You kept your composure as you rejoined the prince, who was now standing in the center of the market with his arms crossed. “Pompous, aren’t they?” He seemed to be referring to the few figures on horseback with a banner behind them. It wasn’t any sovereign or noble symbol, more like a notice that it was that particular group. “Monsters...” You were inclined to agree with his assessment.

You could hear them letting out yips and yells from where you stood. A battle cry or a warning of some sort? It sounded pathetic with only six people, but you kept in mind that these six people were personally responsible for this town's present widespread misery. They kept on yelping and hollering until the band rode to a standstill about two doors down from where you waited. All six of them dismounted.

“You’re a mean lookin’ bastard, aren’t ya?” One of them spat toward the prince. His eyes darted to you next. His confidence implied he was the new man in charge. “And you... Well, you look much better in the daylight. We’ve been lookin’ for you, sweetheart.”

You weren’t going to dignify that with a response. With every word, every action, these men had dug their grave deeper and deeper. You felt a twinge of sympathy. After what you had seen him do the week before... There was no telling what His Highness was going to do to these foolish creatures.

“(Y/N), go guard the doctor.” You nodded your head, making disciplined steps towards the apothecary. You wanted a crack at the bastards, but you weren’t in the best condition for it. You’d leave it to the superhuman instead, and you’d stay and defend the public with what strength you did still have. One of the bandits made a step after you, cut short by the prince producing a silver sword from beneath his cloak, a find from the monastery. “No further...” He growled.

“And who are you supposed to be, cyclops?” The leader barked.

His Highness did not answer the question, “Leave. Now.”

“Piss off, cyclo-” He was cut off by his own screaming. With his off hand, His Highness had brandished his short spear, which he hurled through the shoulder of the brigand, knocking him back, the force of impact pinning him to the ground through the wound and weapon.

The prince’s attention turned to the bandit rushing him with an iron sword in the wake of his bosses anguished wailing. The bladesmanship was not the elegant and trained style you recalled of the prince. There was no careful attempt to parry, to guard, to dodge. He swung down on the vagrant so hard the blade was knocked from his hands. The momentum of his swing did not slow. The sword continued downward, cleaving through him at the crook of his neck, and across his chest. This was the first kill.

“Caius! You son of a bitch!” Watching his companion fall set off another bandit who practically threw himself at the raging noble. This one was a bit more heavily armored than ‘Caius’ had been, preventing the prince from felling him in a single blow.

“W-wait, Abel- He’s the- He’s the One Eyed-” This third bandit, the one who had dared attempt to walk after you ceased his warning to the armored bandit, and began sprinting towards you, brandishing a knife. “This is for the boss, you bitch!” He must have assumed you were an easier target to actually take out.

“Mereen! Forget the girl- fucking help me!” The leader screeched after him from his spot on the ground. You fired back a few weak cutting gales, slowing him down as best you could. You were just trying to deter him, but he was getting closer as your exhaustion made your aim sloppy. Your least favorite thing about this war was how mundane it was making death. The prince was obliterating these people, and all you could think about was how awkward it was going to be to deal with the townsfolk in the aftermath when you returned to see if Rodrigue had written you back.

“ Don’t you touch her! ” His Highness had swept ‘Abel’s’ leg out from under him, then gouged his silver sword into his neck where it stood perfectly upright as the noble quickly caught up to ‘Mereen.’ His body slammed into the bandit, sending the two onto the ground. “ Keep your filthy hands off of (Y/N)! ” The prince roared, throwing a punch with every single word. “ You disgusting bastard! ”

The remaining two bandits who were not dead or wounded attempted to blitz the prince as he stood off of Mereen’s corpse. Their blades had bounced off of his armor and cloak, throwing them off balance. In this time, the prince had grabbed them both by the hair, slamming their heads together. “ Don’t struggle. ” The two brigands groaned and screamed as His Highness hit them against each other several more times as he began to drag them back over to the bandit leader. A few more cracks of the skulls together, and they were gone. He dropped them near Abel, where he retrieved his blade from the deadman’s throat, promptly sheathing it. Their conversation was out of ear shot for you, but you watched the prince put a foot on the torso of the dying man. He reached down and grabbed the arm the spear had pierced through. Like he had plucked an apple from a tree, the arm came off. You could hear the man choking and sputtering, until it ended when the prince suddenly stomped on the man’s ribs.

That was all six. It was over.

You sprinted out into the rain to meet him, “Are you...” Your voice trailed off as the pleasure the carnage had given the prince came into your view. A broad grin plastered his face as he admired his work with you. His breathing was heavy as he reveled in his victory. You clasped trembling hands together as he threw the severed arm back toward the heap of bodies he had left in the street. “Oh... Oh Saints...” You had seen the aftermath of battlefields. You had seen dismemberment. You had seen disfiguration. But to see it by the hands of a single man... Disgusting.

The inhuman smile faded from his face as he looked to you. “(Y/N), you shouldn’t be out in the rain.” He murmured, “Let’s go back.” He strode back over to the porch and lifted the flour sack with one arm, and curled a portion of his cape over your head with the other. He was trying to keep you dry. It was a sweet gesture, except his face had been spattered with the blood of six men. The 180 in demeanor and behavior left you slightly gobsmacked. How could he just... decimate those people like that, and then come tend to you so soon after? Those monsters deserved it, certainly, but it was still a great deal to process. He had beaten one of them to death barehanded for you . The Prince you knew was truly dead, and whatever was left of him was this beastly individual. You nodded meekly and allowed him to lead you back to the monastery. You had the solace of knowing that the villagers would not be troubled again, but what a mess they would have to clean up... You hoped to the Goddess that the little girl from the bake shop wouldn’t see it.

You missed your Dimitri.

In addition to making you anxious as you progressed towards wellness, being around him made you... depressed, or perhaps melancholic was a better word.. You had tried so desperately to settle back into your routine with his highness, to find a semblance of normalcy in life. You had even begun to comb the library for the appropriate literature from your research, which you finally felt well enough to start, even without Linhardt’s notes. The prince had retained a few odd but pleasant quirks despite his present violent persona, and that left you all the more conflicted, seeing what you had. It was agonizing, hearing him speaking to people who weren’t there, growling at shadows, showing hints of his former self, and then showing nothing at all. He was genuinely unhinged, but for small moments there was a lucidity that gave you nothing but false hope.

It was little things at first. You found him in the captain’s quarters one day, post searching Manuela’s infirmary for what the physician had for diagnosis resources. He had smiled at the book he was pouring over, and then suddenly... you think he had chuckled. It did not sound like a laugh. This man didn’t remember how to do that. But his face had scrunched at the eye as he let out a few wheezing huffs of air.

“Your Highness,” you alerted him to your presence before stepping into the room, “What’s so funny?”

“I found the book Alois was writing his jokes in.” He shook his head, a small smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are just awful.” He allowed you to peer down at the journal,

I was going to make a joke about paper, but it was pretty ‘tearable.’

Did you hear about the man that was buried alive? It was a... grave mistake!

I was cleaning out the spice rack in the dining hall - everything was so old I had to throw it all out... talk about a waste of thyme!

You physically winced at every single one. “Goodness, these are really bad.”

“I know, and they’re all like that.” That soft smile was still there, until suddenly it wasn’t. His mouth flattened out, his eye glazed over for a split second. He looked up from the book, and stared ahead for a moment. “I... I know,” he murmured to the air in front of him. He put the journal down and fled the room. You didn’t see him for a few hours after that, but when he returned to you that night he was just as neutral and apathetic to the living as ever. He avoided you more during the day, now that you were functionally independent, only coming around to eat with you and in the evening to keep watch while you slept.

Sharing meals was a real kick in the teeth. It was when you were able to coax the most conversation out of him, and thus, more of his old mannerisms. More and more of that painful, fleeting lucidity that you craved to witness from him. Off hand, you had apologized to him for your cooking not being the best. You didn’t exactly know what went together well, only what was edible.

“That’s hardly something to apologize for. You are keeping us alive, that’s what matters.” His speech wasn’t dismiss for a moment, if anything, it reminded you of how he spoke before he snapped. “Do not trouble yourself over taste for my sake. I am unable to actually do so.”

“Wait, you can’t...” You squinted for a moment. “Ageusia..?”

“Correct. I cannot taste anything. It smells fine, I assure you.”

Your jaw dropped wide open as you let out an incredulous gasp. “Is that how you survived Flayn’s cooking?”

“Survived?” He questioned, “Was her cooking truly that awful?”

“Your Highness, she once used Ferdinand’s armouring oil as cooking oil!”

He blinked- er, winked a few times. “That is... concerning to say the least.” Times like these were a dagger to your heart. He behaved so close to how he used to, and then, it was like a switch was flicked, and he turned off, going back into his unfeeling state. You finished your meal, but the two of you had continued making nostalgic chatter for a little while longer. In the wake of all that had happened you almost felt happy. It was cut short as the prince suddenly stood from the table. “I- enough of this..!”

“Your Highness?” You rose and attempted to follow after him, concerned by the abrupt shift.

“They tell me that I do not deserve your company and pleasantries ... I do not deserve companionship.” He sputtered out, making broad strides, seemingly to get away from you.

“They?” You scurried after him as best you could. 

You nearly bumped into him when he stopped suddenly. “The dead. I cannot sit idle while they scream for vengeance.” He brought a hand to his head, tugging at his matted golden locks, suddenly crying out, “I cannot waste anymore time on your amity..!” He disappeared for two days after that, leaving you worried sick. It was up in the air whether he had left you for some other place, or if he was dead. On the third day, he reappeared carrying weapons. So very many weapons. Or rather trophies. Imperial trophies that he was going to turn against the very army he slaughtered and stole from. 

This little outing seemed to satiate his bloodlust for a time, allowing you to return to your routine, though it left you with a tightness in your chest. You felt indebted to him for what he had done. The absolute massacres he had committed were essentially in your name. And the time he had spent caring for you, when he clearly didn’t have to capacity to want to anymore. You thought you owed him, and by the goddess, you wanted to ease the pain in his mind.

The want weighed heavily on your conscience. There had to be something you could do for him. Something only you could do to help him find a semblance of peace. It was distracting you from your invaluable research. If it didn’t get resolved in the immediate future, you were going to have a break down.

You looked down at the ring on your finger. You had to find him. You searched the monastery grounds high and low, until you found him in the cathedral. You were worried whenever he was in here. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, who’s to say that rest wouldn’t follow suit while he was there? He was before the rubble covering the altar to Saint Seiros, staring into the void as he so often did, having a conversation with those long dead. “Do not look upon me with such scorn..! I will bring you her head- I will...”

“Your Highness,” You called from the end of the room, making audible footsteps so he wouldn’t assume you were an assailant. You were fully recovered, and you didn’t need another spear to the gut changing that. But you also didn’t need him wallowing in whatever hell he existed in.

He peered at you over his shoulder. “What do you want?” He stopped as you got closer, but he was unmistakably shaking before you got to his side.

Your lips parted for you to speak, “Your Highness,” You repeated, trying to buy yourself time to think of how broach this. “Do you... do you need anything?”

“No.” He told you flatly. “Go away.”

“Thats not- hold on, that’s not what I meant...” You clenched your fist. “Is there anything you would like as payment?” 

“Payment?” He parroted.

Fuck , that wasn’t the right wording either. You took in a deep breath. Perhaps explaining yourself first would yield better results? “You have... you have been very kind to me, Your Highness. You have cared for my wounds, shielded me from those who have wished me harm, and have guarded me when I have not been able to do so myself.” 

He just stared at you, waiting for where this was going. He did not speak, but his gaze said, ‘And..?’

“Out of fairness, I would like to do something for you in return.” Ah! Now those were the words you were looking for! “Is there something that you want that I can attain for you?” You didn’t need him telling you to bring him Edelgard’s head - that was beyond reason. You could maybe land a single punch on her if you had made it passed her army and guards by pure luck, after that, she would have probably would have personally curb stomped you.

He sat and watched you in silence for a moment, studying you, trying to dig up false intention. You were trying not to squirm under his glare. Mercifully, he finally answered you. “Sleep with me.”

“I already sleep in your bed.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew horrifically well that was not even remotely what he was implying. The innocence that your response was loaded with made the prince express something outside of indifference or anger. He looked shocked. Dropping dead was a preferred alternative to him continuing to look at you. “Oh Good Goddess, that’s not what you mean at all.”

Chapter Text

He sat and watched you in silence for a moment, studying you, trying to dig up false intention. You were trying not to squirm under his glare. Mercifully, he finally answered you. “Sleep with me.”

“I already sleep in your bed.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew horrifically well that was not even remotely what he was implying. The innocence that your response was loaded with made the prince express something outside of indifference or anger. He looked shocked. Dropping dead was a preferred alternative to him continuing to look at you. “Oh Good Goddess, that’s not what you mean at all.”

The prince collected himself much sooner than you did. “I mean in the sense that I-”

You cut him off immediately, your face getting redder and redder by the second, “Yeah- no, don’t worry I know- I know what you mean.” You reached up to your own face and pinched your cheek. Unfortunately this was not a dream. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck you. What fucking planet were you on? What was this? How could this be the reality you were in?

“(Y/N),” He snapped you out of your mild panic. “You can say ‘no,’ I’m a monster, but not of that nature. If you don’t want to, I will not force you.”

“Is that what you want, Your Highness?” You needed confirmation on this. Hearing it another time would have confirmed that this was real life. “You want to sleep with me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” You asked, fighting down bewilderment.

“Beasts have needs, do they not?” Ah, what a romantic response! Thanks Your Highness! His directness was a repeated kick in the teeth. You were having trouble fathoming how he could say all this so bluntly, constantly. Everything he said devoid of feeling, or just being angry. How could he exist like that?

Seventeen year old you would have lost her shit from this conversation. This was so far from that sweet boy you remembered. Despite the internal screaming, you were handling this remarkably well. “If that is what you want...”

“It is.” The bluntness was striking.

You gulped. He still had blood in his hair. How could he be thinking about any of this? How could he ask for intimacy from when he was covered in death and decay? “When do you-”

“Tonight.”

“Ah...” Your eyes widened. The sun was already going down. ‘Tonight,’ was soon... Really soon! The words slipped out as you continued to stare at his bloody locks, “We should get cleaned up first then.”

That garnered an actual reaction from the prince. “What do you mean?”

You struggled to think of a way to politely tell the man that he was basically feral and was extremely dirty and scary looking. “Your Highness, when was the last time you had an actual bath, as opposed to just splashing your hands and face in a stream?”

“I had to ford a few rivers to get here.” There was not a hint of sarcasm or humor in his voice. Seiros’ sake, man...

“Oh good goddess- that doesn’t count!” You had gone from bashful to offended within a split second. “If you are laying a single hand on me, you’re taking a bath first!”

He narrowed his eyes, annoyed. “Fine.” Thank the Goddess!

The two of you reconvened at the sauna a few hours later. It was kind of amazing how the monastery was built. In the dead center of all three major nations, and right on top of a hot spring. How convenient . The sauna was split down the middle. On the left side was the aforementioned sauna, and on the right side was the bath house, kept naturally clean, warm, and running by the spring. It was a cozy room, lit by a series of oil lamps, and the midst of it was a square thermae, about three feet deep. You were floating on your back in the water, giving yourself some time to think. You had dug up a chemise and a pair of knee length bloomers to use as impromptu bathing suit. But like all articles that weren’t the aesthetic portion of the official uniform of the academy, it was white cotton. You could see your skin through the top the second it became over saturated with water. You were straight up not having a good time. It was bad enough that submerging your scarred stomach into the water caused it to ache a bit, now you were partially exposed. Life was really trying to embarass you. The more you thought, the more you flustered yourself. You were going to have sex with the prince. Cool, sounds great, except was this man really him? Not really. Not to you, anyway. This one eyed beast was still quite a specimen to behold, and sometimes, sometimes , he acted reminiscent of the prince you loved so deeply. Thinking about this made your heart ache. With a sigh, you stood in the water, and waded to the partially submerged bench. On the side you had left a few cloth towels and towelettes, a change of clothes, a pitcher, and some soap you had found. You set about scrubbing your arms, your hair, and your face. You were slightly appalled with yourself for not having bathed sooner. You had been covered in sweat, dirt, and your own blood for well over a week. That was just nasty - a woman of medicine like yourself should have stressed the importance of cleanliness more!

You heard the door of the bathhouse open and close, and you reflexively crossed your arms over your chest. There he was. This was the first time you had seen him in something other than the cloak and armor since your reunion. He was in a renaissance shirt and breeches. With how ruffled he was, he looked so... common. Maybe in another life, you and your dear prince had both been commoners. Maybe there had been no war. And maybe you had been together normally in that life. Not now though, not in this time. He was a fallen royal, future king of a country that was barely there, and you were some random merchant's daughter playing paramedic. Life sucks like that sometimes.

His presence meant that he was actually going through with all of this. He meant what he said. He removed the shirt, but spared you the rest of the show for the time being as he lowered himself into the water. Thank the goddess, because you were not ready yet. Not even close. You watched him dunk himself under the water, and then resurface quickly. He flipped his drenched hair back, like he was going to pull it into a ponytail, which looked... really good on him. Maybe you could convince him to do that sometime. “There, done.”

You blinked at him. “Done?”

“Yes.”

“No you are not!” You were beside yourself. He could not be serious. He wasn’t clean, now he was just covered in wet grime instead of normal grime! “Are you allergic to soap? Get over here!” You stormed over to him as fast as the water would allow you to, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to the bench. Done? DONE?! That was nearly as absurd as the time Seteth had asked Manuela what a ‘dilf’ was in front of you! Nearly. You don’t think anything would ever top that. You hadn’t quite realized what you had done until you were there, but damn it all, you were in too deep now! You sat yourself on the edge of the basin, your legs still in the water, still holding the prince’s hand as he stood in front of you. 

His eye was fixated on your grip. “... Your hand is soft.”

“Thanks... I think..?” It came on suddenly, but you felt a strong thudding in your chest. You tried to shrug it off, grabbing some soap. You wrapped it in a cloth, and you began to gently scrub his arm.

“Why is your heart beating like that?” He asked you.

You stopped scrubbing. “My heart..? You can-“

“I can hear it, quite loudly. Something is making you anxious.” He said, an all too apparent edge of suspicion in his voice. Apparently these past couple weeks and the proposition of sex wasn’t enough for him to trust you.

“Well, I’m not exactly used to bathing with others, Your Highness.” Your face flushed as your positioning dawned on you. He was almost standing... between your legs. No wonder he could hear your heart thundering away. “And I’m certainly not used to people saying weird things about my hands.”

He seemed to accept that response, and turned his head to the door. He let that become his new fixation. You took this time to indulge yourself a bit, and you studied him. He was beautiful. ‘Toned’ was a nice word to describe his body, but you could have also used ‘muscular,’ ‘well-built,’ and ‘Absolutely fucking shredded,’ Every muscle was well defined, like a carved sculpture. Except the sculpture was blemished. His entire torso, his arms, a bit of his neck - they were covered in scars. You imagined his back was in the same shape. So many deep gouge wounds, cuts, stabbings; the scar tissue was a darker hue than the rest of his skin. It was everywhere. You restrained yourself from reaching out and touching them directly. You resumed scrubbing, taking care to not open any wounds of his.

“What are you looking at?” You had made your way up to his bicep. It felt like a rock. Holy shit. You were trying to keep your thirst level to a minimum, but it was taking a lot of your strength. Running a hand across his abs was still a tempting thing to do.

“Keeping watch.”

You frowned, keeping your work up by his shoulders. “I wish you could be relaxed for a moment. If someone tries to ambush us, we’ll fight them all the same.”

“... You’ve haven’t killed anyone yet, have you?” It was then that he let go of your hand.

That felt like a non-sequitur. A very scary one. “I’m a medic, Your Highness. I’m not here to end life. I haven’t had to mercy kill anyone yet either.”

“Then you don’t understand what I’m watching out for.” The graveness in his tone was frightening. “Monsters do not care that our guard is up or down. Beasts will attack regardless.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t wrong. It was conceivable that some low-life could break in, and try to harm you while you two were exceptionally vulnerable. But at the same time, he had handled the biggest threats in the area. It wasn’t very likely. You had worked your way up to his neck, which you stopped the second he growled at you. Like actually growled. Like a beast . It caught you off guard - had you nicked a scab or something? “What’s wrong..?”

“I could do all this myself.” He raised a hand, as though he was going to take the cloth from you, but he faltered when you fired back.

“Will you though?” He fell silent again, and lowered his hand. “We should probably wash your hair too. Can we take off your eye-patch?”

“That’s not necessary.”

 “Your Highness, there’s... there’s still so much blood in your hair. We need to wash it.” Your face scrunched up with concern, the frown you had been wearing this whole time deepening. “If anyone comes through that door, I’ll turn them to dust.” You attempted to reassure him. “We’ll be alright...”

The prince kept quiet as he turned to look at you. He tugged his eye patch off his face, the strap ripping out a few strands of that matted golden hair. It furthered your resolve that this was a necessity. He dropped it behind you on the edge of the pool.

You fought down a whimper. You hadn’t seen the wound in some time... five years, almost. It was still there, but grey - useless to him. The gash ran across his eyelid, through the iris and pupil, and a bit into his cheek. Oh, if only you were there to help him sooner... “Does your eye ever hurt?” You scrubbed some soap to get nice and bubbly in your hands, than ran it through his hair, trying not to stare longer than natural curiosity would allow.

“No.”

He hadn’t felt the pain when he lost it either. Likely as a consequence of the Crest of Blaiddyd. You remembered the day it happened. The day the monastery fell. The chaos. The bloodshed.

You had been barred from fighting alongside the knights and the officers. Manuela had drafted you to the field hospital instead. You were needed. Everyone who could use healing magic was needed. They had sent those like Mercedes and Marianne to the fighting, because they could work better there. Anyone that they missed ended up near you, at the safe distance that civilians like you were expected to maintain.

The troops you were treating weren’t in the worst shape. Those in the absolute worst conditions were already being evacuated. This just wasn’t a fight the Knights of Seiros were going to win, and it seemed everyone had known it.

“Medic!” A familiar voice shouted. “We need a medic!”

You burst out of your tent in a panic, “Claude?!” Thank the Goddess, he was alright. He had someone hanging off his shoulder, spattered with crimson. It was Dimitri, “Oh Goddess... Bring him in here!” You barked.

“Not... yet! Dammit, not yet..!” The Prince growled out through grit teeth. He kept trying to pull away from Claude, but he really was at his physical limit. Half of his face looked like it had been dunked in red paint, all of it coming from the gash running vertically across his right eye... or what was left of it. That was hardly even the worst part though. You could see arrows sticking out of his body, tears in his clothing showing more and more lacerations and stab wounds. 

He should not have been alive.

You and Claude had even struggled to hold him down so you could actually treat him. He just kept lashing out against you. He had even landed a punch to the young duke’s face. The prince had only ceased to resist when you screamed his name. It was then that he became quiet and still, passing out after looking at you with what could be something between panic and regret. You immediately set about removing shrapnel from his skin, weapons from his body.

How the fuck was he alive?

You laid him down and you did your best to patch each individual wound on his body, taking care of the essentials first. But that meant you had left his eye for last. By some miracle your magic had reconstructed the tissue. You had to pause the process to clean the blood from his face so you could actually see what you were doing. Your work had repaired the eye lid, but you did not know if he could see anymore. You lifted him into your arms and bandaged up his face for the time being. If you couldn’t fix it, you could at least prevent it from getting worse.

You had done all you could.

You held him close for a moment longer, knowing in your heart that this was likely going to be your last chance. You put him down so he could rest. “What about you, Claude? Are you hurt?”

He put up his hands. “I’m fine thanks to this reckless idiot.” Big talk from a guy whose jaw was starting to bruise.

“What... what happened out there..?” You tried to hide your voice breaking. You went over to him, and healed his face. Other than that, he was practically unscathed.

“(Y/N) I’ve never seen anything like it. He just... he kept fighting. Someone would get a hit on him - he’d kill them before they could blink, and then another would come in thinking they could finish him off... but they couldn’t. He- he wouldn’t die...” You looked to him and saw that Claude was shaking slightly. “He just wouldn’t... I barely got him out, he-”

You couldn’t bear to see these mannerisms from someone who was always smiling, no matter how bad things were getting. “That’s enough, Claude. Please. Go rest.”

He nodded, his composure returning to him as your worry became more apparent. “... Make sure he’ll make it, yeah?”

You can’t help but feel that you failed Claude’s request, in a way. “I’m glad it doesn’t bother you. I don’t suppose it impacts fighting much either.”

“It doesn’t.” Well at least he was taking the loss of depth perception fairly well. Then again, he’s had plenty of time to get used to it. You kept pulling his head down to lather his hair. At some point, that must have annoyed him, because he had leaned down a ways, a hand on either side of you, just to get you to stop.

“Good, good.” You brought your sudsy hands away from his head. The bubbles had gone from white, to a rust covered tint. You dipped your hands off in the water and filled the pitcher in the basin. “I’m going to rinse your hair out now, okay?”

“Keep an eye on the door.” He grumbled, closing his own.

Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the door, just to ease his mind. You had to rinse a few times, running your fingers through his hair to press out the orangey suds, and to at least try and deal with the knots. By the time you were done, he looked pretty good, all things considered. Now it was just a matter of cleaning his face up, which was still marred by some spots of muck and some stubborn blood. “Almost done, Your Highness.” You had hoped telling him that would prevent him from questioning why you were going to touch his face. You don’t know why that was making you nervous. You were both already partially undressed, and you had your hands all over him to begin with. You gave another glance to the entrance, and picked up your cloth again, gently rubbing it to his cheek. Goddess, even the blind eye has a circle under it... He looked so tired. You were already cleaning him up, how else could you help him? “Your Highness?”

“What?” He was being terse to the point of irritation.

The idea was already forming in your mind. You could use this situation to further force him into actually performing basic self maintenance. “Your Highness, if I consent, you must promise me something.”

“I’m not good for promises.” He had only now opened his eyes, as he responded to you with a new quietness in his voice. He certainly wasn’t good for promises, you knew that well enough, lord fucking come back to Fhirdiad with me... Oh. Oh, that was bitter. Where did that come from?

“You need to be for this one, or I won’t allow this.” That certainly got his attention. You made your request of him,“You need to stay the night. You won’t go running off somewhere when we’re done.”

He was just so much bigger than you. Even in the water, with you on the edge, he still looked down at you, though he wasn’t making eye contact, “Why are you asking this of me if this is what you’re offering to repay me?”

You flushed. “This would... this would be my first time, Your Highness. It’s a rather vulnerable moment for a young lady... not to mention,” you gently dab your cloth on his cheek again, trying to play that part of the conversation off as best you could, “you look like you haven’t had a good night’s rest in quite some time. So, I’d be happy if you stayed with me.”

He continued to avoid your eyes, he simply stared down at your chest, unfortunately visible due to the wet shirt, though it wasn’t to ogle. The distance in his gaze implied he was hesitating. “... Fine.”

For the first time since you got here, you stopped frowning. This was a relief - he might actually get some sleep! You seemed about finished, so you set your soap and towel aside. You were quite satisfied with your work. He almost looked taken care of, if you said so yourself.

“Are we done here?” It occurred to you then where the prince was in relation to you. His face was about level with yours, and the fact that he was basically bearing down on you was quite noticeable. And he was close. Really, really close. Like you could feel him breathing close. Also, one of those hands had shifted to your thigh, and you don’t remember when that happened. You felt your face heating up.

You were going to have to get used to that very quickly, you knew. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Stop calling me that.” He almost snapped, but he said it a bit too softly for it to be that. He must have realized that he had startled you, because he suddenly parted to give you space. “See you upstairs.”

“R-right...” You watched him grab his eye patch and a towel, then stride across the basin, up the stairs. He threw his shirt back on, and left you to your own devices. You took a moment to slide yourself under the water so that you could scream in relative peace. You were really going to fucking do this! Really? Were you seriously going to sleep with him? Something about it felt off to you. He had asked you to do this, but the man was also speaking to people who weren’t there constantly. Was this okay? Was this right? You weren’t exactly indulging yourself in this, no matter how attractive you found him - hell, this entire situation was leaving you beyond flustered, so were you really getting anything out of this other than paying off a perceived debt?

You resurfaced, not at all feeling more confident for what was going to come next. You more or less put yourself on autopilot. You dried off, put in a solid effort to brushing your hair out, swapped into your nightgown, and then let your feet guide you to the Prince’s room.

You gave a light knock on the door and and called, “It’s me,” before you let yourself in, closing and locking the door behind you. You didn’t need any trespasser interrupting the two of you - you were already going to be embarrassed enough as is. He was sat at his desk running his fingers through the remaining knots in his hair before you two locked eyes. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He stood wordlessly and crossed the room, and before you knew it, your back was to the wall. You would have hit your head if he had not grabbed you by the hair. The kiss you were getting from him wasn’t like the loving but clumsy one he gave you back then, and it wasn’t like the one devoid of all feeling you received before the battle for the monastery. You were feeling something behind this alright, but it wasn’t love. There was a starved want in it all. It was heavy, not particularly concerned that you had yet to reciprocate. He had grabbed you by the wrist, holding you still for a moment, and then pressing you to the wall, harder and harder. He let you go eventually, noticing you had more or less stopped breathing. “Do you not want this?”

“I’ll be alright.” He was still keeping you to the wall, still lording over you, leaving you gasping for air - and he had barely done anything other than kiss you! “That was rougher than I was expecting,” You admitted.

“Sometimes I forget my own strength.” That was an admission of a mistake, you supposed. Getting a straight apology from the prince, or whoever this was, wasn’t likely. You sincerely doubted he remembered how to actually say ‘sorry,’ This would do for now though, given his current state. Small steps and all. “I will do my best to restrain myself.”

“Much appreciated.” You reached up to hold his cheek, before giving him a gentle peck on the lips. That’s all you really knew how to do. After losing him the first time, you hadn’t gotten to that level of intimacy with anyone else. You didn’t want anyone else. You were at least trying to signal to him that you were willing to continue. You were two consenting adults - that was most important. He wanted this and you were true to your word.

Your soft smooches were not enough for what he wanted. You felt something brush against your lips, once, then twice. Is that his tongue..? It was. Oh shit. He did it a third time. You were a goddess damned adult, you knew what he was trying to do. You understood intimacy on a few different fronts. Medically, of course, you sure hoped you knew what was going on there, otherwise you probably shouldn’t have been a practitioner. On paper, sure, sometimes the books you read got saucy - again, you were an adult, and you were entitled to whatever you wished to view, so long as it was legal. But in person... You had lost your first love, and you didn’t want anyone else, so you were never with another. Here your darling was. But it also wasn’t him. You had a choice to make. 

You parted your lips for him.

You knew he would stop if you told him to at any time. This was not a point of no return, it was just another thing you were going to need to get used to very quickly if you intended on upholding your word. And you did. He tilted your head up to get at you easier, his tongue sweeping against yours. You closed your eyes. That's what people did when kissing a lover, right? He stopped pinning you by the arm, and shifted to hold your hip, pulling you into him. He felt so warm to the touch. He was always warm, except for his hands. His hands..? He wasn’t wearing his gloves or a gauntlet. You had completely glossed over it in the bath house. His fingers, tangled in your hair and the fabric of your nightgown, were freezing. You could feel it through the cloth. Your own hands had shifted from his face to his neck and shoulder, and you could feel his pulse now too. It was absolutely racing like your own heart was. Maybe you two were in the same boat?

That was a big maybe. The way he was handling you didn’t imply the same amount of nervousness that you felt. Gone was the sweetness and shyness you recalled from him. He was groping you. That hand on your hip had shifted to your backside, pressing your body against his, squeezing you. You were running on adrenaline, while he was running on instinct. You could feel his tongue sweep the inside of your mouth one more time, when he suddenly broke away from you. “You need to breathe.”

Your eyes snapped open. You had forgotten how to do that. You attempted to stammer out an explanation for that, but you suddenly lost your grasp on language.

“Ah, first time, right?” You somehow managed to nod. He returned an unimpressed ‘hmph,’ to you. “Fine...” He said that to you a lot, didn’t he? ‘Fine.’ It was begrudging most of the time. Impatient. He seldom complained to you about anything. He’d just sigh, ‘ fine,’ and he’d move on. He wasn’t going to give you another suffocating kiss - you clearly needed air. Was he disappointed? Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. It didn’t seem to be much of a roadblock to you when he began to bunch up the fabric of your dress, pulling it up further and further, and-

You had no intention of stopping him, but a bit startled, you blurted out, “Y-your Highness-”

 “They all call me that... all of them. You’re alive - you can do something different.” He cut you off, “Say something different.”

“W-what..?” You were slightly taken aback. However, you recalled him never enjoying his title. “Your h... what should I say..?”

“Say my name.” He tugged on your hair, tilting your head to the side.

He never liked his title. Just like at the goddess tower... He never liked his title. When was the last time you saw him truly happy? He never liked his title . It was when you said his name. “Di... Dimitri.”

You felt his lips on your neck, and you knew that there was the ghost of a smile on his face. You may have even felt a hum of approval in his chest. He liked that... “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing, I was just... surprised.” You hesitated with your answer. You could feel his bare hand on your thigh, having worked its way up the skirt of your gown. It felt even colder now by contrast. You were getting warmer. You felt a bit of pressure in your core, but it wasn’t the old wound acting up again. It didn’t hurt, it was just... a heaviness.

“If I am hurting you at all, you must tell me to stop.” His fingers lightly trailed around your thighs, slowly dragging between them.

“I will...” Oh, that was what that sensation was! Blood roaring in your ears, face red as a rose, and the space between your legs was slick. According to the medical community, this was ‘arousal.’ According to you, this was ‘new.’ You bawled your hands in the fabric of his shirt, trying to keep your squeals and gasps to yourself. Containing yourself was a challenge due to obvious reasons. He was being gentle with you, but nevertheless, he was teasing you, in and out, in and out. You couldn’t help but wonder where he learned how any of this worked, but you weren’t exactly in a state where you would be able to ask. Way too embarrassing. No thanks. You’ll cross that bridge some other night.

Wait. Another night? Well, well, well, you were planning ahead now, weren’t you? Quite bold for someone who could barely stand at this point. Your legs shook beneath you, forcing you to lean into Dimitri more and more. On the bright side, you had figured out how to breath again, so despite your exceptionally fast heart beat, you probably weren’t going to pass out anytime soon. You were close to something, you just didn’t know what it was. Actually, that was bullshit - buddy, you knew what was coming.

And then he bit you.

It was a love bite, you think. And it broke you. You clutched onto the man with a yelp. You felt your pulse in every part of your body, and then, he was the only thing holding you up. “I-I-I think I...”

Dimitri hardly waited for you to finish your sentence before he lifted you up only to throw you down on the bed. It was his turn now. You bounced with a small ‘oof!’but were held down on your back by his sudden weight. You caught his eye for a moment, though he quickly averted his gaze. He had re-bunched the skirt of your gown up, once more exposing you for him. Oh. Oh fuck. You were really going to do this, weren't you? Really. Really. Really doing this. No title. No crest. With the prince. You were going to do this. This was going to happen. This was going to happen. This was-

“(Y/N).” That low, unintentional growl in his voice snapped you from your thoughts.

“Dimitri..?” It still felt odd addressing him again by name after all this time. He had pried your legs apart, forcing them open for him to be between.

“Now...” You didn’t need to look to know his breeches had been undone. It was time. He was looking at you now. Right at you. Right through you. He had a hand on each side of your head, bearing down on you. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Curls of blond not quite obscuring him from your view, you reached up to play with them. Your answer given, he entered, gently. He studied your face for a moment, saying nothing. His brow had furrowed. Oh, was he worried? “I’m okay.” You reassured him. He had wanted to ask you if you were alright, but that was just something he wasn’t capable of anymore. He let out a breath, seemingly relieved.

He handled you like he had upon your first kiss. Like a piece of glass that could shatter upon the slightest touch. It was endearing, really. Far gone as he was, he had enough concern to spare for you. His strength must have frightened him during his moments of lucidity. Was this lucidity? It was a possibility. His inconsistent stare had many things behind it. Lust mainly, but he was lacking that beastial frantic darting you had expected of him in his heightened state. He moved slowly for you at first, wanting you to get a feel for him. It only kinda crossed your mind that he could literally shatter your bones at any given moment. But from what it seemed, he really didn’t want to hurt you. He kept watching you, waiting to see a negative reaction, but none came. Content with this, he bowed his head into the crook of your neck once more. 

His silky hair brushed against you. You couldn’t help but giggle, giving him pause. Those soft, clean blond strands - they tickled! “... S-sorry. Your hair is nice and soft.” He acknowledged you with a grunt. He nipped at your neck again, eliciting a slight moan from you. Apparently he was through talking. He still kept his hands off you, instead clawing at the bedding under you as he moved deeper and deeper into you. The restraint was appreciated. You were still reeling from your earlier climax, you didn’t know how you would have handled him if he wasn’t holding back for you.

You let him do as he liked for some time, opting to try and muffle yourself. You found that you kept closing your eyes, covering your mouth, trying to cool down your face with the back of your hand, though to little avail. And then, as he lapped his tongue across your skin before biting you again, you found your hand in his hair, pressing him into you. This was going to leave marks on you. That was fine. You don’t know why you found that to be so - bruises were generally a bad thing - but just this once, it would be fine. Wait, there was a word for this wasn’t there... Hickey..? You managed to not bust out into laughter. You had a few friends who would have made fun of you for that, for sure. You may have accidentally pulled his hair a few times while you mewled under him. It felt... nice, to have him in you, you thought. You weren’t in pain, thankfully due to his gentleness with you - and to the continued arousal you felt.

He had picked up his pace, noticeably, and force wise as well. He had been as far in as your body could allow, and he continued to be for each movement in and out of you. You prayed that this was making him happy, or at the very least it was bringing him some form of pleasure. It was, as far as you knew. He didn’t object to you holding him, letting you finally feel how built he was. His abs were absolutely solid. You could consider your earlier curiosity satisfied. For the first time in all of this, you heard him let out a noticeable groan. It dragged you out of your stupor. He’s going to... “H-hey, Dimitri...?”

He gave you another grunt in reply, making you a bit nervous. Was that in enjoyment, or in acknowledgement?

You would have loved to have this discussion be a bit more polite, civil perhaps, but you didn’t have the capacity to think about wording, what mattered now was making sure he didn’t... “Don’t... n-not inside, okay?” You had been a blushing mess this entire time, but saying that brought it to a whole new level. Not your brightest hour not thinking about this when you were down to the wire. It was still a good save.

He took in a heavy breath, pausing for a moment, “Understood...” He didn’t go back in to neck you again, giving you a bit of distance so he didn’t get carried away so close to finishing. You could feel his breath burning against you - more intense than you had ever heard from him outside of fighting. Turning your head to the side, you could see his arms almost twitching as his hands gripped the sheets harder, a husky sigh escaping him. He had left you, something spurting onto your bare thigh.

He lowered himself against you, your foreheads pressed together, his eyes closed shut. Which was probably the best for you. You were experiencing a sizable hell storm of emotions and feelings, but embarrassment was taking the cake. ‘Flustered,’ was not a strong enough word. You really did that! Was that really the best course of action? Should you have allowed this? You weren’t concerned about your ‘virtue,’ or whatever - you were an adult, you could do what you wanted - but - him. Him. Was this... okay? Was he even all there?

“(Y/N).” He called you to attention with a low whisper.

“Y-yeah?” You came out of your own mind, seeing the prince had opened his eyes once more.

“I liked this.” He told you rather bluntly, positioning himself next to you in the bed, instead of over you. “They’ve quieted down.”

They? The dead. He was referring to the souls of the damned that tortured him. Even if it was only temporary, you had quieted the voices that were causing him anguish. Was that not what you set out to do? Do him a favor? “I’m glad.” It wasn’t going to, but it would have been nice for it to last him forever. You could not, nor was it your responsibility to ‘fix’ this broken man. Instead, you did what you could to help him help himself, that’s what counted. You felt your stomach drop as he sat up. “Don’t leave...” You snapped up after him, taking him by the arm. He couldn’t leave you now. Not now. You needed him to stay so you knew you hadn’t done something wrong.

“I told you, I wouldn’t.” He hadn’t waved you off, though his tone held a slight air of dismissiveness. He grabbed the blue quilt at the base of the bed, and draped it over the two of you, laying you down.

Your doubts were satiated for the time being. He would not leave you for now. You had done as he’d asked of you. With your emotions still in utter disarray, however, you leaned forward, and planted a kiss on his forehead. There, in the room faintly lit by moonlight, you swore you saw a pale red dusting the prince’s cheek.

Chapter Text

You woke the next morning due to a combination of factors. Firstly, the early rays of sunshine creeping their way through the window. Secondly, a strange, intense warmth you felt over most of your body, being almost too toasty to be perfectly comfortable. Thirdly, there was a particularly irritating dull ache between your legs that you did not care for in the slightest. You didn’t even know why that would be happening-

Oh shit.

Despite your panic, your eyes opened rather slow, your mind still groggy, and your body too tired to cooperate. You found you were about level with the prince’s neck, his arms curling around you, and with that, the absurd amount of heat the man’s body produced.  And your hips hurt because he had fucked you. Yikes. You felt his gentle, even breath in your hair. You could not ruin that by snapping away from him in a flustered frenzy. He was sleeping well and soundly for the first time in goddess knows how long - do not fuck this up. DO NOT FUCK THIS UP! You bit down on your own lip, fighting back your emotions. One of his arms was under you, supporting your head, his hand gently wrapped in your hair. The other one was over your body, resting on the small of your back, and keeping you close to him. In his grasp, your worries began to fade away. You were both at peace. His heart rate felt so normal. You could have stayed like this forever. You faded in and out of sleep a few times from there. Each time you stirred you verified that Dimitri was well, and when that was confirmed a smile graced your lips and you would go back to snoozing. You wanted to prolong this as much as you could. Also, you didn’t want to be the first to wake up, because this man could one shot you if you spooked him by moving too much in such a vulnerable state.

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?” The prince asked into your hair at some point.

His voice startled the fuck out of you. You didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t exactly see your face, and you hadn’t moved too much, so how did he know you had woken up? “Didn’t want to wake you...” You answered with a yawn. That was fair. He was 100% the type of person to go for the throat of anyone who would wake him unexpectedly - and you knew damn well he could crush a windpipe with minimal effort, even by accident.

He pulled back the arm under your head. “We need to get up.”

“Can’t we sleep in just a bit longer..?” You asked softly.

His fingers hesitantly stroked across your side, as though he was going to try to pull you in closer, but suddenly he tensed up and retracted his hand. “No.” He sat himself up, turning away from you. “There’s work to be done.”

You sat up after him, “Ah... right...” you tried to avoid sounding disappointed. The obvious distance he was trying to put between you so soon was disquieting to say the least. Then again, he had already created some distance the evening before. Even as your fingers tangled in his hair, and he buried himself into you, he refused to look at you. That was quite a contrast to waking up in his arms. It made you sad. 

You lagged getting up after him to get dressed. He seemed to notice, “Did I hurt you?” He was speaking entirely in the physical sense.

You chortled, “My hips hurt, but other than that, I think I’m alright.” You were slightly amused - he had simultaneously asked in the most direct, yet indirect way if he had fucked you too hard. After five years of war and misery, it was nice to recall that you occasionally had the sense of humor of a twelve year old and/or Sylvain Gautier at any point during his life. And it was also nice to know that Dimitri cared enough to ask if you were alright - so he DID care.

You had intended to at least chat with him, ask him if he slept well, but he was already out the door. The two of you left it at that for a while. He was right, there was work to do. He had imperials and bandits to track, and you had a lot of reading to do. Like A LOT. Like you had really been slacking on this shit and it was biting you in the ass A-FUCKING-LOT. You were moderately justified in your reluctance; it was fairly defensible from a certain way. Not having Lindhardt’s notes yet was making things much more difficult than necessary. Days of research was taking a lot out of you. Between Tomas - or whoever that man who stole Tomas’ visage was rearranging the library for who knows how long, and Seteth removing anything the church didn’t approve of from the archives, finding the material you needed was damn near maddening. And even when you found something promising, there was no guarantee it held relevance to you, it was natural that you wanted to skim through readings - but you also didn’t want to skim because you might have missed something essential if you did. Somehow, there was too little, and too much to comb through at the same time and it was driving you insane. 

Sometimes you’d read some fiction books to try and break the monotony, things Ashe or Ingrid had recommended back in the day, but so many of them used the phrase ‘pregnant pause,’ and something about it killed you. What the fuck did that mean? Who the fuck fucked the pause? What the fuck? At some point you had just had enough. You needed to scream. You were thoughtful enough to go warn His Highness of your impending breakdown. You found him at the training ground, sharpening all of the lances he was likely going to break over some unlucky bastard’s sternum within the next few days. “Hey, Your Highness, I just wanted to give you a heads up.” You were a bit too far into the sentence to realize you didn’t call him by name as he preferred.

You hoped your phrasing didn’t make him nervous. This was not the type of person who enjoyed surprises, but ominous warnings could put him on edge regardless. He didn’t even look up at you, however. “For what?”

“My work is killing me, so I’m gonna scream bloody murder to calm myself down. I wanted to tell you first so you didn’t think we were being attacked or anything.” You were trying to be courteous and rational about what you were going to do, but as you spoke, you realized you sounded a bit insane, ‘ Yeah I’m mad, so I’m going to have a super loud break down, haha, can you relate? ’

His expression showed no signs of concern, no signs of confusion. Nothing. Although you imagined on the inside that he was puzzled. “Do as you please,” he nodded, getting back to his weapons.

“Wonderful. I’ll get back to it when I’m done. I’ll try to come down for dinner!” That was how it was every night. You’d work until you were sick of it all, and then you’d get started on food. It worked well for you. Something about cooking was so soothing. He returned a grunt of affirmation to you. You left to go screech until you didn’t think you would be able to speak anymore. It was exceptionally cathartic, but you don’t think it would replace cooking as one of your key forms of stress relief, not too mention, you probably frightened away every living being within a five mile radius of the monastery. 

Every day and night, you informally prayed to The Goddess and Saint Seiros for something to ease your workload, something to speed up your research. People were dying, and you were not progressing quickly enough, and then, it seemed your unorthodox prayers had been answered. In the library, on the tips of your toes, you reached for another promising tome on medicine. You did not have a tall gentleman around to lift you off the ground at your disposal. The closest individual fitting this criteria was yet to be seen that day, and he was a bit too feral to be considered a gentleman by contemporary definition. So, reaching as far as your limbs would allow, you just barely managed to get your fingernails around the spine of a book. Not wanting to lose it, you yanked it down, and since your grip on it was not existent, it launched itself spine first onto the top of your head. “Ow, fuck!” You clenched your eyes shut, biting back more curses, and when your eyes opened again, there were two books on the ground instead of the one you were expecting. You quickly brushed off the possibility that you just gave yourself a concussion, because the two books were distinct from each other, rather than them being perfectly doubled.

The larger book was the leather bound medical treatise you were looking for. The other book was smaller, but slightly more decorated. Upon picking it up, you saw the front cover was ordained by a tanned seal of the Crest of Cethleann. Your eyes widened, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, you flipped it over, and there on the back was the coat of arms for House Hevring. By complete accident, you had found a set Lindhart’s notes, and based on their hiding place, this was the exact book you were looking for. You were so excited you were almost shaking. This was it. Even if he got bored halfway through, this notebook held more information than you would know what to do with for some time.

Your heart sank when you opened the notebook. Lindhart used to fail the rest of his peers by not participating in group work, and now he was failing you by actually writing in hieroglyphics. The bastard. It was decipherable, but not without concerted effort directed to each individual word. If you were going to utilize this work, and you NEEDED to use it, you were going to have to transcribe his notes into something you could read.

And that’s exactly what your miserable ass was going to do. After resting your head against the bookshelf, holding back tears for a good fifteen minutes, you took the notebook, brought it to a table, and you set about rewriting the entire contents of what might as well have been a different alphabet. It was decided before you even began that you were going to uppercut Lindhardt von Hevring the second you spoke to him again. You sat, hunched over your papers for hours and hours and hours. Your only break in the hand cramping monotony was getting up and grabbing a candle from another table in preparation of the setting sun, and at some point, pages deep into your copying, lighting the candle. You rested your head on the parchment, intending to take a small break. Instead, you fell asleep.

You came to with the candles extinguished, burnt down to the candlestick. You felt a heavy weight over your shoulders, groggily, you reached up in the darkness and felt fur around your collar. It was so warm... You had no idea what time it was. You blinked yourself awake, conjuring a small white light in your hand. Damn shame you couldn’t dim the harsh white light... You blinked more, acclimating to the shine. You looked at the warm cloth covering you, finding it to be a brilliant royal blue. It was Dimitri’s cloak. You stumbled to the window, far from awake, and practically drowning in fabric, and looked to the sky. It was pitch black except for the moon. That was frustrating. It could have been anywhere between seven PM and seven AM. Regardless, you definitely missed your usual dinner time, which worried you. Had the prince remembered to eat at all? Had he come looking for you when you did not appear? He must have come by, and found you out cold, which is why you had his cape. You briefly considered rushing off to go find him, but if it was really that late then you ran the risk startling him - which was horrible for many reasons.

You took your seat back at the table, still sleepy, but willing to think about what to do next. It was then your little light shone on all the things scattered around your workspace. There were books, and quills, and parchment, and... an apple. That wasn’t there earlier. Then again neither was the cloak, leading you to only one conclusion. Dimitri had gotten these things for you. That was more like that sweet boy you missed so much. Sometimes the handsome grouch you were currently involved with was actually pretty lovable.

Oh fuck, you still loved him.

Those were feelings you probably needed to bury. You stayed camped out in the library until dawn, and then you went off to find His Highness, give back the cloak, and pretend most of this hadn’t happened, but he was nowhere to be seen, and neither were a few of his lances and swords. It didn’t take much brain power to figure out that the man was off doing what he did best - hunting the Empire’s forces. You tried not to mind it too much, concerned as you were. The less people Edelgard and Cornelia had to throw at the Kingdom Resistance, the better. Meanwhile you got to hang out in the massive cloak, which trailed on the ground after you. A bit childishly, you were having a blast running around and letting it flow in the wind behind you. It certainly passed the time between research and gardening. You had even found the time to take some of those Gladiolus flowers that you stupidly could have died for, and you found a few vases. You set an arrangement in the library on your work table, and another in the window of the Prince’s room. Two places that certainly needed to brighten up a little. You were doing small things like that all over the place to avoid a creeping sensation of melancholy.  You even braved the extremely awkward trip into town by yourself to check for a reply from Lord Fraldarius. The townsfolk were grateful, but absolutely terrified of what your companion had done. You left quickly to make it less uncomfortable. The letter was short,

Lady (Y/N),

I am pleased you are well and safe. Your father was relieved to hear from you as well. I trust your acquaintance is treating you well. If they are not, you should have no need to worry. The reunion at the monastery is soon. Felix and the others will arrive and will gladly assist you. Best of luck with your research. We’re counting on you.

Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius

The Shield of Faerghus

The reunion had completely slipped your mind. It wasn’t a particularly practical thing to stage in the midst of a war.

Dimitri returned the next evening, around sun set, once more coated in blood and dirt. You had been taking a nap in his room when he barged in. Thankfully, you weren’t trigger happy with your magic, and you did not nuke the man with Aura, startled as you were. Seiros, Cethleann, and Cichol, I think I’m having a heart attack! You had attempted to ask him if he was okay, and all you got out of him was, “There were more than I expected.” He dropped his weapons by the door and slumped into the chair at his desk. He wasn’t telegraphing any major injuries that you could see, meaning he definitely won whatever battle he was returning from.

“More of who? Bandits, or Imperials?” You asked, sitting up, and shrugging off his cloak. You had been using it as a blanket, but there was no time to sleep when he was looking like an absolute mess.

“Both.” He set about undoing his gauntlets, and greaves. “It seems the rats we killed were managing the presence of new ones.”

You did not like the use of ‘we’ in his reference to the brigands who attacked you and the townsfolk. That massacre was all him - but that wasn’t the point being made. “Killing them created a power vacuum...”

“And there are more of them now, yes.” He undid the cuirass next, and with that the rest of his mail came off too, leaving him in his undershirt and leggings. “More beasts to deal with later.”

His armor gone for the time being, you could see bruises forming near his collar bone, his arms, and as you studied him more, his face. It must have been quite the brawl if there were that many marks left on him. You sat yourself on the edge of the bed and you used restore on him, a few of the discolorations faded from his skin.

He looked up to stare at you. The blankness in his eye was difficult to face, but at this point you were getting used to the nothingness. “That was pointless.”

You’re welcome. You rolled your eyes as you got out of bed, crossing the floor to get a good look at him as he kept watching you. By trade you were bloodied often enough, but being so annoyed you, and you usually washed up at the first opportunity. You could hardly fathom how he never appeared to care how sullied he was. The heavy weight in your chest you got whenever you looked at him for too long forced a sigh out of you. “Let’s get you cleaned up...” You offered him your hand, and he took it without much argument. You briefly recalled his odd fixation, and decided that you could use that to ease him enough. You hadn’t intended to let him have you again, nevermind in the bath house instead of a bed, but that was how it turned out. You had finished washing the blood from him, and then he was bearing down on you at the edge of the pool, groping at you, his lips to your neck. “O-oh! Did you want to..?”

“Yes...” As before, he would not look at you like this.

“Alright then...” Whatever helped him sleep at night, you supposed. You indulged him for a while, coming to realize that this seemed to help him process his atrocities. What troubled you about this time was the fact that as soon as he was done, he redressed and left without so much as a word. It was perhaps a necessary wake up call for you. You might have been struggling with your renewed affection for Dimitri, but there was the very real possibility that the feeling was not at all mutual. He may have only stuck around last time because you expressly asked him to. You had done no such thing this time.

In allowing him to bed you, you had unintentionally created a routine for him that happened to coincide well with your own in the sense that it did not get in the way of your research. It was your very own twisted picture of domesticity together. He would rest for a few days, gather weaponry, go ‘rat hunting’ as he preferred to call it. And when he came back days later, you would help him wash up, and then you would have sex with him in the evening. On the third occurrence you told him he couldn’t leave you when you were done. As per usual, speaking to him and standing against his dismissive tone was rather disheartening. “What purpose does that serve?”

“I don’t like feeling used, Dimitri!” You totally did not mean to snap, but it had been a long time coming. You contained yourself quickly, as always, recalling seminary, but your anger had shifted to hurt as a result. “You never even look at me...”

“And if I am just using you?”

“Then this stops right now.” Given the awful thing he just said, the anger came right back. Your hands came to your sides, balled into fists. “I think I’ve returned the favor. I don’t owe you anything else.” That was the truest thing that had ever left your mouth. You did not owe anyone anything. Including, but not limited to anything involving your physical form. Frankly, one’s body is never owed, and you’d do well to keep that in mind forever more.

The softness in his tone that followed surprised you. “I had no intention of upsetting you.” He hesitated greatly when he did it, but he reached down for your hand, brushing a gloved finger against it. “I’m not using you... of all people, not you...” There was an apology on the tip of his tongue, you could feel it, but you knew he couldn’t actually say it.

“So, you’re going to stay with me from now on?”

He nodded slowly, going from brushing your hand, to actually holding it.

You let out a huff of relief, Oh thank fuck. You had no idea what you were going to do if he said ‘no.’ Out of respect for yourself, you were going to call off your arrangement, absolutely. That was without question. You had been more worried about him rejecting your presence following such a heartfelt moment. That would have hurt too much for you to have solid clap-back ready.

When you had bedded that night, you had woken up in his arms in the morning. Painfully regardless, you were thinking more and more that you loved him again. You kept telling yourself you couldn’t for a lot of reasons. He wasn’t that boy that you used to love, and he didn’t seem capable of loving you back to name a few. You were doing a pretty shit job talking yourself out of it, if you were going to be honest. Even if he avoided you as soon as you were both awake enough. Even if it seemed as though he wanted nothing to do with you the morning after. You loved him. He watched over you. He protected you. And even when he didn’t want to, he respected your wishes and he listened to you. Those were beautiful qualities to love.

The fourth time is when the routine broke, when a step was removed for you. You had finished a more fruitful day of research, and were on your way out of the library when you saw him round the corner. Back alive and well-ish from another hunt it seemed. He was dressed in his plain clothes, and his hair appeared damp. To your shock and awe, you realized he had cleaned himself up without you. That’s some crazy ass progress! As he approached you, you noticed one of his arms holding the other near the bicep. He did not greet you like you would greet him. He just cut right to the point. “Do you know how to relocate a shoulder?”

Your eyes widened. That was a very concerning way to start a conversation, even more concerning was the fact that his presence meant he had been actively looking for you. “Why..?”

His head tilted towards his left shoulder, gesturing to it. You hadn’t noticed it before, but it was distinctly more limp than his right. It was clearly out of its socket.

You knew he didn’t sustain an injury like that after getting back to you. He would have come to guard you if someone suspicious came by. He had to have been hurt before then, “Did you bathe and get dressed with it like that?!” You asked him, completely bewildered by the implication that he had been injured, and just ignored it.

He nodded. “I didn’t notice it.”

“You didn’t- Dimitri!” Oh, how the fuck did he not notice it?! You knew he had a high pain tolerance, but come on! Dislocation can cause damage to the muscle tissue surrounding the bones - there is no way that it wasn’t stinging. “What is wrong with you?!”

“A few things, honestly.“

Smartass! You scoffed. “Bah, be quiet, we need to fix this!” You dragged him back to his room, and sat him down on the edge of his bed. You were so glad he didn’t try to pop it back into place himself. He would have put way too much force behind it, just making it worse. Relocating a shoulder is actually a very gentle process. You pulled up the chair from his desk, and sat in front of him. “This might hurt a bit, but bear with me...”

 As gingerly as you were able, you took his limp hand, and very slowly raised it up in front of him. He looked at you with boredom, then impatience. His brow was starting to furrow.

Oh fuck, no. You were not going to have a conversation where someone questions your fuckings YEARS of medical experience because they can’t wait five minutes. “I have to keep it here to realign it into the socket, okay?”

He narrowed his eye at you, but went back to neutral soon after. You had only started recently, but you were getting quite good at predicting his actions based on his very subtle facial expressions. He could keep a resting murder face all he wanted - you knew the complexities by now! Technically, once you had the shoulder realigned, you were supposed to put his arm in a sling, and he was supposed to go rest, and hopefully not damage his muscle tissue further. But knowing him he wouldn’t accept being idle, period. Nevermind being down a limb while he was at it. With a glass-like caution, you placed his hand back in his lap, and began to use Heal on his shoulder itself - speed up the process so he wouldn’t complain, and actually deal with some internal issues you may not have been able to see - internal bleeding and all that gross shit. “How’s that feel?” You asked him.

“Fine.” He answered flatly. You frowned at him. You at least hoped he would try moving it around to make sure it worked. He seemed to notice, prompting him to add. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s good to hear,” You failed to stifle a sigh. “Any other bumps and bruises you want me to take a look at?” You learned that his shoulder was definitely functional again, because he lifted his shirt over his head, throwing it off. His torso was around fifty percent bruised, fifty percent unbruised. His arms weren’t in much better shape. “What am I going to do with you..?”

He tolerated you touching him as the white light sigils emanated from your hands around his body. You only indulged in getting to feel his abs a little, because despite your thirstiness for this man’s absolutely solid muscles, you were a professional. He kept silent as your fingers trailed around his arms and his chest. In the peripherals of your vision you noticed his thumb twitch when you lightly grazed his neck. You understood how great his restraint was for you. For five years, his instinct kept him in perpetual fight-or-flight mode. Any contact to the neck could mean someone was striking there. Instinct likely told him that’s what you were doing. And yet he trusted you enough to get this close. Enough to not lash out at any given moment. Hell, as your hand moved up to his face, it felt as though he was leaning into your palm. “Your neck is bruised as well.” He spoke up out of nowhere.

You blinked a few times. He couldn’t possibly be referring to the hick - based on where his gaze was, that was exactly what he meant. “Um, yes... you gave me...” Nope. Nope. Nope. “That’s what happens when you...” Aaaaaahhhh!!!! “You bite me a lot.” A coherent and complete explanation finally escaped you, though it lacked any and all eloquence.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really..?” You couldn’t help but sound like you were questioning. Like, yeah, biting someone is bound to hurt just a wee bit in general, but it wasn’t a bad pain when he did it.

The uncertain tone of your response seemed to bother him a bit. The ghost of a frown tugged at the corner of his lips. “Do you not like that?”

This madman was out here asking you if you liked neck-biting, and it was sending you into a fucking internal hell-spiral. You had no idea how to answer that question, because you yourself were struggling to come to terms with the fact that it may have been a turn on for you. You had slept with this man three times, and he was still making you blush. “I-I don’t mi-...” You took a breath to collect yourself. Were there things you would rather he do? Yes. You wanted another gentle peck from him - a shy, careful kiss like your first - the one that made you feel more loved than anything else in the world. You weren’t oppressed to him biting you. Far from it. “I don’t mind it.” You reveled in how he lapped at your skin, before nipping at you. How much his breath warmed you. How he buried himself and muffled his delight in you. It was proof enough that you were giving him something he wanted. He wanted you. Just... maybe not in the same way you wanted him. 

You stood from your chair and looked down over his shoulder. His back was just about as purple and blue as his stomach had been. You sighed again. You hated his disregard for his own safety so much, it almost made you angry. But that rage was trumped by other things. Exasperation, fear, and so very much sorrow. Your hands slipped down to his shoulders and you began to work on his shoulder blades and his spine. The way you were positioned, your arms wrapped around him, it all only occurred to you when you felt his grip curl around you. You stood between his legs, his head to your chest.

Oh. Ohhh! He was hugging you!

You tried not to immediately acknowledge it. There was a good chance he hadn’t realized what he was doing, knowing him. You kept on dealing with the physical damage as best you could when you heard him mumble into you quitely, “Thank you.”

You weren’t entirely sure you had heard him correctly at first, because you were quite sure he hadn’t thanked you for literally anything since you got here. As the weight of what he said dawned on you, you could not help but smile. “Happy to help...” You had to lean on him a bit closer to get to his lower back from where you were standing. It was then you felt him rather effortlessly lift you into his lap. That shit had you straight shook. Like, he just had his shoulder relocated, “Dimitri, you’re injured!”

“But you’re working on that, aren’t you?” Oh that coy bastard! Given this type of banter, he must have been pretty lucid today. He had you sitting with your legs on either side of him. Your blush hadn’t even faded from before, and he was putting you in a compromising position. But, damn it all you were a professional! You kept on working your magic. You would humor whatever teasing this was later. Or at least you planned on that! You were heavily distracted by his tongue lapping against your neck. “You don’t mind, right?” He asked you lowly.

“Really?” Good goddess he was brazen! Could he just let you patch him up first? “You’re just insatiable...” You grumbled. You would have preferred to continue chewing him out, but with you straddling him, the sexual tension he had single handedly created was a little too high for you to think of anything clever to say further.

He might have been covered with scars, but as for recent injury, he wasn’t looking too bad. Just a little longer... His hands, which had taken that brief moment to cradle you somewhat tenderly were sliding down your body. One stayed curled around your hips. The other went lower, coming to rest on your backside.

“Dimitri...” You needed to focus. You were almost done. The lights and sigils flickered off underneath your fingers each time your concentration waned. And they were flickering quite a bit! Firstly was when he copped a feel. Second, and third, and fourth, and so on was when he pressed your hips into his, only to let you slide back a bit. It filled your core with that heavy sensation you were becoming more and more familiar with. “I’m not done...” You somehow manage to say without your voice breaking on you. You were yielding to that motion he was having you make, almost doing it on your own.

“There’s no rush.” He shot back. The hand still wrapped around you stroked up your side. It came between you two. You could feel it fidgeting by your collar, then go lower do the same. He was unbuttoning your blouse.

“You’re so impatient...” you attempted to scold him. Your hand moved to the last bruise you could see on his hip bone. You had almost added ‘Your Highness’ to it, but you didn’t want to upset him. Not even in a ‘you were afraid he would get mad and he’s an absolute powerhouse’ kind of way. But much more in a ‘you kinda just had a nice moment, so even if he cut it short, why would you go out of your way to do something you knew would almost insult him,’ kind of way.

“Am I?” He nipped at you as another button came undone.

“Terribly.” Your healing finished, you brought your hands to his shoulders and you sat yourself up straighter, pulling your neck away. 

You watched the gears turning behind his stare as he followed to look at your face. He had even paused grinding you against him. You had just pulled his favorite spot away from him - an exceptionally bold move, coming from you. 

“You couldn’t even wait thirty seconds for me to finish fixing you up.” You spoke with a good deal of confidence in your voice, though your reddened face failed to match. It was amazing you managed that much. 

He had such angelic features, marred and cold as they were, and you were level with them. The years were kind to him, solely in the aesthetic sense, outside of that, no, time had been horrible to him. But you could not help but miss the warmth that used to radiate from things like his smile. You still took in the sight while you were able. As things escalated more, he would go back to necking you. He seemed to have trouble looking you in the eyes. This also meant that you rarely got to kiss him. You wouldn’t say it made him nervous, but there was definitely something going on mentally that made him purposely avoid it. 

You decided to seize the opportunity at hand. One more act of soft affection before you were ravaged as per usual. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, your eyes closing soon after. You weren’t one to push your affections too hard, but you dared to bring one hand into his hair, those soft, golden locks, trying to pull him into it more. He was so pleasantly warm in your arms.

He let you have at it, using this time to undo the last buttons of your blouse. He tugged it off your shoulders when you broke from him for a moment. Your undershirt and shorts gone soon after. Most times he had accepted you keeping relative modesty by having your nightgown stay on. On this run through he had stripped you down to your skirt. He hadn’t even let you cross your arms to cover up. He had grabbed your hands, and pulled them away, studying you. “You wanted me to look at you, right?”

Oh you son of a bitch! Thank the goddess you kept that to yourself. It would do poorly to inadvertently insult the late queen. You did not have a sick comeback ready - you were not ready for a blatantly salacious conversation from the prince of grumbling and no subtlety. “Dimitri you’re embarrassing me..!”

He got you back in his grasp, his arms snaking around you again. “I am only doing as you asked.”

Yeah, shit, you did say something about that at some point. Ugh, this is what happens when you emote too hard! There was something that you wanted to ask him, seeing as he was being fairly talkative this particular evening. As he pressed you to effectively dry-hump him again, you asked, “Where did you learn all of this..?”

“Blame Sylvain.”

He said absolutely nothing to explain further, so your immediate conclusion was that he slept with Sylvain. “WHAT?!” That didn’t sound like something that either of them would agree to though, but you were still confused. You cleared your throat, “Care to elaborate?”

With a heavy sigh, he began. “I lived between Felix and Sylvain, correct?” You nodded. “On either side of me, at unholy hours of the night, there would be screaming of some sort.” He was exceptionally to the point about it, but from what you gathered as he continued on something about a bet with Sylvain, the prince had decided to get revenge on his two old friends for being obnoxious; Felix with his fucking swords, and Sylvain being fucking Sylvain... If you were hearing all this correctly, he essentially disguised his identity for several nights and brought home a few different girls. “It was for the best. I realized I had no idea what I was doing after that night at the tower. I needed to figure things out...”

The jealousy hit you like a fucking battering ram. He got with a bunch of girls after stealing a kiss from you?! The fucking nerve! You would have never thought the sweet, boyish prince would do something so borish! Frankly, it seemed extremely out of character for how he used to conduct himself. You grimaced, but his words were still processing. Did he want experience? What for? Unless it was for... you? Oh. Oh, that turns this on it’s head a bit. You wanted to move on from this conversation. It was leaving you way too conflicted. “You’re chatty tonight...” You commented. 

He narrowed his gaze at you, almost challenging you. “And?”

“I might get some answers out of you.” You supposed you had other questions to ask. “Dimitri... you haven’t kissed me back since our first time...”

“Is that what you want?” He tilted your head up to get to you easier. Well, yeah, that’d be cool and all - frankly you wanted to know why he avoided it so often but this was fine too, you guessed. His kiss was rougher. You suspected it was to keep you from asking further questions. The conversation was probably going to end soon, if it hadn’t already. He hardly spoke when things heated up, and based on how he felt between your legs that was right about... now. You got that same feeling from him again. That starved... ‘desperation’ wasn’t the right word, but a similar strong desire.

He had closed his eyes, which surprised you, but you soon followed suit. He was so warm. Wrapped in his arms, you were warmed too. His hand trailed from your face, to your chest. It made your heart skip a few beats. His hand got lower, bunching your skirt up, shifting it out of the way so his bare hand could rest on your thigh. He gave you a light squeeze as you pressed your hips against him, getting you to moan into him. Your fingers curled into his lovely blond hair again.

Closer, Closer... you could have been closer. You should have been closer. You wanted to be closer. He was warm, and strong, and safe, and being close to him felt good. You liked it when he held you, and you loved it when he kissed you back. You parted your lips. Coming from you, the prince seemed intrigued, and did the same. You weren’t as good at it as he was, but you were feeling an itty bit daring. You slowly dragged your tongue against his. You knew you surprised him because his hand twitched on you. He hardly expected anything sultry of you.

“(Y/N)...” His low whisper was gruff. Him trying to get your attention meant he was done waiting.

Wait fuck, were you going to top? Wait - shit, hold on- fuck! You didn’t know how to do that! Code red! Too many new things! “Switch with me..!” You blurted out. You might have been imagining things, but you think he was biting back an amused smile. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t know what I’m doing..!” You buried your head in his shoulder, trying to hide your flustered face from his smirk.

“You’re fine, (Y/N).” He had to have been lucid - he sounded like he was almost chuckling. You sincerely hoped he was having a good day. Seeing and hearing him emote so much felt wonderful. With his exceptional strength, he lifted you with little effort, and undid his breeches.

You took his comfort to heart, and you eased yourself onto him. You whimpered a small bit, but it was much more over your nervousness than anything else. The weight in your core was exceptional. Your grinding from earlier had left you a bit ruffled, to say the least. You took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings. You rose and fell slowly and deliberately, a small squeal escaping you once in a while. He didn’t verbally tell you, because of course he wouldn’t, but you felt that the prince was getting impatient with your pace. He was practically lifting you up and down on his own, squeezing you, urging you on. You were very close to climax but this still didn’t quite feel like something you could do. “Dima... Dimitri, please,” How long would you need to go for? Did you even have the stamina for this? How were you supposed to know when to stop? You stammered out. “Please... I don’t...” You clenched your eyes shut, different wording!!! “Switch with me...” 

When you opened your eyes again, you were on your back. He was staring down at you, an arm on either side of your head propping him up, “Better?” You nodded up at him. “Good.” It came as a shock to you when he leaned down to kiss you again. It wasn’t... aggressive. It was soft, and sweet. Granted it was accompanied by him thrusting into you, but that wasn’t the important part. The way his lips pressed into yours was gentle and patient. Dare you say, it was nostalgic. It felt like love. 

It was what you wanted. He was giving you everything you wanted. You reached up to hold him, again threading your fingers through his hair. It made it much easier to hold onto him. He was giving you time to think, but that was cut off by you coming around him. You knew you were close, but you didn’t think it was that close! Your chest heaved against his. He broke from you when you gasped. As soon as you had enough air, you pulled him back in. You felt greedy, but you wanted that feeling again. He didn’t argue, certainly.

The two of you carried on that way until he was done, and even after, he allowed you to continue with your sweet pecks as the two of you laid down for a short time. He grabbed the hand you had on his face, and he held it carefully. “(Y/N).” He whispered. You paused to hear what he had to say. You felt his thumb unconsciously graze your knuckles. He took a moment, looking troubled. “I am... worried.”

“About what?” You settled your head into the pillow with a yawn.

“Attachment is unwise.” By tone alone, you knew he was still fairly unclouded by the usual ailments of the mind plaguing him. It didn’t change the fact that again, he provided no further context for what he was saying. “I indulged too much this time.”

“What is that supposed to mean..?” You asked him, struggling to keep your eyes open. Using magic, followed directly by *ahem* ‘Strenuous physical activity’ was a rough combination on your poor, crestless blood. If he gave you an answer, you didn’t hear it, because you clocked out.

You stirred the next morning as Dimitri got out of bed. If you thought he was reclusive and avoidant before, you hadn’t seen anything yet. He even stopped eating with you. You saw him at night when he kept watch. That was it. He did not come to find you in the library, and he no longer came to you when he needed to clean up. It was jarring and upsetting, to say the least. Especially since you had finally gotten a few moments of something you had been deprived of for five painful years. The loneliness made you think of other kinds of love lost to time.

In your melancholy, one day you finished your work in the late evening, and you went down to the cathedral, thinking praying would ease your pain, if only so you could sleep soundly. You stood before the rubble pile where the altar to Saint Seiros and the Goddess used to be and you clasped your hands together. You didn’t actually formally pray much, thinking back on it. You might have stopped after your mother passed. That may have been the moment you stopped believing the Goddess was watching over you. Not that you’d ever say something that sacrilegious out loud. Not after you heard what Lady Rhea had done to those bishops from the Western Church. Your crime was lesser, but you didn’t want to take your chances. Maybe it was the day the monastery was attacked. Or maybe it was the day Cornelia announced the death of the Regent, and the Prince’s Execution. Or maybe it was when the western lord’s announced their fealty to the Dukedom. You don’t know. A lot of shit went wrong pretty quickly, and she didn’t seem to be doing much outside of watching.

Um, hey, your holiness..? You didn’t really remember how to pray. You knew you wanted to send out some wishes for your loved ones, but talking to the omnipotent being who had been relatively silent for a good millenia or so despite the numerous wars and conflicts of pointless bloodshed made asking her for favors a bit tricky. You were also conflicted about having your rapier at your side while you were in a church. It didn’t seem right. None of it... I hope my mother is well with you. And the Blue Lions... I hope they’re safe... I hope they get here in one piece. And father... I hope he’s not worrying too much, and I hope he can keep convincing the merchants to back the resistance.

And Dimitri... please... Please help him. I know he’s done a lot of bad things, but... I know there’s still good in him. You can forgive just about anything, right?

Right..?

Please don’t take him away from me again. Please. Just stop taking people away from me! You hadn’t even realized you were on the verge of tears until you felt the spontaneous need to sniffle.

“What are you doing here?” The voice of the prince nearly made you jump out of your skin. You always had the courtesy to call to him from far away. He had snuck up on you despite being in his armor. 

You gave him a slight glare, wiping your eyes. “You don’t own the cathedral.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” The man doesn’t talk to you for days, and then he almost gives you another heart attack! The audacity!

“I’m praying.”

He seemed surprised, maybe he noticed your fairly loose practice. “For what?”

“For everyone I have ever loved and cared about, for my research to go faster...” You thought about it for a minute, then added, “Don’t worry, you’re in the ‘loved’ categ-”

There was not a single chance in hell that you could have ever predicted the absolute fucking meltdown in composure that you were about to witness. “Don’t say that- don’t say another word!” He barked. “You can’t! You can’t!” 

You were surprised you didn’t yelp when his hands clamped down on your shoulders. The force probably could have made a dent in the stone floor. You had been stunned into silence, not that he would have heard you with the way he was ranting and raving at you.

“The dead are quiet when I am with you- and when I leave your side they come back with more fury than before- if they hear you I will never know respite- they will never allow it. They will make it so I never know peace with you again...” You could not help but notice how his hands trembled, getting to your neck. His demons would rather him kill you. Is that why he wouldn't kiss you? Is that why he avoided you? Because they wouldn’t accept such attachment? It was impressive you understood that much from the wide-eyed tirade he had just gone on. You hadn’t even directly said ‘I love you,’

He hadn’t clenched down yet, but having him in range to strangle you was far from ideal. “Dimitri, let go of me.” You were trying to be calm with your tone. This was not the first time you had dealt with a shell shocked fighter lashing out at you - the war made sure of that - but none of those patients of yours had superhuman strength.

“(Y/N)... I tried to tell you...” He sounded so far away, despite how close he was. “I...”

“Okay. We’re okay. You need to let go of my neck.” You put a hand over his gauntlet, gently tugging it away from you. You let out breath as he yielded. “You’re okay, Dimitri. You’re okay...”

“I’m so sorry...” The weight of this interaction finally dawned on you. After all you had done together, he could have killed you, just like that. You had started to shake too, but you kept the rest together. You had to keep it together. Panicking could have been your end. As you looked up at him, his wild eye, his deathly pale face, the sweat starting to bead on his skin. He was freaking out. “I’m sorry, (Y/N)...”

He had apologized for something, finally. For this. For trying to kill you. 

Well, at least you could confirm that he could still say it. Suddenly, you found yourself face first into his chest, him having yanked you forward, followed immediately by a dull thunk behind you. He loosened his grip enough for you to turn around, where you found an arrow wedged in the rubble pile, perfectly level with where your head just was.

Your eyes darted to the doorway of the cathedral, where you saw an unmistakable collection of imperial troops. You did not look long, because the prince, who was still in fight or flight mode, had swept you off the ground, and had booked it out the side door and to the Goddess tower. “They followed me.” He said, “They followed me,” Over, and over. He had rather effortlessly carried you up a few flights, perhaps midway up the structure, when he finally placed you down, and he reached around a pillar, pulling a steel lance out from behind it. He had stashed weapons all over the grounds, including in the holy site. That was terrifying to think about, but also pretty big brain, so you weren’t going to fault him for it. Weapon in hand, his anxiety had ceased. He was solely in fight mode now. “How many could you see?” He asked, the previous emotion in his voice going completely flat. Another 180 from him...

“Maybe ten?” You answered quickly. You had also shifted into fight mode. An unfortunately homicidal prince..? That you may have been able to reason with, just because he seemed regretful almost instantly. Armed enemy troops who were likely looking for any and all kingdom supporters, knew some of their intel sources had been offed recently, and were willing to shoot first- ask questions later? Less cool. You drew your rapier and prepped to cast, resigned to the incoming fight. Absolutely wild that this man was suddenly the less hostile problem.

“Stay behind me.” He ordered. You weren’t about to argue. You’d put a pin in the attempted strangling for now. The Imperials did not have nearly the same amount of stealth that the prince did. You could hear them stomping up the stairs from floors away. The prince ducked you behind another pillar. Then he got between you, and the opening the Imperials would have likely come through. You couldn’t really see around him, with the cloak and all. “Create a wall of fire after my first strike.”

“On it!” The first three to make it up the stairs were gutted fairly quickly. Or you think it might have been three, due to the three separate sets of bodies collapsing noises. As commanded, you lit the stairwell up. You and your companion fled up the next set of stairs, and prepped the same strategy again as your first spell faded. You repeated, leaving another three soldiers dead by the prince’s lance. Then there were still four left, if you were correct about their numbers, and you had two more floors you could have climbed. Things were looking pretty great - until they weren’t. As you attempted to lean around the prince to cast fire again, you got hit in the chest by a greyish miasma of some sort. It did not hurt you, but you found that you were unable to make a sound. You brought a hand to your throat, distressed - the soldiers had a magic user among them. 

WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK?! You had been Silenced. 

Dimitri realized something was wrong almost as soon as it happened. He took a split second to look at you, and in that time, a soldier swung at him with a Venin Edge. The blow was only glancing, bless his reflexes, but that type of weapon guarantees poison no matter what. He still dispatched the assailant quickly, but the damage was done. He took a few steps backwards, likely feeling the effects already. You were powerless to assist him, and you would be until your own affliction ceased. His Highness shook it off as best he could, throwing the corpse on his lance at the advancing troops. He took you by the arm, and hurried you up the next flight of stairs, knowing your escape time was even shorter. There were three left. One of them could use magic, and whoever that prick was had practically rendered you useless. The fucking asshole!

You looked back at your pursuers. Like you had deduced, one mage was with them. Then there was a swordsman, and one armored knight with an axe. You could feel by the way the prince was pulling you that he was listing to the side. He wasn’t handling the poison well. You tried to speak again, heal him, cast nosferatu at your assailants, fucking anything. All that came out was babbled rasps. You had one more flight of stairs before you reached the top of the tower. 

Unwell as he was, Dimitri once more put himself between you and the Imperials. Not a moment too soon. The swordsman had caught up first, and swung like he was attempting to cleave the two of you in half. The prince guarded with a lance just in time, but he lacked the strength to counter quickly. But the Imperials were coordinated, the mage was about to cast something up close, while the knight was getting ready to swing at Dimitri.

DIMITRI! Without thinking, you dashed out from behind the prince, slamming into the caster with your shoulder, and sending him to the ground. You spun on your heel and lunged at the knight, driving your rapier through the chink in the plates of his armor with all your might. Your voice finally returning to you, “ FUCK OFF!” You had skewered the man through the ribs, right through his heart.

You had killed him instantly.

As he fell away from your blade, you heard an awful metallic snapping noise. A whimper escaped your throat as you stared down at the broken rapier in your hand. The lily white sleeve of your shirtwaist was stained a deep red. Your hand was red. The pool growing under the body was red. You dropped to your knees, your stomach in your throat.

I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him I killed him

That couldn’t have been right. You were a medic. You were a healer. You didn’t hurt people, you healed them. But the blood was on your hands. The other half of your precious, sentimental weapon was still visibly sticking out of the dead man’s armor.

You didn’t see the prince off the swordsman, but you heard him screaming at the mage, who was begging for mercy from the man who had pinned him to the ground with a spear through the hip. “How did you find us?!”

“Th-the brigands-”

That was all Dimitri needed to hear. With no further conversation, the prince tore the lance through the man’s hip, up through his neck. In a fit of rage, he kicked the body so hard, he sent it tumbling down the stairs. He did the same with the other two.

You hadn’t gotten up. You kept your eyes on your hands, sobbing now. You didn’t hurt people. You helped them. You weren’t a killer. 

“(Y/N).”

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean-” You couldn’t let them kill the prince. But you didn’t want to hurt them. You didn’t want to hurt anyone. The only reason you were here was to help people. “I didn’t want to-”

“(Y/N). Let go of the rapier.” He sounded sick. He was definitely too strong for the poison to kill him, he would be fine in a few hours, but that didn’t mean it was doing him any favors.

Your babbling was incoherent. Your other hand hurt now too, and you could see more red seeping out from your clenched fist. How? You wielded your rapier one handed - why was your other hand bloodied?

“(Y/N). Put it down, you’re hurting yourself.” The prince crouched next to you, and tried to pull the blade away from you. You shook your head incessantly, your whole body nearly flailing. Trying to tear the weapon from your hands seemed out of the question then. He then tried to reach under the basket hilt, but his gauntlet was too large to fit under it with your hand there as well. He took off his gauntlet.

“I didn’t want to kill him!” A coherent thought finally left you. The tears burned your eyes. You felt so sick, but you knew you weren’t going to throw up. You had seen too much gore for this to be what sickened you. But that made you feel worse. You took a life. The least you could do was be fucking regretful. 

“I know...” You felt Dimitri’s freezing hand over your own. He was prying your fingers off the handle of the rapier, one by one. A hand over yours, just like when you were younger. His other hand, still covered, was trying to get you to unclench your fist. You could see you had clawed your own palm open as he held your fingers away from it. That’s where the blood on your off hand had come from.

The remnants of your weapon clattered to the ground as the prince finally got your hand off of it. “I didn’t mean to... I didn’t mean to...” He pulled you to your feet, and up the last set of stairs. You were now on the top floor of the Goddess Tower. 

He had brought you away from the bodies. He sat down with you on the unforgiving floor, wrapping you in his cloak. “You kept us safe.”

You were so grateful that he didn’t tell you, ‘it’s okay,’ because it wasn’t okay. Those were the last words you needed to hear.

Chapter Text

A miracle happened at first light.

You woke to the arm the prince had over you tightening around you. He let out a few strained breaths, “I should’ve known... that one day you would be haunting me as well...”

“Dimitri...” You whispered, your mouth agape. “I can see him too...”

And there, bathed in the warm and forgiving glow of the rising sun, was a man, back from the dead it seemed. None other than The Professor, extending his hand to the two of you.

“You... It can’t be! You’re alive?!” The prince sprang to his feet, keeping you shielded under his arm and cloak. “Hmph. If that is the case... That can only mean you are another Imperial spy. Did you come here to kill us?” Dimitri leveled the spear to The Professor's throat. “Answer the question.”

You were hard pressed to recall a time where the stoic mint haired man was expressive in front of you. But the troubled frown on his face tore at your heart. He did not fear the weapon. He was too worried. “Of course not,” he shook his head.

The prince groaned slightly, and attempted to push past the other man, taking you with him.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” That saddened expression had yet to leave Byleth’s face.

The prince stopped for a moment. “Are we?”

Are we safe? No. No, no, no, no, no. If you were safe, none of this would have happened. Your sleeves would still be white, and you wouldn’t have gouge wounds in your palms, and the prince wouldn’t have such dark marks under his eyes again from staying up all night trying to console you. You slipped out from under the cloak, letting Dimitri storm off in peace. You stood in front of Byleth, staring him down. You reached up and poked his chest.

“(Y/N)... You look older.” He studied you up and down, speaking in that same, off putting monotone. “And really tired.”

He was solid. He was warm. He was alive. Your voice broke as you asked him, “Where have you been..?”

“I’m not sure...” He seemed uncomfortable. “I think I was asleep... for a long time.”

You didn’t know whether to hug him, or knock his teeth out. He hadn’t aged a day. “Go try to explain that to Dimitri.” You tried not to sound angry, or like you were going to start crying again. You don’t think you succeeded with either, but hey, you tried. Byleth nodded to you, and walked after the prince. You went to the nearest window, and you dry-heaved for a few minutes straight. It was fucking terrible. Someone coming back from the dead made you sick - not the taking of life.

You crept back into the cathedral, hearing the tail end of The Professor and the Prince’s conversation.

“You must have seen the state of the town near Garreg Mach on your way here. Vile thieves run rampant. They pillage and loot to their heart’s content.” He must have been thinking of your trip into town, and the poor doctor’s daughter. His arms were folded, but you could see his fingers twitch. “I must kill them. Every last one.” He looked to you as you made your audible steps across the room. “They tried to kill us... kill her... It’s time to hunt down their nest.”

Byleth looked to you as well, then back to the Prince. “What do you plan to do?”

“I told you. I will kill them all.”

“We don’t have to kill them to stop them.” The Professor attempted to reason.

“They must die.” You felt sick again listening to him. Hadn’t enough people died? And that uncaring distance in his voice again... It was horrifying. And then, you heard the anger dripping from his words. “Someone must put a stop to this cycle of the strong trampling the weak.” It sounded so close to something noble. So close to something moral and upstanding, but he just kept going. He glared at the other man. “Or do you condone their actions? Do you believe that the pillaging and slaughtering those rats live for is justified?!” Byleth wasn’t even given a chance to respond. “It is reprehensible, and they must be put down! I intend to give them a taste of the pain they have inflicted on others.”

You took a seat in a  nearby pew, resting your head in your hands. Enough... Enough... You pleaded to the Goddess who did not listen.

“Even if it means becoming a rat myself. I swore to do at least that much... I will not let them down...” There it was again, almost sounding righteous. But you knew who ‘ they ’ were. It was not the tormented common folk. It was not an oath to the people. It was a promise to the dead that clung to your sweet prince, driving him mad.

“How many thieves are there?” Byleth inquired.

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is killing those who deserve to die.”

You didn’t want to start crying again. You really didn’t. He had been doing pretty well recently, bar the previous few nights. You had been really proud of him. He had been taking care of himself... And it felt like all of that was gone now. The prince’s footsteps trudged your way. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your head.

“You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to.” He told you very softly. Quietly. It was between the two of you, and no one else. Not even the dead.

Of course you went with them! You were still reeling from what happened, there was no denying that. But there was no fucking way you were going to leave that reckless, raging man suffering from literal psychosis, and some borderline mute, zombie-man to their own devices.

 It was pretty worthwhile to watch the Prince’s jaw drop when Gilbert stormed onto the field. It was a twist not even you were expecting, but you welcomed it gratefully. You got your own surprise when the entire Blue Lion gang showed up. Annie nearly broke your ribs with the hug she gave you. She might have actually done it, but Mercie had hit you with Heal at the same time. Ashe’s smile very well may have restocked your brain’s serotonin supply. Sylvain shot you a wink, and doing your best to make use of your new serotonin, you hit him with the finger guns. Ingrid might have done a double take at you, probably thinking your shirt looked familiar, but she was still happy to see you. No Dedue though... Oh Dedue...

The only present individual who didn’t seem particularly happy with you was Felix, and frankly you couldn’t blame him. He pulled you aside as Gilbert caught everyone up on the state of affairs. “When did you find The Boar?”

“A few weeks back.” You honestly weren’t sure. You hadn’t been counting the days too closely.

“And when did you plan on telling the rest of us that our sovereign ruler was alive and well?” He looked at you impatiently with his amber glare. “We’ve been trying to find him for years, and you suddenly stumble upon him- and then you don’t tell anyone a damn thing.”

Well, you kinda mentioned him in that letter but... Well that didn’t count, did it? “I don’t know if I was ever going to.” You bit down on your lip. “Felix he’s... He’s not exactly...” You didn’t know how to say it. ‘ Yeah bro, he’s fucking feral, and is probably wanted for multiple counts of murder in several countries. Also he doesn’t really have his table manners anymore. ’

On the brightside, the lordling seemed to understand. “No, he isn’t the man he once was.” But he understood in the ‘angry at anything the breathes unless he thought they had a nice singing voice’ way of his. “He’s even more monstrous than I possibly thought he could be.”

“Felix!” You hissed. “You asshole, he saved my life!” A few times.

“Oh good, you haven’t lost your secretly foul mouth since we last spoke.” In the years since you and your father’s displacement, you had been given shelter in Frauldarius territory. You were personally taken into their house, as thanks for your father’s continuous financial backing to The Resistance. In that time, Felix, who had become like a brother to you, had found out you cussed like a sailor, and the little shit had been holding it over you ever since, knowing it violated every principle of lady-like respectability that you were supposed to portray. “I’ll try not to hold this against you. Anyway, I’ve got a letter from your old man...”

You swiped the parchment from the raven haired man, and you fled. You could easily say that this was to dodge further questioning from him, and Gilbert, who was definitely going to grill you the first chance he got, but you could also say that you were very excited to hear from your Father.

My Dearest (Y/N),

Hey Sweet Pea, I hope this letter finds you well. I’m glad you’ve gotten back into your research. Your mother would be very proud of you, helping others like this. I know you can find the cure. You’re a smart girl. If anyone can do it, it’s you, my little doctor. I still miss you terribly, but I know you’re doing the right thing.

Alright, enough with the mushy things, I’ve got some more “fun” news for you. More suitors are coming to me, looking for you. I keep trying to tell them you’re a working woman, and you don’t have time for this nonsense. They won’t take my word for it, so then I told them you would only start considering someone if they can beat you in a fencing bout. If I were you, I’d keep hiding around the monastery for a bit because now we have a bunch of idiots coming around not knowing the difference between sabres and epees. Merchant’s kids, I swear... Not sure how you turned out so much better. I’m blessed that your mother and I had you.

Good luck, my darling girl. Your old man is always rooting for you.

You knew he was well, because the letter was informal. It was a relief. You really needed that letter. No matter what you did, good or bad, your father, and your mother, Goddess rest her soul, they loved you. Despite what had happened, you were likely on the road to recovering, with your support network returned to you. That could not be said for a certain dear companion. 

The more you observed, the more you concluded having Byleth back created a much more negative impact on the prince than you would have anticipated. One would assume that someone who was thought to be deceased returning and being nothing but kindly and supportive would aid in the fractured mental state. It seemed to have the opposite effect. If the professor was alive and did not hate the prince, who else was still kicking? Would they be so forgiving? What was the man even fighting for if the dead had no desire for vengeance? That line of thinking seemed to make Dimitri more and more withdrawn, more and more aggressive to everyone. He’d snap at Annette, Mercedes and Ashe, would growl at Gilbert and Seteth, and he avoided Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix like the plague. Five years he spent wallowing in that agony, living only for vengeance, and suddenly it may have been for nothing. Instead of accepting that, he seemed to double down, the voices damning him only getting louder, and his lunacy only getting worse. Finally having an army sizable enough to do the damage he wished for must have been exacerbating the demands of the deceased. Being idle meant he was squandering his resources. And when he took any sort of break... There were a few occasions when you or The Professor caught him talking to Glenn, or his father, and if questioned, he would lash out at people.

It did not mean he was uncaring though. Or, you didn’t think it did. He cared about these people who he once called friends, he just had no desire to show it. He had to have been worried though, or he wouldn’t have...

Well, the day in the Guardian Moon when the small Imperial force tried to retake the monastery was probably the easiest example. When the enemy forces got to the exterior wall, Gilbert, the absolute madman, decided the best idea to deter them and eliminate a sizable portion of their forces was to firebomb them. He wasn’t wrong, but personally you would have tried to do at least a few other things first.

It took a lot of emotional preparation on your end, but you joined the troops on the field. Not as a combatant, but a dutiful medic of the revitalized Kingdom Army. You scaled the walls and rubble, finding and aiding whoever needed you most. You had pressed further than you may have originally intended, and you ended up towards the front near Felix, The Professor and Dimitri. You had done your best to avoid any attention, but there were three spell casters on your tail, and you did not have the stomach to so much as think about returning fire to them.

“(Y/N)!” Felix shouted, “What are you doing?!” The Frauldarius heir got into a brief clash with one of your pursuers, but the other two remained undeterred. Frankly, their lung capacity was astounding. You had been running a full sprint for several minutes. 

You looked around wildly for another ally to assist you, or at least for some place you could duck into to throw the mages off your trail. You passed the corner of a crumbling fortification, and when those chasing you crossed it’s path, a blur of blue lunged out at them, blocking their way. “Get away from her..!” The Prince growled. He seemed a bit winded. Had he come running when Felix yelled your name? Maybe it didn’t matter much. “I’ll destroy you!”  He quickly dispatched the first mage by jumping through the air and spiking his lance clean through them. It was complete and total overkill, but it looked really cool. The second was electrocuted to a crisp simultaneously by the raven haired swordsman, making use of his budding talent in reason as he caught up to you.

This put you all within the line sight of the enemy commander. He had intended to cover the retreat of his troops that were injured in the fire attack. Instead he had watched three different troops get cut down for chasing around a random girl who wasn’t even fighting back. It likely weighed heavily on him. 

Meanwhile the prince and Felix brought you behind some rubble, parallel to where The Professor was duking it out with an imperial soldier. “Are you insane?!” The Prince was clearly irate. “You shouldn’t be this close to the fight!”

He didn’t give you one, but you could hear the eye-roll in Felix’s voice. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing with The Boar on this one, but you do need to fall back.”

You snapped off a Fortify, patching the two of them up, as well as The Professor to remind them that you did have a purpose there. Dimitri had opened his mouth, likely to try and argue that you needed to retreat, but he snapped it shut, and turned his head back towards the open ground. The three of you were about within earshot of the sandy haired Imperial General. “A total loss... But we can’t just return home like this...”

Byleth was still in the main street, right where the enemy could see him. He was still blade to blade with the Imperial he was fighting. You could see from where you stood that the General himself was beginning to sprint forward, silver axe in hand. He was making a beeline for the mint haired man.

Dimitri booked it from your hiding place, running as fast as he could to intercept the attack. “Professor! Get down!” You knew in that moment, he did still care about the others. There was no doubt. His instinct was to protect.

As warned, Byleth tuck and rolled out of the way, the ground beneath where he previously occupied had been cratered by the force of the blow. It likely would have killed him instantly otherwise.

The prince clashed with the general, lance to axe. “A one-eyed demon... So it’s you. You’re the one who’s been going around killing the Imperial troops!”

You think you would have loved to hear this conversation - truly it seemed like it would have been fascinating, but Felix was already ushering you back to the defensive line, covering your retreat. Perhaps it was for the best that you missed out. You didn’t need to see the prince capture and torture another human being. You didn’t need anything else keeping you up at night.

It was odd that Dimitri sought you out once things calmed down, especially considering how he had been acting towards people as of late. He tracked you down in the infirmary, where you were assisting Manuela with the wounded. “(Y/N).”

You stepped into the hallway with him. “Do you need something?”

“Don’t...” He had been wearing that awful, dead eye expression for some time now, but his lips twitched into a frown as he stared down at you. “Don’t do that again if you aren’t going to defend yourself.”

You cocked your head, don’t do my job? “I’m sorry if I worried you, but-”

“Just be more careful...” He grumbled, cutting you off and walking away.

“(Y/N), sweetie...” Manuela began as you returned to her side. “If he ever does anything that scares you, you tell me, and I’ll teach him a lesson, okay?”

“Um... Alright, thank you.”

“And remember kiddo, especially since you’re getting to that age, don’t stick your dick in crazy, and don’t let crazy stick it’s dick in you.”

What were you supposed to say to that? What the fuck were you supposed to say to that?  Were you supposed to remind her that you were in your twenties and could make your own decisions? Were you supposed to let it go? Was she drinking again? She never used to drink on the job, just on the weekends! “Okay,” You were not willing to let her, or anyone else be privy to the fact that you were waaaaaaaay past that!

Fuck, you were so goddess damned far past that.

It was rather apparent that the prince did still have a few more soft spots where he was more purposefully lucid to avoid upsetting a few certain people. The first seemed to be you, though you were not directly aware of it. Between bouts of research and work in the infirmary, you would go for strolls around the monastery. Anything to break the monotony. You were either reading about tragedy, but in a terribly boring, distant academic way, or you were up to your elbows in blood tending to troops. You hardly managed longer than two consecutive hours of sleep. You needed these breaks. On your walks, you would always stop by the cathedral, and without fail, you would find Dimitri staring at the rubble pile.

You had become used to that behavior from him before the troops got here, but these newcomers didn’t really understand why he was spacing out like that. If anything, it freaked them out quite a bit. That was bad for the war effort. One day you dared to approach him. “Good morning,” You greeted him. Now that renovations and repairs were being done by the knights, you were a bit less concerned about the idea of the ceiling collapsing.

He had gotten quiet as of late. Sometimes he’d tell people to go away. Sometimes he would just... stare. That was what he was doing. You would have rather him tell you to leave - at least then he’d be doing something. The nightmares you’d been having... You didn’t want him to look at you like that.

“What are you doing?” You asked him.

“It’s afternoon.” He told you.

“What?”

“It’s late in the afternoon. Not morning.” He clarified for you.

“Oh, I guess I’m losing track of time...” You let out a nervous chuckle. This was awkward. You hadn’t tried to have a normal full conversation with him since he came uncomfortably close to choking you. The few other people in the cathedral had their eyes on you, amazed anyone had dared to approach the delusional prince. That was making things worse.

“What do you want?” He was dismissive, but at least he was trying to speed up this horribly unpleasant interaction.

“How should I put this..?” You pursed your lips. “I’m worried about... troop morale. You are...” Freaking people the fuck out. Your fingers impatiently tapped your side. “People are less inclined to listen to you, when all they see you do is stare at a dirt pile.” Well, you weren’t wrong. Super not wrong. And someone had to do something about it.

He just kept on staring, and it was all you could do to not squirm.

“So tomorrow, I’m going to bring some work with me, and I’m going to sit here with you.” Oh yeah, it was all coming together, nice work brain! His blank expression shifted to something you hesitated to call a glare, but you didn’t have a better name for it. “You don’t have to talk to me, I just think it would ease the minds of the troops if it seemed like you were interacting with people.”

“Fine.” He answered after an impossibly horrid silence.

“Wonderful!” You clasped your hands together, creating a boom in the cathedral. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You practically skipped off, those watching you completely slack jawed. You couldn’t blame them. That went way better than you expected. “Yeah bro, I’m just gonna sit here so people think we’re chillin,’” Like, that actually worked?

The next day you appeared with your condensed notes, and some quills and ink. “Good afternoon,” You chirped, sitting down next to where he stood.

He glanced down at you. “It’s morning.”

“Oh boy...” You sighed, “Sorry, my sleeping schedule is... nonexistent right now.”

And so your newest routine began. Each day at weird times, you would appear because time was not relevant to you, and he would correct you on the hour. You would continually further narrow the possible disease ailing the troops, and he would watch you, searching for some odd intention. Bystanders would whisper regardless. One day, you told him that if this was going to work, he ought to sit down - actually try to convince people that you were having a human interaction. And just like that, he sat cross legged next to you. His gaze was still pointed at the rubble, but this was already much more natural looking to the average passerby. Things continued on like that. It was evident that you had some sort of sway over His Broodiness. 

You had taken to laying on your stomach as you worked on the cathedral floor, one hand writing, the other supporting your tired, frequently yawning head. The stone was cold. That was good. It kept you awake.

“You look awful.” Dimitri told you at some point.

“Rude.” You grumbled back, not looking up from your notes, though your eyes narrowed. We can’t all be as radiant as Dorothea is at all times, but that didn’t mean anyone had any business pointing it out.

“That's not what I...” He trailed off. “When was the last time you slept?” 

Ah, so you didn’t look like a dumpster fire, you just looked tired. “... I mean, I just woke up from a nap...” you replied.

“And the last full night?” He pressed further. You didn’t have an answer for that, because you weren’t entirely sure. Power naps - You lived off of power naps - because if you were lucky you didn’t dream with those. He must have seen the concern spread across your face. “Nightmares?”

Every time. Every true sleep. That same awful, awful dream. “Yes...”

You were back there. Back at the tower. The knight was bearing down on the prince. You had to protect him. You had to. No further hesitation, you drove your rapier through the armor’s gaps, allowing the prince to dispatch the other Imperials.

Your legs gave out under you. Again, you had been forced to face your crime. “I didn’t mean to...” You sobbed. You were suddenly met with a brutal kick to the ribs. It had the force of a monster behind it, sending you flying at the wall.

“Murderer...” He growled at you. He was not Death, as you had once mistaken him. He was Judgement. 

Not again. Not again. Not again.

“I-I didn’t-” Your sin stained your hand red. There was no hiding what you had done.

“Quiet you damned beast!” He grabbed you by your neck, yanking you back up, hissing again, “Murderer.” He went for the throat. Of course he went for the throat, because that’s what frightened you the most.

“I’m not- I’m not a-” You stammered your incoherent defense to the One-Eyed Demon.

“You’re a killer.” The way he looked at you. A ceaseless stare.

You had rammed a blade through a man’s heart. There was no denying what you did. “I’m so- I’m sorry..!” You wailed. You had done it for him.

“Don’t apologize to me.” He lined up the lance between your ribs. “Apologize to the man you murdered when you meet him again in the Eternal Flames.” His judgement was passed.

And everyday, you would go see him. You would sit there with the demon that haunted your dreams, and you pretended nothing was wrong. Even though the last thing you would see before snapping awake in a cold sweat was him driving a lance through your chest, hatred and disdain radiating from him. Were you just trying to prove to yourself there wasn’t anything to be afraid of? Maybe? Except you two had still yet to address...

“I understand.” He said to you quietly. “It is... unpleasant.” If someone had an abundance of nightmares, it was probably him. 

“That’s one way to put it.” You sat up and made an attempt at a joke, “Who needs sleep though, right? More time to work.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.” The joke had gone flying over his head, it seemed. And also those words, coming from him? Now that was quite the lark on its own. Still, it was nice that he attempted to sympathize, for what that was worth.

You sighed. It was worth a shot. “And you? How have you been?”

He didn’t answer you for a solid amount of time, leading you to believe he had checked out of the conversation. He did that from time to time. You were about to get back to your notes, when suddenly he spoke, “I noticed they were less frequent when we stayed together.”

You perked up, surprised. He seemed to be referencing nightmares. “Why do you think that is?” You hadn’t been staying in his room anymore. You took your naps in the infirmary, in the library, in the dining hall, against the wall in the garden. Wherever you could, because your old room was one of the areas of the monastery that was currently under rubble. It didn’t seem right to stay with him, now that others were around. People might have started to ask about things. You didn’t need rumors flying around.

“I knew when I was awake, and when I wasn’t.” If you were next to him, or if he saw you in the bed, that meant it was real.

“I wish that was the case for me... I know it’s just a dream but still-” You weren’t aware that your voice was beginning to tremble. ‘ Murderer. ’ You heard in your mind. ‘ You’re a killer. ’ That accusing hiss in his voice. The loathing you were met with. “It still feels so-” And you were sitting next to him now, acting as though this was a casual conversation. Though you were sniffling now, you were still trying to keep it together.

“(Y/N).” And suddenly his lack of emotion cut through the imaginary growl. He knew what the nightmare was. At least in part. He may not have known about the part where he killed you. But he knew the beginning. Your crime- “You were defending yourself.”

“I-I just...” You hadn’t had much time for tears as of late. But you shuffled your papers away from you so you didn’t ruin your notes. Tear stains were a nightmare of their own on ink. You had to know for certain that he didn’t think you were a monster, because it was his voice that told you those awful things. “Dimitri... Am I a bad person?”

“No.” He answered so quickly it caught you off guard. “There are many who have bloodied themselves more than you ever will, and they have done so for less.” You felt a cold gauntlet creep over your hand. “You are a good person, (Y/N).”

You took your free hand and did your best to wipe your eyes, but the tears kept coming. The prince did not stop you as you nestled yourself against his cloak. You did not care that those in the cathedral were watching you sob. It was war. It was stressful. They would understand well enough. 

He did not mind. He would never mind honest repentance. He continued to hold your hand, patiently and quietly, as he waited for you to settle down. “You can stay with me again, if you would like.”

As the tears began to slow, you flushed ever so slightly. “People will talk.” Surprisingly, you were not referring to mockery by Sylvain. But to the general public. Father had warned you about the coming tide of suitors - you had to maintain some form of respectability.

“I don’t care.” You knew he still had a heart. You just knew it. Even if his tone was dismissive and cold. “If it helps you sleep at night, then I couldn’t care less.” 

The nightmares did not stop. Trauma doesn’t end so easily, but gradually you would recover. Time heals all wounds. Things get faster when you have friends to assist you, to talk it out and get the help you need. Being under the arm of someone warm when you would wake with a start would help you get back to sleep faster. It was only a dream - there was living proof holding you that reassured you of that.

Following the gain of Lord Fraldarius’ troops, and his treasured counseling, since he had decided to stay things were looking up. You were so happy to see him. Another person who could reason with the Prince was an excellent boon to the war council. He was also very kind to you, constantly. His praise for your progress in your research left you beaming. He would give you a fatherly pat on the shoulder, and suddenly you felt like you could do anything. Though he was also another person on the growing list of people who were trying to ask you about the future king. Trying to figure out why you were always around him - and what in the Goddess’ name were you doing in his room each night? To be fair, Rodrigue and Gilbert were more concerned about his mental state, and what he had been doing for five years. Regardless, it was not something you felt you had all the answers for. As far as you knew, the prince was still a raging monster on the battlefield, a slave to the bloodthirst of the departed. Only when he returned to the monastery did he get quiet, beating down the anger and lunacy until he believed he was alone. Then he would give in and let the voices berate him once more.

His Highness had another soft spot. Or, softspots plural, er- multiple people fell under this soft spot, but they could be grouped together into one collective bunch that he was relatively less abrasive towards. Yeah. That sounds about right... Children. He really kept himself in check in front of the young.

You aren’t quite sure how you did it, but you convinced Dimitri to come eat with you. In addition to some occassional stories you heard about His Highness letting some woman curl up next to him in the cathedral, you heard rumors that a few days prior The Professor tried to get the other man to come eat in the Dining Hall, and when they sat down, the prince had spiked his dish like he was throwing a fucking discus, and then he left. Not entirely certain on the truth in that little anecdote, you were still surprised when he agreed.

There you were, sat at the edge of a table, enjoying some saghert and cream and some chamomile tea. These were both things you knew the Prince enjoyed. You sincerely hoped he was a little bit happy about it. You had been strategic about this whole thing. It wasn’t a normal meal time meaning it was uncrowded, and you had grabbed a table in a corner, allowing your companion to see more of the room, and cover his blindspots. He had little to worry over. It was mostly just some little ones taking shelter at the monastery running in and out of the room. The prince was slouched over the table, resting his head on his hand, legs crossed under the table. You were keeping your eyes peeled for Gilbert, knowing if he saw the way the royal was eating he might have had a conniption. “Thank you for coming with me.” You smiled. He tried to keep it together when you were in a good mood, bless him. “It’s really sweet.” You said taking a bite of your food.

He murmured something about it smelling nice. He seemed more pleased with the tea, which he more audibly stated was, “Warm...”

The kids ran by once again, although, this time a young girl screeched to a halt next to you. “Hey, I remember you!” She beamed at you, pointing her boney little fingers at your face, “You’re the lady who got me some food!” She then whirled around to point at the prince, whose eye had dilated considerably, “And you got rid of the bandits!”

Dimitri had ceased to be tense when he realized it was merely a child. You both studied her for a moment, and you realized - it was the bread girl - the little one you got some food for a few months back. “Hello there, little miss.” You greeted her. “How are you doing?”

A few of her playmates crept your way, noticing the brave little lady was still standing and chatting, despite the rather imposing man seated at the table. “Bit hungry, miss.” She was still quite raspy sounding. She gestured to the other kids. “We all are.”

The prince crossed his arms, looking across the room to the kitchen area, “Are they not feeding you?” It was decided by the war council, Dimitri included, that there would be rations set aside for the refugees taking shelter at the monastery. The decision was made explicitly because of the concerning influx of orphans arriving with nowhere else to go. If that was not being honored, it seemed His Highness was going to do something about it.

“Hmm,” She tilted her head back and forth, “Um. They gave us food, but they gave us less. Said it was cuz we’re smaller, sir.”

Within a fraction of a second, you watched every negative emotion a human being could express flash across the prince’s face. “Wait here,” He grumbled, standing from the table. You sent a quick prayer for the poor kitchen staffer that was about to get their world torn asunder.

That left you with the small group of kids, who you continued to smile patiently at. You weren’t bad with kids, but you weren’t good with them either. You didn’t seem to need to do much work, the little girl, who up close was definitely around ten, the oldest of this bunch began to bombard you with questions. “What’s your name? How old are you? What do you do for fun?”

“Uh, um-” You blinked. “I’m (Y/N). I’m twenty three. And uh...” You were trying not to grind your teeth. Good Goddess, you were being put on trial by a group of primary schoolers. “I like to... read, I guess..?”

“Do you know how to use swords? The girl asked. “I thought you had a sword last time I saw you.”

“Oh, uh, yes.” You felt your throat tightening. “I like to fence... But I broke my rapier so I can’t... do that right now.” Nor did you want to.

“Oh that’s no fun.” She shrugged at you as you took a sip of tea to try and collect yourself, “Is that scary blond guy really your husband?”

You choked on your drink. “Is he my what ?!” You asked incredulously.

“Well I asked the baker who you guys were, and he said you called the big guy ‘dear,’ and that you were wearing a ring - so you’re married, right?”

Your face got extremely red. OH NO, THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS! You would certainly hesitate to call your arrangement ‘marriage.’ You were pretty sure that marriage was not the mutual agreement that one person would pay for everything, while the other person would make sure no one came to murder the happy pair in their sleep, and some times sexual favors would be exchanged. Actually, fuck, that did sound a bit like marriage. Not a good definition, but it still had a similar enough foundation. You may have just needed someone from the church to give you a thumbs up, and you would have been in business. Realistically though, you don’t think you could even describe your interactions with the prince as dating. Regardless, you sure as shit weren’t going to try to explain any of that to a bunch of little kids. You cleared your throat. “No, we’re not married.”

One of the little boys huffed, “Mari, I told you - that’s The Prince! They were undercover!”

“She’s wearing a ring though!” The girl snapped back.

“Lots of people wear rings!”

“Okay, okay!” You shushed the young people. “No fighting in the Dining Hall.”

In that amazing way of his, the Prince had quietly returned to your table without much notice. Carefully handing off a burlap sack to the girl, and sitting down once more. “Bread, cheese, and fruit. You must share it with the other children though.”

The eyes of the little one’s lit up. “Righ-right! Thank you, sir!” Mari nodded,

The young boy piped in again. “That’s not how you talk to royalty, Mari!” He turned to the prince, and he gave him a clumsy bow. “Thank you very much, Your Highness!” A few of the other children made an effort to mimic the behavior.

Dimitri reached out and patted the boy and girl’s heads, the ghost of a grin gracing his face. “Run along now.” The children scurried off, leaving you alone with your companion. He turned to face you again, going neutral once more. “What are you smiling for?”

Your face still red from before, you looked back down at your tea cup. “That was so cute.”

He absent mindedly twirled a fork between his fingers, his tone getting dark. “We must keep pressing for Enbarr. If we take Gronder on the way, we won’t be short on food.” Enbarr. He had a one track mind...

But before all that was taking the Great Bridge of Myrddin. If people thought The Professor actually being alive was a miracle, then holy shit was Dedue on another level. If one thought about it - The Professor was a wild card. No one had seen him during the fight, he had simply vanished - the possibility of him being alive wasn’t too abysmal. On the other hand... According to Dimitri, Dedue was last seen in live combat, battling guards, and shielding the Prince. It was way more believable that he had perished in the fighting, or had been executed by the Dukedom if he had indeed survived long enough for Dimitri to run.

When that absolute unit busted it onto the bridge, saving everyone’s collective asses from the Demonic Beast, you really thought shit was looking up. And when the vassal returned to his lord, Dimitri clasped a hand on his shoulder, in complete and utter disbelief. “Dedue! Why... How are you here? You died. Five years ago...”

“I was saved by my brothers. Men of Duscur.” He answered, his new scarf billowing behind him. He looked like such a proud warrior now.

“Those people you were with... They were of Duscur? And they saved you?” The prince still seemed in awe that the man in front of him was solid matter.

Dedue nodded. “Your Highness, I asked that you fulfill your long-held desire, did I not? Allow me to once again act as your sword and shield.” He brought a hand to the arm on his shoulder. “Please, let me witness your triumph. I want to behold the moment your wish is finally granted.”

“Dedue... Of course. And in exchange, I ask that you swear something to me, here and now.” He took a moment to squeeze his dear friend’s hand, reassuring himself that this was reality. “Do not ever throw your life away again.” His voice broke. “Understood?”

“Your Highness... Understood.” The man replied with a slight bow, still allowing Dimitri to hold onto him and process things.

 After hearing that, you could have sworn the Prince would come back to you. Back to his senses. But, much like The Professor situation, it seemed again to only make him double down.

Also. Who the fuck was The Maiden, and why was no one else terribly worried about the literal child wanting to join the fucking army on a quest for vengeance? You thought you were stroking out when Dimitri said, “Let her do as she pleases.” In response to what was to be done about her. Did he not see the slightly crazed look in her eye? Well... He wasn’t a fair person to ask that... Did anyone who was currently not suffering from hallucinogenic psychosis see that? She directed it at him. And only him. You tried to bring up your concerns to Rodrigue, but he only shook his head at you, telling you that he would respect the commands of His Highness. Apparently, you were the only person seeing the major red flags here.

In the weeks leading up to the Battle at Gronder, you attempted to sit with the prince in the cathedral as you had grown accustomed to, but more importantly to watch out for that odd girl. Every time you saw her, a chill ran down your spine. He stopped you as you approached, a very sickening smile quickly fading from his face. “(Y/N)... I want to be alone right now.”

“Have I done something to upset you?” You were taken back a bit. You had thought that having Dedue back would have made him less withdrawn. Oh sweetie, you thought.

He shook his head, keeping his gaze away from you. “No. I just need to be by myself.” 

And as you left him, you heard him mumbling to the damned. So close to the heart of the empire, not even you could talk him down. Your sway over him could not have been lost to the dead at a worse time. The madness you had experienced from him when you two were alone... it almost seemed exasperated. He was tired then. He was sad. He was doing what he did so he could sleep at night - but he tried to keep it to himself for the most part, with varying degrees of success. The closer the army got to the empire, the more his behavior resembled that of when he first snapped. Erratic, angry, reckless, and very open about it. He didn’t want you to see him like that. 

He still let you stay in his bed, but he did not lie with you. You once stirred to feel him drape a fallen blanket over you, but that was all the direct acknowledgment from him you received for some time. A month passed. You kept working. Kept preparing for the fight that would turn the tide of the war.

Gronder field looked exactly as it had five years ago, during The Mock Battle of the Eagle and Lion... Except now everything was on fire. Not just a little on fire. But very on fire. The Empire had bombed the field, creating a smoke screen so thick that it was impossible to tell ally from enemy. Wherever he was out there, you hoped that Claude was staying out of the thick of it. You didn’t need to hear that someone from the Kingdom had slayed the Alliance leader in the confusion. 

That was not that case, although something just as bad, perhaps worse, occurred.

You saw her at the end, The Maiden, booking it across the field as the dust was settling, the Kingdom’s victory apparent. She was running at the prince as he pursued the retreating Emperor. He was so close to what he wanted. Everything he wanted. “I’ll kill all of them! No matter how many hundreds or thousands of them there are!” A tribute for the dead. Vengeance. Peace. Closure. 

Everything about the situation made you anxious, so you left the other medics and you ran to catch up with the girl, trying to figure out why she wasn’t going back to camp, why she had a short sword in her hands. “Hey, miss! Come on, we need to leave!”

She slowed to a jog, realizing you weren’t going to leave her be. “My brother... I need to avenge my brother.”

You recognized the way she spoke. It was the same way His Highness spoke of Edelgard. Vehement loathing. Murderous disgust. “Miss, you can fight another day, please. We have to get everyone out of here.” You attempted to be reasonable, ever diplomatic and calm. “The Imperial reinfor-” You had tried to reach out and grab the girl’s sleeve, try to pull her back - and suddenly you felt an old wound light up. Your abdomen felt like it was on fire. Your stomach. Then your hip. They lit up with pain. 

The girl was driving her blade through you repeatedly. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She growled with each stab.

You let go of her in a state of shock, stumbling back, before falling to your knees. You looked down, confused. Red. Lot’s of red. Then you looked back up to the maiden, “Wha...” What have you done? You wanted to ask. Your mouth tasted metallic, blood dripping from the corners of your lips as you babbled to ask the girl why she had done that to you. Oh fuck. Just like that, no remorse in her eyes, she turned and continued her rush to the Prince. It clicked with you then. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!  Dimitri had killed her brother. You had to warn him. You had to stop her!

You struggled to stand. To limp after her. Something... Anything. The Prayer Ring, his gift to you would keep you alive. But the world was already getting dark around you. It couldn’t stem the blood loss immediately. Dimitri, Rodrigue, The Professor, all blurry shapes in the distance. The girl was getting out of sight too. You couldn’t catch up. Not now. You couldn’t even get up. Something else... You had to do something else. You could salvage this. You could still warn him, maybe. You hacked as much blood out of your mouth as you were able, and with an agonizing deep breath, you screamed, “Rodrigue!” You took in another breath, your skull throbbing, “Stop her!” He was the closest to the prince, whose back was turned.

Lord Fraldarius turned in your direction, hearing you cry out. That put the maiden in his direct line of sight. “You... What are you doing here?! It’s too dangerous! Fall back, now!”

Your world got darker and darker, as you watched her drive the short sword through Dimitri’s shoulder, he thrashed, knocking her away, stumbling forward. You continued to collapse under your own weight, landing face first in the grass. “Don’t take him from me again.” You begged The Goddess. It was out of your hands now. Byleth and Rodrigue would have to protect him.

You heard Lord Fraldarius yell for the prince. Then things got quiet for you.

“You can’t leave me too..!” You blinked awake some time later, curled in the prince’s cloak, a desperate rasp in his voice. “(Y/N)..!” He cradled you to his chest, as someone, maybe Mercedes mended your wounds. It was not your time yet, it seemed. The ring had kept you alive. You whispered his name a few times, trying to ease his panic. He scarcely seemed to hear you.

The army made it back to the monastery under heavy rainfall, preventing an imperial pursuit. You had not seen Dimitri in hours, since you were ordered bed rest. They still put you in his room though.

It seems people had picked up on that arrangement.

Your grief was immeasurable. Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius. The Shield of Fhargus. He was gone. The man gave you a home. A purpose. He gave your dear one’s an army. He believed in what you had set out to do; what the others had set out to do so sincerely. But that belief meant nothing. He was dead. Was it your fault? You don’t think so, but, maybe if you had tried to cast a spell, yelled out sooner, anything really, things could have been different. That was what you had to contemplate, as you lay awake in bed, weeping from the combined physical and emotional pain. 

Dimitri returned later in the evening, soaked to the bone. You attempted to snap up to get a better look at him. He swept across the room and kept you down before you reopened any wounds in your rush. You grasped at his arms, keeping him from moving away. Not wanting to hurt you, he knelt at your bedside, rather than pull back. You stared at each other for a moment. You could tell fairly easily that you both had been crying. He finally broke the silence, “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better, could be worse...” You gave a slight shrug. “I... I’m... kinda grieving, but I’m alive...”

“I’m so glad you’re alright...” He shifted his grip to hold your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I couldn’t lose you too...”

Your chest tightened. You didn’t want to talk about loss right now. It was far too fresh in your minds. A subject change was in order. “Where have you been..?” You asked - you attempted to joke, “Did you throw yourself in the pond or something?”

He let out a huff of air, at least slightly amused but the frown on his face deepened. “I was speaking with The Professor.”

“You were going to leave, weren’t you?” You frowned as well, grasping onto him tighter. You could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek. He really was going to go... He was going to go to Enbarr. “Don’t go...”

“I’m not going anywhere... Not anymore. I just...” His sigh had the weight of the world behind it. “I’m so tired, (Y/N). I can’t bear any more blood of my loved one’s on my hands. I want this to end...”

Against everyone’s better judgement you fought to sit upright. You made yourself quite dizzy, but you’d survive it. You were so tired of constantly being taken out of commission anyway. You wanted to clear those lovely golden strands from his face. You found that he had begun to cry again.

“What... What do I say to Felix?” He coughed out a sob. “How can I look him in the eye when his brother... now his father died for a monster like me?!” His voice got louder, to the point where he started to shout, “Who else gets taken from him because of me? Who’s next?! Ingrid, Sylvain? Annette?!”

There was a brief pause between you, but you both jumped with a start when the door slammed in the next room over. Your head’s snapped that way. Felix’s room... He must have heard all of that.

“(Y/N).” The broken man before you slumped, burying his face in the sheets of the bed. “What do I do now..?”

“I think you should... you should apologize to everyone you’ve hurt...” You gently brushed your fingers through his wet hair. “Tell Annie you’re sorry for yelling at her. Apologize to Ingrid and Sylvain for avoiding them... And you need to talk to Felix... Apologize to The Professor... Everyone...” You had started to choke up again as well. You felt awful. You felt like you had just let him lash out at people, instead stopping him. “Where you start... that might be up to you...”

He got off the floor, and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into a gentle embrace. He could have crushed you in his state, but you knew he wouldn’t. He cared far too much to let that happen. The two of you took some time to cry. A much needed catharsis for you both. You both tried to soothe each other. You both tried to get it together first, help the other, only to break again, feeling undeserving of the warmth and love the other was showing. 

After perhaps an hour, the prince collected himself enough to give his first apology. “I... I’m so sorry, my beloved.”

Chapter Text

Beloved. That’s what he had called you. He loved you back. He loved you back! You had slammed your lips into his, cutting off whatever grievances and offenses he had done to you that he was going to repent for. Whatever they were, you forgave him for now. Beloved. How long had he considered you to be such a thing? Did he ever plan on opening up to you on the matter? Beloved. You felt him brush away the tears on your face as he began to kiss you back. You broke away from him chest heaving. You wanted to continue, desperately so... but you were in no condition to. 

And he was well aware of that. He could tell that it was hurting you to breath. With that exceptional caution he had always exhibited for you, even when maddened, he laid you back down. “Please... you must rest...” he begged you.

You were inclined to agree.

You were gratefully the two of you got to cry it out. You didn’t want to bottle up any more emotions than you already had. That just wasn’t healthy for either of you. You had a lot to work through, this was just a start. You also had a lot of work to do... Or you thought you did?

As soon as you were well enough to sit upright, and to walk for long enough periods of time, you went right back to your research, staying in the library so you didn’t strain yourself too much. You had almost entirely forgotten that you had narrowed down your candidates of the illness’s identity to three. So when you had finally reviewed your lists closely you didn’t realize what you had found at first.

You had stared down at your parchment, one final name on your list. Crimson Fever. It was a lot like scarlet fever, symptom wise, but it hadn’t appeared in Fodlan as a major outbreak for at least a few centuries - which is why when it was the only thing written, you didn’t believe it at first. It had been lost to time. But no, based on your notes, the key distinctions were there. In scarlet fever, the main effect was a painful red rash, usually affecting children. With Crimson Fever, the rash bled, and it was reported broadly across all age groups, not to mention, it was a very long running fever. You looked down at your notes for a moment, puzzled. Did... did I get it? You looked down at your symptoms and candidate lists again... “Holy fuck...” You whispered out loud. A nearby nun gasped out slightly offended at your foul language. You did not have time to care. You sprang up from the table, “HOLY FUCK, I GOT IT!” You yelled. You had successfully offended every person in the library at once. Again, you did not have time to care. You grabbed your notes in a frenzied hurry, and you sprinted down the hall to the infirmary. You needed someone to fact check you. Peer review would determine how right you were. “Manuela! Manuela! Holy shit, holy shit!” You called out to the woman.

You heard her groan loudly. Sounded like she had a hangover. She was able to go out again, now that things were getting lively back in town. She looked up at you from the table, seeing you trembling with excitement. “What’s up, hun?”

“I got it!” You exclaimed, positively beaming.

She could see your clear anxious joy. “‘Got’ what, kiddo?” She rubbed her temples a bit, “Also, lower your voice a little...”

“Oh, yes ma’am. Sorry!” You cleared your throat, then dropped a few decibels. “I think I’ve identified the mystery illness.”

She squinted at you, “Say again?”

“I think it’s Crimson Fever, but I need someone to check my work - please - If I actually got it we can save so many lives I can’t even-”

“Slow down, hun.” She shushed your rambling, but she stood and took your notes from your hands, bringing them back over to the table. “Crimson... The last time I’ve seen that even mentioned is a footnote in a history textbook...”

You nodded, trailing after her. “It’s old... really old, and pretty obscure... But, I’ve been pouring over this for months now, and it matches the historical account really well!”

You watched nervously as she scanned your notes with her surprisingly kean eye. You hated when anyone doubted how sharp this woman was. Truly. Who recognized Dorothea’s talent? Who went from songstress to doctor? Who was the first person to identify Flayn’s kidnapper?  It was her, damn it. It was her. “Oh good goddess above...” You heard her whisper. She turned to you in awe. “You might be right, (Y/N).”

You were shaking so much you might as well have been vibrating. The two of you decided to call some more medics up, have a round table council so your work could be further verified.

You nearly jumped out the window when Lindhardt walked in. You had been strategically avoiding him for weeks now. “Ah! Keep a ten foot radius!” You made your way to the opposite side of the table.

The carefree man gave you a confused look. “Why..?” Why? Why?! You had wanted to knock his fucking lights out, you just hadn’t had the time or the energy. The audacity of this bitch!

“Lin, I had to translate your notes to get this far - and your handwriting is just... I’ve never been so angry from just trying to read something.” You were trying to explain this in a way that didn’t make you sound insane. ‘I can’t read your shit, and now I’m gonna beat you up.’

“Oh, so you’re probably going to hit me to vent your frustrations, right?” He nodded to himself. “Understandable. I probably could have re-written all that for you, but I guess I wasn’t around yet.” This guy and Claude, always spot on. But Claude was never blunt to the point of you wanting to strangle him.

“Yeah. So you stay on that side of the room, and I’ll stay over here... and no one gets punched.” You took a seat at the table next to Manuela, pushing your work towards the gathered medics. Mercedes, Marianne, Linhardt, and a few monks.

“Crimson Fever..?” The green haired noble queried to the air. “I don’t think there’s been a documented case of that since Ionius the Third...”

“Are there any known treatment options..?” Marianne asked quietly.

You began to shuffle around some additional notes towards her. “There are a few things on record for dealing with the symptoms and-”

One of the monks cut in, “We don’t even know if she’s correctly identified it.”

“No, she’s right.” Mercedes smiled down at your paperwork. “I’ve been treating the latest patients. The symptoms match perfectly.” She turned her attention to you, with her soft, motherly gaze. “You’ve done it, (Y/N).”

You could feel your face heating up. You really did it... You had finished the mission. You had finished your mission from Lord Fraldarius. 

You felt Manuela’s hand take yours, giving you a squeeze. “Your mother would be so proud of you...” The woman pulled you into a hug as you had begun to sniffle. “Aw, don’t cry kiddo, this is a good thing...”

My mother...

Word of your discovery spread quickly. With the knowledge you had procured, the pestilence running rampant through the army, through the citizens, could finally be dealt with. No one else needed to suffer from it. You had done it. You had done your family justice, finally.

Now what?

Truly, what were you supposed to do now? The Lord you answered to was gone, and Felix didn’t seem to want to step in. The regent of Frauldarius territory had yet to issue new orders. You were probably going to stay and continue to assist the war effort, but then what? Where were you going to go after that? Well, back to father first, probably... But... You were getting aimless.

Dimitri was doing much better, at least. You actually saw him smiling from time to time - and not in a crazed way. He had apologized to much of the friend group he had wronged so terribly. He had finally forgiven himself enough to actually be happy. Although, things felt... awkward between you. He wasn’t quite avoiding you, but whenever you were in the same space, he tried to avoid your eyes... Until one day, he gave you a gift.

You had taken to gardening more frequently, now that your schedule was considerably more open. The head gardener certainly didn’t seem to mind, with so many mouths around to feed. They were also quite impressed with your Gladiolus flowers. They offhand had said something about you pouring your blood, sweat, and tears into them. They were uncomfortably right. You were sitting on the floor, tending to some zanado fruit, when you were called to from behind. You peered over your shoulder, and saw the prince in his new Great Lord armor - White was a good look for him, much less gloomy. He still had a blue cloak on, which was fair. He had a side to represent, but you couldn’t help but wonder where the old one went. “Hello, Dimitri!” You smiled. He was so pleasant on the eyes with his hair tied back. Some of his lovely golden hair stayed in his face, but it was charming, if a bit rugged.

He stretched out a hand along with his, “Good morning,” helping you stand. He was back to being a gentleman again, offering you his arm. “Would you care to join me for a short walk?”

You looked to the gardener, who waved you off with a smile, before taking the prince’s offer. The two of you strolled about for a short time in silence, ending up by the gazebo within the hedges. “I like the new armor.”

“Thank you, Gustave had heard a few too many people saying I needed to lighten up, so he had it commissioned.”

“Gustave?” That wasn’t a name you were familiar with.

“Ah, apologies. That was the name Gilbert went by when he still served my father.” He cleared his throat, shifting the subject, “Nevermind all that, I heard your research was successfully concluded.”

The two of you took a seat on a nearby bench. “Yes, now that we know what we’re dealing with, we can start to treat people properly.”

“I believe congratulations are in order then,” he reached into his cloak, and returned with a parcel wrapped in a white silk cloth. “This is a gift for you.” He pressed it into your hands, and you noticed the fair amount of weight to it. “Please, open it, if you’d like.”

You unraveled the delicate cloth, revealing a sheathed main gauche dagger. A weapon for the off hand in fencing... For all it’s simplicity, it was extremely aesthetically pleasing. You popped the blade out to view it more clearly. It was silver, perhaps a foot long, polished so well you could see your reflection in it. The quillion curved upward, made to catch and stop attacking blades, protecting the user. The handle was wrapped in a strip of leather, dyed a gorgeous royal blue. And on the bottom of the pommel was an engraving of the Crest of Blaiddyd. “Dimitri, thank you... it’s beautiful.”

“Nowhere near as beautiful as you.” His stare was fixated on you, almost mesmerized. You looked at him rather incredulously, not entirely sure you had heard him correctly. You watched his mouth clamp shut as he realized what he had said.  “I... That was rather forward of me...” He quickly turned away from you, standing and speed walking from you faster than light, “Please, excuse me.”

“Hey, w-wait!” You got up after him. “Dimitri! Where are you-” He had already turned a corner, leaving your line of sight. You were going to have to catch up with him if you wanted to get answers for what he had just blurted out to you. You sheathed your new dagger, and suspended it at the belt of your skirt, before giving chase. 

You rounded up the corner, but he was nowhere in sight. Holy fuck, that was fast... You whipped your head around frantically. Where could he have possibly gone? He would have still been visible if he had headed towards the cathedral, so he had to have gone toward the market first. You sprinted off in that direction. You weren’t sure what you were going to say to him if you caught up, but that was a problem for later! You made your way through the stable, trying not to startle any horses, and you made it to the market. You were forced to take a small breather, your wounds aching at your sudden strain. It annoyed you, allowing the prince to gain more ground - and you weren’t even absolutely certain he had gone this way. The trouble with this area was that he could have either disappeared in the crowded shops, into the entrance hall, or he could have continued on through to the fishing pond.

You huffed a bit, prepping to start running regardless, when you noticed a familiar face standing by. “Mister Gatekeeper!” You hollered, jogging over to him.

“Greetings, Lady (Y/N)! Nothing to report!” The stalwart guardian smiled at you, “What can I do for you?”

Bless him, he was so reliable. So good. Best boy. “Mister Gatekeeper, did you see His Highness come through here?” You asked him, finally catching your breath.

“His Highness?” You saw his head tilt beneath his helmet. “He was running towards the greenhouse about a minute ago. Is everything alright?”

You nodded, “I just need to talk to him.” You renewed your pursuit, “Thank you, Mister Gatekeeper!” One of these days you were going to have to figure out his real name... That day was not today, you had a prince to find! You bounded around yet another corner, and hustled down the stairs to the pond. He once more didn’t appear anywhere you could see him. So he hadn’t headed up to the training ground, and he did not duck into the greenhouse, since the gardener was the only person still there. You did the mental math quickly. He went to hide in his room. Up the stairs you went then. You booked it down the hall, and when you got to the door... 

No one was there. Shit. Did you really go the wrong way off the bat? And then through the wall, you heard Sylvain, “You didn’t give her a dagger, did you? Is that why you’re hiding? Does she have a dagger, Dimitri?”

You heard the Prince next, “Look, you kept true...” His voice was softer than Sylvains, making it difficult to pick up on what he said. You crept back out of the room, and to the next door over.

“Nobody’s ever accused you of being funny.” Sylvain said rather bluntly.

You could picture the frustrated shake of his head, “I clearly underestimated the difficulty of the task. But... What do I do now?”

The prince’s old friend reassured him. “Relax, Your Highness, Relax. I’ll sort this whole thing out, real easy.” He continued on, but you hadn’t quite heard that part.

Dimitri also murmured something else, but you were able to hear, “I cannot place this immense burden on your shoulders...”

“This is no job for an amateur. You need a professional’s help.” You heard some clanging, which you could only assume was Sylvain’s gauntlet giving the prince’s armor a comforting pat.

You had enough of this ridiculousness. You needed to clear things up with Dimitri! However you were still a terribly polite person, so you knocked on the door first instead of barging in. “You’re a good man, Sylvain. I’m sorry to do this to you. Best of luck!”

“Please, Your Highness. I’ve spent years honing my skills for just this situation. Watch and learn.” The door opened, and there stood the future Margrave Gautier. You caught a bit of blue in the corner of your eye, but Sylvain quickly narrowed the opening.

“Sylvain, is Dimitri with you?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Uh, you know what?” He suddenly stepped forward, further blocking the doorway. It failed to hide a smear of blue throwing itself out the window at mach one. “He just left.”

Your jaw dropped. “He... he just jumped out the window...”

“Yeah.” He finally let go of the door, nothing left to hide.

“We’re on the second floor, is he gonna be okay?!” You were completely bewildered.

“Absolutely.” The red-head laughed, suddenly leaning down to be eye level with you. “Did he really give you a dagger though?” His eyes flicked down to the knife on your waist. “He actually did it...” He knocked his head back and cackled, “He really did it! He gave you-”

You let him finish wheezing. He was having a great time. “I need to go talk to him.” You were about to turn and go make sure Dimitri didn’t just break both of his ankles, Sylvain caught your sleeve.

“Wait, wait! Don’t go after him for a bit. He needs to think about what he did.” The man took a few deep breaths, pulling himself back together. “He’s a little flustered right now. He’ll come to you when he’s calmed down.”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s flustered? Sylvain, if anyone is flustered right now it’s me!” It was actually quite fascinating how his lucidity made him quite shy. He had been quite forward with you prior to all this.

“Awww, poor little (Y/N) is nervous because the prince called her pretty.” He gave you an over dramatic frown. You raised a hand sparking with magic to him, and the facade dropped right away, raising his hands defensively, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Have mercy!”

You decided to spare him... for now , but a pout remained constant on your face. 

“Cheer up, (Y/N). Listen, maybe you can help me out with something, get your mind off of His Highness for a bit.”

You squinted at him. “Depends on what it is..?”

You noticed him take another deep breath. “Okay, so... I was with Ingrid the other day, and it really hit me just how... cute she is.”

“Okay...” Everyone knew Ingrid was cute, like, come on.

“But she wasn’t wearing makeup!” He blurted out, as though that was supposed to mean something to you. “She’s cute without makeup, and I don’t know why!”

“Sylvain, it sounds like you probably have a crush on Ingrid.”

You thought you heard glass shattering, but it was more likely Sylvain’s entire world crashing down on him. “Could you say that again, but slower?”

“You, Sylvain Jose Gautier,” You poked him for good measure, “Have romantic feelings, for your childhood friend,” You then gestured down the hallway towards her room, “Ingrid Brandl Galatea.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, his face turning red, and then slammed his door shut. From the other side, you heard him let out a scream. Yeah, you weren’t going to touch that one with a ten foot pole. All you had left to do was take his advice, and let the prince come find you.

And so you gardened, and you assisted in the infirmary, and then you gardened some more. You went fishing with The Professor, and you helped Dedue in the kitchen. There were a few times when you journeyed into town, now that the populace wasn’t fucking terrified of you by association, and you did your best to heal the burns on the apothecary’s daughter. She was doing so much better, much to your relief. You had even spent some time teaching the little bread girl, Mari, how to use heal, after one of the other kids who followed her around scraped their knee. You’re never too young to learn the basics of healing magic!

Shortly before the army was to depart and retake Fhirdiad, one afternoon the prince tracked you down in the infirmary. “(Y/N), do you have a moment?”

“Yes...” You had just wrapped up your shift, but you had yet to think of what you were going to say to him in these past few days.

“I am going riding, would you be able to join me?”

“I would like that...” You stepped out of the room, and out of earshot from Manuela, who would have drop-kicked the prince if she had heard your question, “You aren’t going to run off on me right?”

“I apologize for my behavior the other day. I felt a bit... overwhelmed, for lack of a better word.” You took his arm, and allowed him to walk you down to the stable where a noble chestnut trail horse awaited you. There was only one. Charming bastard was going to have you ride with him, literally. “Would you like me to lift you on?” He asked.

It seemed he recalled how you teased him for grabbing you by the legs all those years back. How polite of him. “That would be nice, thank you.” As you requested, he carefully grabbed you at the waist, then set you down side saddle on the horse, hopping on after you. Off you went.

You rode out from the monastery and into the hillsides in silence for a good deal of time. His Highness had mentioned he enjoyed them, that they cleared his head, within the decade but it seemed more like a lifetime ago. He kept you secure with an arm around your body, keeping you close to him, his gloved fingers woven in yours. Even through the armor, he was warm as always. “I’ve said it a few times before, but I do like to hold your hands. But they’re still soft... they aren’t covered in scars.” He rested his chin on top of your head. “I am relieved you’ve gotten by these few years relatively unscathed...”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, “I hesitate to call anything that has happened to me recently ‘unscathed.’” Between the spear at the beginning, the mental and emotional damage, the loss of innocence, and being run through by an vengeful blade multiple times, you were not walking out of this war unscathed.

“I said ‘relatively.’” You felt his jaw clench as he frowned. “You and I... we have much to discuss.”

“Yes. I’ll start.” Your stomach suddenly felt a bit knotted up. You had to ask about the way he grabbed you that night. It was the elephant in the room. In every room. One of the only things you had yet to even address together. “The night before The Professor reappeared, you... I thought you were going to strangle me.”

“You must have been terribly frightened.” Sincerity dripped from every word he spoke. “I am sorry I dared to lay my hands on you like that.”

“Why did you do it?” You asked him. You had never been that afraid of him before. Maddened as he was, it was clear that he had no desire to do you harm. If anything, he was endearingly caring and protective - so why?

“I am terrified that this may not make much sense, but please bear with me.” He began. “I had not allowed myself to feel any form of joy for five miserable years. To do so would betray the damned that haunted me so incessantly. Only in violence was I able to express anything. But (Y/N), being around you, for the first time in so long I was...”

“You were happy...” You finished for him.

He nodded. “The dead berated me for it, constantly. And when you implied any affection for me it became... painful.”

“So when I said that you were loved,”

“It was unbearable.” There was a hint of a tremble in his voice, “They screamed for me to get rid of you... but I could never...”

“Dimitri...” You twisted yourself a ways so that you could look up at him. He looked pale, afraid... He would never hurt you. Never. Harm coming to you was more agonizing to him than any uproar from the dead would ever be.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)... I cannot tell you that enough.” The frown on his face deepened, as the trail horse came to graze in a field. It was a lovely meadow, golden grass as far as the eye could see. The prince helped you down, and the two of you settled into the grass, continuing your conversation. “That is hardly all I have to apologize to you for.”

Your eyes widened, slightly surprised. This was really the only thing you were holding against him. Everything else you at least understood as part of him distancing himself from others to avoid them getting hurt, or being more heavily involved in his desire for vengeance.

You saw the faintest red on his face as he searched for the right wording. “When I... demanded that you sleep with me, I feel as though I...” The red faded, his voice getting quiet and grave, “Did I force you into it..?”

You looked up in shock, “No, no, no, no, Dimitri! You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to!” This sweet man, even at his worst, had constantly verified your consent. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug, and trying to ease his doubts, “If anything, I’m at fault. I wasn’t even sure you were all there mentally, and I still went along with it... That just... that wasn’t right of me.” It hit you quite hard then. You hadn’t been sure. And you just... wow. Oh dear...

“(Y/N), I knew what I was doing when I asked you - do not let that trouble you.” He returned the hug around you. So neither of you had done anything regrettable... Something deeply insidious. Thank the Goddess.

You both stayed like that a while. Being... okay... together. Yes. You two were okay. You were going to be okay. Both of you.

“What will you do after the war, (Y/N)?” The prince asked, finally pulling away from you.

Oh fuck, that was a dreaded question. You couldn’t even hit him with the ‘no you,’ and ask him first. He was going to become king. There was no doubt he would end this war victoriously. His future was well plotted. Yours? You could become a physician, you supposed, since a field medic wouldn’t be a constant necessity in peace times. But there was the issue of your father’s business. He was not going to make you take over if you didn’t want to - but that was also a major reason you had so many suitors at home - people wanted the connections, the wealth, and marrying you would secure that. You were going to have to deal with all that nonsense first... “Well, according to my father, I have a cabal of suitors to fence before they can become a candidate for my hand in marriage.”

“Oh, I see...” He drummed his fingers in the grass, “Is there a registration set up for that, or should I write your father?”

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt. Should he write your father for what ? To join the list of suitors? Why would he want to- “Dimitri, are you-”

“Proposing? Yes. Or, I’m trying to.” He went shuffling around under his cloak, the red dusting his face again, “I don’t seem to be very good at this...” His smile was bashful.

“Wait, what?” You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, your face heating up.

“May I see your hand?” Fully on autopilot, you did as he asked, and watched dumbstruck as he slipped a ring onto your finger. Not a prayer ring, but a wedding band. “(Y/N), my beloved, when this war is over... will you marry me?”

Now, the short answer was HELL YEAH! But the long answer was a lot more complicated, and much more conflicted. You had no crest. You had no nobility. You had been trying to figure out for years why people referred to you as ‘Lady,’ since you had no title. “Am... Am I allowed to marry you?” Wouldn’t that cause an entire court uproar? The king, marrying a commoner? Was there a historical example of a commoner queen? This probably wasn’t the best political move... like at all.

“I do not see why not.” He must have seen the confusion on your face, “I have never cared for one’s noble status, you know that.”

If not for status, then he was marrying you for... seventeen year old you would have lost her shit. Were your teenage affections for someone you had been so convinced you could never have really ended happily? “Dimitri, I love you..!” You blurted out. Love. He was marrying you for love.

“I suppose that is a ‘yes,’ then?” The shy smile on his face grew wider when you nodded. “I love you too,” He told you, before bringing you close for a soft series of pecks on the lips.

What was the wedding going to look like? Perhaps Dedue would be the best man, and the other three Blue Lion boys could be groomsman. But what could Claude be? A fourth groomsmen would be such overkill... Claude had to be in the wedding! No way you were leaving your wing-man out of it! Maybe you could convince him to be your maid of honor? If you tried your damnedest you could probably convince him of it. You wouldn’t force him to wear a gown for it or anything! And then the Blue Lion girls could be your bridesmaids. You were sure you could convince Seteth, or Gilbert, or even The Professor to ordain the whole thing. Maybe you would ask little Mari if she wanted to be a flower girl... Thinking ahead, weren’t you?

There was going to be quite a bit of planning - and you had to finish the war before all this of course... But for now, you would write your father so that he could tell the suitors you had selected a worthy husband, and that they needed to fuck right off.