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It had been years since Dimitri could hear an unfamiliar voice without instinctively reaching for the nearest weapon. When a crowd of soldiers at dinner erupted into laughter a few tables down, he considered it a blessing that the sound warmed his heart rather than sending it into a frenzy. Some days, recovery from isolation felt as unreachable as the pale moon that hung over Garreg Mach, but he lived for days like today, when the commotion of the dining hall reminded him not of lurking enemies, but of his allies.
Maybe Sylvain had only invited him to have a late dinner together because he couldn’t find a date, but Dimitri appreciated the company regardless. For once, he felt rested, and the ever-looming mound of work that’d accumulated over the years continued to shrink at a steady pace. He’d even been able to secure a bowl of onion gratin soup.
Sitting across the table from him, Sylvain gestured with a fork while he spoke. “And then she actually accused me of stealing. As if she hadn’t just watched the duck follow me around the entire marketplace.” He took a bite of meat and shook his head. “Rejection I can handle, but that was something else. I feel like I was better at this back at the academy.”
“Were you? I seem to recall hearing similar stories back then, too,” Dimitri replied, taking an experimental sip from the soup. Although he couldn’t taste it, the smell and warmth brought back a scattering of pleasant memories.
“Hey, at least I’m trying,” Sylvain said. “When was the last time you even invited someone out for a reason besides training?”
He frowned. “Sylvain, now is hardly the time to be concerned with such matters. Besides, I have plenty to keep me busy already.” After a pause to blow on a spoonful of steaming broth, he added, “I don’t even know who I would ask.”
Sylvain snorted. “Yeah, and I’m going to be the next archbishop.” At Dimitri’s questioning look, he said, “Oh, come on. I think you and I both know exactly who you’d ask.”
“I’m afraid not,” Dimitri said, lifting the spoon to his mouth.
“Well, you have a thing for Byleth, right?”
Dimitri choked.
Sylvain slid him a cup of water and leaned back before continuing. “Gotta say, I never would’ve guessed you were into that sort of thing. I get it, though. It’s true she was only our professor for a year, but that still counts. I mean, who hasn’t at least thought about it, right? You should hear some of the things—”
“Would you please ,” Dimitri hissed the moment he was able, “ lower your voice. ”
His face felt hot, but maybe that could be explained away by the choking. The sounds of camaraderie that’d been so comforting moments ago now felt pointed, every caught eye and overheard snicker directed at him. Hundreds of denials came to Dimitri’s mind, but which should he even start with?
A grin spread across Sylvain’s face. “Relax, Your Highness, it was just a joke. I know that isn’t the real reason you’ve fallen for her.”
“The real reason I’ve—?” Dimitri repeated, feeling the first tendrils of real panic. It couldn’t be that obvious, could it? And if it was, and rumors began to circle…Goddess forbid such words reach Byleth’s ears.
He cleared his throat and put on his best authoritative voice. “I can assure you that I have no idea what you’re talking about. Honestly, I’ve never even...You should not make assumptions, or treat rumors as fact. Byleth is a capable warrior, and I have the utmost respect for her, but to—to insinuate anything else, is....”
Sylvain waited until his friend had trailed off before shaking his head. “You know, Dimitri, you’re a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them. Even when we were kids,” he said. Cutting another bite of meat, he pointed with his knife. “Might as well just fess up. It’ll make you feel better.”
Growing desperate, Dimitri scrambled to devise a better argument. He and Byleth were good friends, so of course they spent a lot of time in each other’s company. If he tried his best to make her smile whenever they had a conversation together, or admired how her eyes lit up the moment a stray dog licked her outstretched hand, that was merely part of being a supportive, platonic friend.
Dimitri opened his mouth to voice these thoughts. One look at Sylvain’s expression, however, killed the remainder of his resolve before a single word could escape.
And so, face still burning, he hung his head and let out a long sigh. Part of being a good ruler meant knowing when to admit defeat. “Alright,” Dimitri said. “How many people know?”
“Well, there’s me, obviously,” Sylvain answered, seeming pleased with himself. “Dorothea figured it out first. I think Mercedes might have caught on, and if I’m right about that, then it’s safe to assume Annette knows, too.”
As more names came up, Dimitri sank lower and lower into his seat. If the goddess had any mercy, she would grant him a swift death, right here and now. A bolt of lightning. A pit opening up beneath his chair. Anything.
Of course, no such wish came true.
When Sylvain finished speaking, the final list amounted to a handful of former students and two or three Knights of Seiros. “I’m only totally sure about myself and Dorothea, though. And don’t worry, we haven’t told anyone else,” he promised, taking a sip of his drink. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Byleth has caught on, either. You’d have to do something major for that.”
The words provided little comfort. Dimitri trusted his friends, but rumors had a habit of spreading. One errant whisper could spell his end. Already, he imagined the people seated at nearby tables overhearing this conversation and relaying it to others.
“Sylvain, please tell me this is a bad dream,” Dimitri said, sinking his head in his hands. The soup he’d been looking forward to earlier now cooled in its bowl, forgotten.
“Nope, you’re wide awake, Your Highness!” Sylvain declared. “But I’d be happy to help make your dream come true, if you catch my meaning.”
Dimitri groaned.
It looked like he might’ve added something else, but instead, Sylvain forked the last remnant of his dinner and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, his expression became thoughtful, gaze drifting across the dining hall. When he spoke again, the teasing tone had vanished. “You could’ve picked anyone, but it had to be her, huh? Way to not make things easy on yourself,” he said. “It’ll take more than a dagger to win her over, unless you think she feels the same way.”
“How could she?” Dimitri asked, good eye fixed on the table. “If you heard some of the things I said to her months ago, you would be surprised she speaks to me at all.”
“Oh, come on, it isn’t like you threatened to kill her or anything.”
Silence stretched between them.
Dimitri wondered, not for the first time that night, how difficult it would be to bury himself alive.
Sylvain’s eyebrows raised. “Wow. Okay, that’s pretty bad,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Still, though. I’m sure she’s heard worse. And you weren’t exactly yourself back then, either. Remember when you told me to stop sniffing around like a rat?”
“That’s no excuse,” Dimitri replied. Familiar thorns of guilt dug into his heart at the thought of how he’d acted. Months of snapping at anyone who came near him like a rabid animal, and he still had so little to offer them in repentance.
Yet through it all, Byleth had never glared at him with the contempt he deserved, as much as he’d attempted to goad her into it; instead, when their gazes met, he saw the same determination he’d first witnessed outside of Remire Village so many years ago.
And then, after Rodrigue’s death, she’d looked up at him with such compassion and sorrow, taking his hands with a touch far too gentle for a warrior who carved through men and demons as if they were saplings caught in her storm. Standing in the rain, Byleth’s voice had been soft but self-assured, words of comfort spoken with a cadence that suggested she’d been waiting for an opportunity to make them heard. The memory of it still made Dimitri’s heart ache.
How could he possibly wish for more, after all she had already done?
Though if there existed even a fragment of hope that she might feel the same...
The clattering of dishes being stacked nearby snapped Dimitri back to the present, just in time to hear Sylvain finishing a sentence.
“...and, knowing you, Byleth has enough apologies to last her a lifetime by now,” he was saying. “My point is, none of us hold all of that against you, her least of all. Even Felix is starting to come around. You should say something to her.”
Dimitri hummed, unable the help a small smile at the thought of his friends standing by his side, despite what he’d put them through. “Thank you, Sylvain,” he said. “But, at any rate, we’re in the middle of a war. Even if I felt like I could, now isn’t the time to be making confessions.”
“Yeah, I guess someone as skilled in battle as you could say that,” Sylvain replied. “As for me, if I get an arrow in the head next week, I’d want to die knowing I didn’t leave anything unsaid.”
“Sylvain—”
“I know, I know,” he waved Dimitri off, “trust me, I plan on making it to the end of this war. All I’m saying is that you never know what could happen out there, and when. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste any more time.” Sylvain folded his hands behind his head, pondering the ceiling for a second. “That’s just me, though. If you really want to wait it out, I guess I can respect that.”
With that, Dimitri breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping. Not how he’d planned his night to go, but it could have been a lot worse. At least now he could—
“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t start sowing the seeds, you know,” Sylvain said, eyes lighting up. “Luckily, you’ve got me.”
Or, actually, he must be dead already, and he was suffering the wrath of the goddess in the form of this conversation.
Something must have shown on his face, because Sylvain’s expression became a frown. “Come on, don’t look at me like that. Who knows where this war is going to leave any of us, assuming we even survive? You’ll be crowned as king, and most of us have homes to go back to, but Byleth was a mercenary. For all we know, she might not decide stay in Fódlan.”
“You don’t believe she would remain at the monastery?” Dimitri asked.
Sylvain shrugged. “I think she’s as hard to read as ever,” he said, sighing. “Listen, Your Highness. Byleth vanished five years ago, and now she’s back, in spite of the odds. If you let her go now, there’s no guarantee you’re going to get another chance.”
They lapsed into silence again as Dimitri turned the matter over in his mind. Any notions of Byleth leaving the country, or the continent of Fódlan itself, had never occurred to him; the sight of her at Garreg Mach felt too right, as if the goddess herself had placed her there. Now that he considered it, though, it made sense that she might want to leave. One year spent as a professor couldn’t compare to a lifetime of constant travel.
As much as he hated to admit it, Sylvain was right. The war could end next week, for all they knew, and once Rhea resumed her position as archbishop, Byleth’s duties would technically be over.
Regardless, Dimitri was probably going to regret this.
“Alright. What do you suggest?”
By the time Dimitri left the dining hall, the full moon had ascended from its position above the water, now hovering directly overhead the monastery. Of course, Sylvain had been brimming with conversation advice and “foolproof plans” for him to try, taking the time to walk through each step-by-step. The tips about compliments and gifts seemed reasonable enough, but, somehow, Dimitri doubted the effectiveness of having a mage freeze a patch of the ground so that Byleth would slip and fall into his arms.
The cool night air dissipated any remnants of fatigue that might’ve lingered after their discussion. Now, standing at the top of a set of stairs, his mind buzzed with possibilities both good and bad, all tinged with an undercurrent of uncertainty.
If he couldn’t sleep, then perhaps he could at least distract himself with more work.
A patrol passed in front of Dimitri as he headed towards his room, but otherwise only the sounds of crickets and the shifting waves of the fishing pond kept him company. Those who weren’t asleep at this hour either would be soon, tucked away in their beds, or remained awake for one more drink with their comrades.
When he rounded a corner in the direction of the dormitories, however, a movement in the corner of his eye made Dimitri pause. At first, he thought it might’ve been one of the many owls that called Garreg Mach home, but then he noticed a lone figure stepping out from the shadow of the greenhouse.
As though summoned by his thoughts, there stood Byleth.
At the sight of her, Dimitri felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as his thoughts stilled. Clad in her usual gray coat, she meandered along the edge of the pond, gaze turned out over the water. Her pale hair almost appeared silver in the moonlight, concealing her face from him. One hand trailed along the brim of her coat before finding a spot and holding onto it, a motion Dimitri recognized from whenever someone asked her a particularly thought-provoking question.
He lingered in place, unsure whether to approach or continue on to his quarters. A friend would ask Byleth what she had on her mind, or at least ensure all was well, but Sylvain’s words had left him in a disarray. As much as Dimitri wanted to believe that Byleth had not only forgiven him, but accepted him as he was, a voice in his head whispered that it would never be possible. Someone like him didn’t deserve such things.
And yet, hopes that Dimitri had been careful to keep at bay for so long now bloomed without restraint, accompanied by twice as many fears. If nothing else, he needed time alone to prune them before they caused him to say something foolish.
However, those same hopes kept Dimitri rooted in place.
While he stood there deliberating, Byleth seemed to sense that someone was looking at her. Before he could move, she turned, and their eyes met.
No running away now.
Even from a distance, Dimitri noted the familiar way Byleth’s expression softened upon seeing him. He’d learned to recognize the subtle shift in her features years ago, before the war had broken out. Part of him insisted she gave the same look to all of her former students, but it still managed to cause a flutter in his chest.
“Awfully late to be wandering the monastery alone, isn’t it?” he asked once he’d gotten closer.
“I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes a walk helps, but…” Byleth trailed off, frowning. “You’d think that with everything we have going on, sleeping would be the least of my worries.”
Dimitri shook his head. “I am all too familiar restless nights, as I’m sure you are aware. If I had a solution, I would offer it.” He paused, considering, and then continued, “At the very least, I could keep you company, if you’d like. I doubt I’m going to be getting much rest tonight, either.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Byleth said. “But if you start feeling drowsy, don’t keep yourself awake on my account.”
With his agreement, they set off together, following the water’s edge in the direction of the entrance hall. Byleth kept to his left side, a habit she’d begun to follow whenever they were in a secure location. Some of the compliments Sylvain had suggested earlier came to mind, and Dimitri did his best to sift through them, rejecting anything that sounded too...well, Sylvain. As it so happened, that ended up being most of them.
Hadn’t he given an example where he compared a girl’s blonde hair to sunlight? That seemed harmless enough. And, in truth, the day Byleth had returned with her new hair color, he’d been reminded of a particular plant a knight once brought home when he was a child.
Would she consider that flattering, though? Dimitri couldn’t recall Byleth ever saying she disliked her hair, but then, she had never indicated the change in color was a welcome one, either.
Don’t overthink it, he heard Sylvain telling him. Go with what feels natural.
Alright. He could do this.
“I was just thinking, Byleth...your hair has always reminded me of lamb’s ear,” Dimitri tried.
The seconds dragged by while he awaited a response. Dimitri glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, dreading one of the cold glares he’d seen levelled at both bandits and disrespectful students.
However, Byleth’s expression remained unchanged. “I’ve never heard of it. Is that something from Faerghus?”
He winced internally. “No, it is a plant that’s native to the Leicester Alliance. I brought it up because it’s pale green, and quite soft,” Dimitri explained. “Forgive me, with how much you have traveled, I thought you might be familiar with it.”
“I might. What you’re describing sounds like woundwort,” Byleth said, tapping her chin. “You can use it as a makeshift bandage when supplies are short; my father used to have me leave camp to collect some whenever it was available. I’m not surprised it has a different name in the Kingdom. Now that I think of it, we might try teaching the soldiers about it in case of an emergency.”
“Right,” Dimitri said, fighting back a wave of disappointment.
Leave it to Byleth to turn his attempt at a compliment into a practical lesson. Maybe, for now, they could just be two friends on a walk. He could manage that without making a fool of himself.
After a few moments, Byleth asked, “So, what brings you out at this hour, anyway? Training late again?”
Dimitri shook his head. “I lost track of time catching up on paperwork; I swear, no matter how much I get done, sometimes the pile seems bigger than when I started. Ah, and then I was talking to Sylvain over dinner.”
She hummed. “Was it about the hand axe incident?”
“The...what?”
“From what Felix tells me, Sylvain almost got his head taken off in the marketplace the other day,” Byleth said, a hint of humor in her tone. “A merchant’s son was passing through and ran into him; apparently, he supposed the best way to get closure for his heartbreak was to throw an axe. It flew into a melon instead, but a little to the right and it would’ve hit the mark.”
Dimitri sighed, frowning. “No, we spoke of an entirely different occurrence, although it seems to share some similar themes,” he said. “It amazes me how little he’s managed to change over the years, at least in this regard. Sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever give it up.”
“I think he will, someday,” Byleth replied, running a hand along the stone of the entrance hall. “Although, in a way, it’s comforting that he hasn’t yet.”
“How do you figure?” Dimitri asked as they passed by the building’s double doors, closed for the night.
“You’ve all changed in your own ways. It would be impossible not to,” she said. “With everything that’s happened, I’m thankful for what remains the same. I’ve noticed that Mercedes still leaves her dinner unfinished so she can feed the scraps to the strays. And, whenever he’s deep in thought, Ashe fidgets with the same ghost-repelling amulet he carried around as a student.” Byleth smiled softly, and Dimitri had to remind himself not to stare. “I worried you might have become strangers to me, but everyone has only grown.”
They fell into silence as he considered her words. From Byleth’s perspective, Garreg Mach had fallen a mere few months ago. He knew the feeling of having everything you knew decimated in the span of a day, but to think that her first sight of a familiar face had been…
“You’re not exempt from that, Dimitri,” Byleth said, as if reading his thoughts.
As always, the sound of her voice quieted some of the remorse that’d risen in his heart. “I can hardly compare myself to the others, but thank you for saying so,” he replied. “And, if you’re so certain, I can’t help but be curious. What is it that I still do?”
When she didn’t answer right away, Dimitri glanced in her direction. With the entrance hall behind them, the two now approached the stables; for some reason, Byleth had her eyes fixed on the wall to their left. She’d started playing with the edge of her coat again. Dimitri was about to assure her that it was alright if nothing came to mind—like he’d said, he couldn’t compare to the others—but she spoke first.
“It’s your eyes,” Byleth finally said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You may be missing one now, but...you’ve started to light up again, every time you begin a conversation. Like you’re thrilled to be speaking to them; it’s something I’ve missed about you. And, often, when you’re talking to someone,” she turned to hold his gaze, “it’s almost like you’re trying to memorize their face.”
Thank the goddess it was nighttime, because Dimitri felt his face heat up again.
Several seconds passed. Then, a corner of her mouth quirked up, and Byleth looked away. “At least, that’s what I’ve noticed when you’re with me. But I have no doubt that you must be the same way with everyone else, too.”
“Yes...of course,” Dimitri replied automatically, feeling dazed.
He told himself not to jump to conclusions. That there was no reason to read into what Byleth had said, that too much wishful thinking could be catastrophic. One remark couldn’t mean that much.
Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help the way his heart beat a little faster.
“You know,” Dimitri began, aiming for a lighthearted tone, “there’s something the same about you, as well, Byleth.”
She huffed out a laugh. “I should think so, after being asleep for five years.”
“I was not referring to something unconscious,” he said. “Though, I suppose it may just be out of habit. But I see that you still wear the brooch we all got for you, back when you were first starting out as our professor. To be honest, I’m amazed that it has survived for this long.”
Seeming surprised, Byleth nodded. “I don’t wear it because it’s a habit,” she replied. “And, actually, I did almost lose it. The day Garreg Mach was attacked, I almost left it in my quarters. Had I done that, who knows where it would be now.” Pausing, Byleth glanced fondly at the item in question, pinned in its usual spot. “Somehow, this brooch has become one of the most precious things I own. It reminds me of you, and the rest of the Blue Lions.”
Dimitri smiled at that; to think, years ago, he’d worried over whether his new professor would appreciate a gift at all. He could still remember fighting to keep himself from grinning throughout the entire class period when she showed up wearing it the next day.
By now, they’d reached the stables, their boots scuffing through the dirt. The sight of the wooden structure always comforted Dimitri, especially now that horses and pegasuses alike had repopulated the monastery. As his eye drifted over the row of latched doors, he found his attention pulled towards Byleth again.
Their conversation appeared to have unearthed some old memories, judging by her far-off look. Witnessing her now, it seemed impossible that he had ever thought of Byleth as emotionless. A small, warm smile had spread across her face, and it had the same effect on Dimitri as coming inside to the fire on a frigid winter day. Time certainly hadn’t changed that.
During quiet moments like these, it struck him just how much he’d missed her during the past five years. Even after concluding that she’d been killed in battle, a small, semi-buried part of himself had never ceased to believe that the woman who carved her way out of thin air would find her way to him again. How often, when the screams in his head faded to murmurs, had he lifted his gaze to the heavens, wondering, hoping, praying that somehow, somewhere, she was seeing the same sky?
“Dimitri.”
The sound of Byleth’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Hm?”
“You were doing it again,” she said, watching him with a curious expression. “It looked like you were memorizing me.”
“Perhaps I was.”
Byleth’s eyes widened.
Dimitri pressed on. “My apologies for staring; it wasn’t my intention.” He turned away before adding, “I was...lost in thought about something.”
“Oh?”
He took a breath before answering, attempting to steel himself like he had so many times before. “After Duscur, I swore to myself that I would remember every person I had lost there,” he began. “Yet, as time has gone on, I have found myself forgetting more and more of their faces. I fear that, one day, they will have gone from my mind altogether. Now that we’re at war, I must face the risk of the same thing happening with the ones I fight alongside.”
An old, familiar ache throbbed in Dimitri’s chest as he spoke. In a quieter tone, he continued, “For a long time, I was terrified that I would forget you, Byleth. After the attack on the monastery, I fought to remember what I could, but...inevitably, there came a day when I could no longer recall the sound of your voice, or…” The way you smiled at me. He shook his head. “I suppose it all sounds rather foolish when I say it out loud, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all,” Byleth murmured. She remained silent as the two of them passed beneath the arched walkway that led to the knight’s hall, emerging on a long path lined with well-kept hedges and trees.
They’d hadn’t made it halfway when she opened her mouth to speak again, but then snapped it shut, brow furrowing. Dimitri noticed her hand clench into a fist. After a second, she said, “I should have been there.”
Dimitri frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Rhea told me to stay away from the front line during the attack. She wanted me closer to the monastery, presumably because it was safer,” Byleth admitted, her voice tense. “But when I saw the soldiers and the Demonic Beasts, I had to act; I barely stopped to think. It’s because of that decision that I lost the next five years. Maybe that was part of their plan all along.”
She paused, letting out a long breath. When she spoke again, she seemed calmer. “I often think about what might have been different if I had followed my orders. The war was unpreventable, but if I’d have been here, maybe I could have helped some of the students. Helped you . I’m sorry for vanishing, and leaving you—everyone—alone for so long.”
“Please, you owe no one an apology,” Dimitri said, feeling a pang in his heart. How long had Byleth been carrying this? “You’re here now. You have done so much for all of us, and continue to do more than most every day. Without you, Byleth, I would not be here now.” Looking up at the moon, he added, “Maybe it’s better that you were hidden away somewhere safe, rather than living in danger.”
“I wonder,” Byleth replied, eyes downcast.
Neither said anything as they continued walking. Around them, the leaves whispered in a slight breeze. The sense that Dimitri could not let their conversation end there grew with each step; somehow, this night had come to feel important. When his doubts manifested again, this time they drowned, flooded by the resounding need to make it clear to Byleth, beyond any uncertainty, just how much her comrades valued her. How much he cared for her.
Byleth’s pace slowed as the two of them emerged on the bridge to the cathedral. About halfway across, she stopped, turning to lean forward against the stone railing.
“I come here to clear my thoughts often,” she said. “It’s quiet, even during the day.”
Dimitri wordlessly came up beside her. In the near distance, the ridges of the mountainside stood out against the night sky, interrupted by clusters of trees that took on a silvery hue beneath the light of the moon. Familiar constellations hung overhead—if he searched, Dimitri could trace the tip of a hero’s sword to the wings of the wyvern that accompanied them into battle. It used to be his habit to pick out the same stars as a child, and it had always led to him begging to hear his favorite story told again.
“This may seem a bit out of nowhere, but have you ever heard the tale of Avery, the Crimson Flame?” Dimitri asked.
“I haven’t. Is it a fable?” Byleth said, giving him a questioning look.
“That depends on who you ask. Personally, I find it no more difficult to believe than what happened with Seiros and the Ten Elites,” Dimitri said. Over a decade later, he could still recall the feeling of being bundled up in his blankets at night, listening with wide eyes while his father regaled him with the story of the Crimson Flame.
No one had ever praised him for the gift of storytelling, but he resolved to do his best. “I have heard Avery depicted as different genders over the years, but the rest remains consistent. In the time before Nemesis, they were a knight who had lost their lord, and spent their days wandering without a purpose. Their only companion was a golden wyvern. When the War of Heroes broke out, Avery approached Saint Seiros and declared,” Dimitri put on his best character voice, “‘I am loyal to one lord alone, who is long gone from me. But I would be no knight if I stood by and watched such carnage; and so, I offer my services to you.’”
He didn’t miss the smirk Byleth tried to cover with her hand. “Sorry, I’m not very good at this,” he said, trying not to laugh, himself.
“No, you’re better than I would be,” she responded, eyes bright. “What happens next?”
“Well, during one of the battles against Nemesis’ forces, Avery’s commander perished. The faction supporting Seiros had been suffering heavy losses, and without a leader, many soldiers turned to flee.” Dimitri couldn’t keep the enthusiasm out of his tone when he came to his favorite part of the tale. “But that’s when Avery, outnumbered and with no other options, decided to take control. They flew over the troops atop their wyvern, shouting out orders, and soon the battle began to turn in their favor. According to the legend, the rising sun on Avery’s blade made it seem as though the steel had been engulfed in crimson flames. The spectacle alone filled the soldiers with courage again. In the end, they were victorious. Some say they were honored by Saint Indech himself.”
Byleth hummed, nodding slowly. “Quite a story, though I’m surprised to hear it from you. It sounds like something Ashe would have memorized.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Dimitri said, watching an owl glide above the trees. “My father used to tell it to me when I was a child. Of course, he was a far better storyteller than I am.”
“Why tell it to me?”
“Is it not obvious?” he asked as he turned towards her. “Byleth, you are our Avery. And I don’t say that just because of your skills in battle. You give people hope, and inspire us to continue fighting for a better future. Without your guidance, many of us would be lost...Myself, especially.”
A cool breeze wafted past, and Dimitri caught the way Byleth’s arms tightened around herself. He began removing his fur cloak as he continued, “I know I have spoken of my gratitude before, and in the end, they’re only words. You once told me that I did not have to face my pain and regrets alone; I wish you would allow me to ease your burden, as well. We’re on this path together, after all.” In one motion, he draped the cloak over Byleth’s shoulders. A moment too late, Dimitri realized why that may have been a mistake—the clothing practically engulfed her thanks to their difference in size, and the sight made his heart skip a beat.
She looked up, surprised. “Thank you.” As Byleth pulled the cloak tighter around herself, a soft smile spread across her face. “Your presence alone is more helpful to me than you realize, Dimitri. I don’t know how long the path we’re on will last, but...I’m glad to be walking it with you.”
“Of course, you must know I feel the same,” Dimitri said, feeling his heartbeat begin to quicken. The question that’d been lingering at the back of his mind all night resurfaced; now he could obtain his answer. And, if it confirmed his fears, perhaps he could change it. “Byleth, once this war is over, what is it you think you’ll do?”
Byleth sighed. “I haven’t given it much consideration. My thoughts are always focused on the next battle, or the ones that come after it,” she admitted. “I intend on helping to rebuild the monastery, however long that may take. Beyond that, who’s to say?” Giving him a sidelong glance, she added, “I would ask you the same, but I suppose your life is already planned out, isn’t it? When the war ends, you’ll be in charge of the Kingdom.”
Dimitri nodded. “Indeed. Although, I am still uncertain about a few things,” he said. “Actually, Sylvain and I were discussing this earlier; with how much is changing, there is no telling when any of us will see one another again. I suspect it won’t be as easy as promising to meet up in five years.”
“I doubt it,” Byleth agreed, her voice quiet. She tugged at the cloak around her shoulders, leaning her cheek against the fur lining. “To be honest, I’m not used to having so many options. As a mercenary, I never had to think about what I wanted for the future; I always just went where I was needed.”
The words were out before Dimitri knew he’d said them. “What if I were to say that I need you here?”
With one sentence, the air between them became heavier.
Byleth turned to face him. “What does that mean?” she asked in a deliberate tone. Despite how calm she sounded, however, Dimitri caught a spark of—something—that flickered across her face.
Here was his last chance to back out. Tell her, again, how treasured she was as both a friend and ally, and leave it there. Part of him still hissed that he didn’t deserve this, he would never deserve this, not after everything he’d done.
But, by the goddess, he had to say something. The sense of urgency that’d flooded him before returned again, crashing in all around him. Sylvain was right. Dimitri had already lost her once. He couldn’t risk it happening again.
Reaching out, Dimitri took one of Byleth’s hands in his own. When she didn’t pull away, it gave him the courage to speak. “Byleth...When I imagine the future, it is always brightest when I envision you there with me. I—I wish to remain by your side, long after this war is over. The thought of us parting ways...it pains me.” He took in a shaky breath. The chill in the air did nothing against the heat rising in his face. “Forgive me. I know my timing is far from ideal. But I need you to know this—I care far too deeply for you to stay silent any longer.”
He braced himself for her response. Several seconds ticked by, during which Byleth stared at him, wide-eyed, expression unreadable. Dimitri felt his face grow even hotter in her silence, the warmth spreading to his ears. With each passing moment, the feeble hope he’d been clinging to began to collapse in on itself, becoming an abyss in the center of his chest.
This was a mistake. Possibly the biggest mistake he had ever made. Dimitri didn’t need to hear the rejection to know it was coming. Of course Byleth wouldn’t feel the same—how could she? It had been foolishness to delude himself into thinking otherwise. Lowering his head, Dimitri loosened his grip on Byleth’s hand and began to turn away, his mind already at work formulating a hundred different apologies.
Except that Byleth didn’t let go. When he tried to pull back, she intertwined their fingers, squeezing Dimitri’s hand in her own. He lifted his gaze to her again and found himself suspended in place. Truly there was no other way to describe Byleth’s smile than mesmerizing, full of warmth and shining with a radiance that rivaled the full moon. For all Dimitri had said about attempting to remember every detail he could of those he cared for, no memory could compare to the look on Byleth’s face as she stood in front of him now.
“You caught me off-guard. I still don’t know...That is, my thoughts are...Sorry. I don’t have very much experience with this,” Byleth managed, ducking her head. The grip on Dimitri’s hand tightened, and it could have been a trick of the light, but was she blushing? Her smile faded somewhat as she continued, “I’ve spent a long time trying to make my peace with...with letting you go, someday. I told myself it was necessary, no matter how I may have felt about it, so hearing this…”
Dimitri’s heart ached. “You thought I would leave you behind?” he asked, stepping closer.
Byleth looked up at him like the answer should be obvious. “We all have our duties to return to after the war; yours happens to be the biggest of all. Once you’ve been crowned and have a kingdom to run, it makes sense that we would rarely see one another. I would have to go and find the next place I was needed, wherever that may be.” She paused. “Well, at least…”
“Yes?” he prompted her to continue.
“That’s what I would repeat to myself,” Byleth confessed. “I’ve never stayed in one place for long. Mercenary life requires that you get used to letting go of people and moving on, but...Dimitri, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold onto. You’ve always made me want to be better than I am, in ways I hadn’t even considered before.” She rubbed her thumb against his hand, hesitating as a small grin crept across her face again. “You know, I never used to smile so much before meeting you. It wasn’t long ago that I thought saying anything like this would be impossible for me, but…” Byleth’s voice grew quieter, and she edged forward. “You’ve become very precious to me, Dimitri. There’s no future I’d want more than one with you by my side.”
This time, it was Dimitri’s turn to stare in wide-eyed silence. It seemed like this should have been an illusion, another dream concocted by his subconscious that threatened to twist into a nightmare at any second, but Byleth’s hand in his own was warm and solid. They stood close enough now that the fur cloak around her shoulders brushed up against him.
The reality of the situation settled over Dimitri like fresh snowfall. “Oh,” was all he managed, forced past a half-strangled feeling in his throat.
Byleth released his hand and reached up to caress his face. Affection shone in her eyes, plain as the countless stars above them. “Is it that difficult to imagine?” she murmured.
At her touch, Dimitri felt himself relax. “A little, if I’m being honest,” he said.
“Can I do anything to help?”
Something did come to mind. “I may have one idea,” he told her, before he could talk himself out of it. Who knew when he would get another chance like this?
Any other thoughts faded into background noise as Dimitri leaned down, heartbeat pounding in his ears, eye already beginning to slip closed. He moved slowly, almost hesitating, a distant whisper still insisting that this was when everything came crashing down around him.
But then Byleth was drawing him in, tilting her head up so her lips pressed softly against his. And that was all it took—Dimitri wrapped an arm around her waist as he deepened the kiss, lost in the warmth that seemed to radiate from every inch of her. Byleth responded in kind, moving her hand to the back of his neck and parting her lips for him, and oh , goddess, how long he’d wanted this.
Too soon, they pulled away from each other, standing with their foreheads pressed together. Dimitri brushed a stray lock of Byleth’s hair back into place, tracing his fingertips along her jawline. As her eyes fluttered open, he took in every detail he could of this moment—her flushed face, the faint scent of rosemary from the soap she used, the way her mouth curled up when she looked at him.
They remained like that for a second, though as far as Dimitri was concerned, it could have been minutes. It wasn’t until Byleth gave a small yawn that he stood back a bit. Somehow, he found the sight endearing. Few could attest to seeing their great tactician as anything but awake and alert at all times.
“Sorry,” she said, looking sheepish.
“It has gotten rather late,” Dimitri replied. More than anything, he wished they could stay there until the sun rose. However, the thought of their duties the following day forced him to add, “It would probably be best if we were to head back.”
Byleth hummed in agreement, but made no move to leave. Instead, she turned her gaze out across the mountainside, resting her head against Dimitri’s chest. Seeming to pick up on his concerns, she said, “A little while longer won’t hurt.”
Dimitri didn’t need more convincing than that. With a contented sigh, he wrapped his arms around Byleth and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. The trees swayed in the wind, pale as lamb’s ear beneath the night sky. And when Dimitri looked up at the moon, he thought, for the first time since he could remember, that perhaps the future that awaited them shone just as brightly.