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These days it was rare for Dimitri to feel out of his depth. Since the war he'd become acclimated to life as King – the further away from that time they got the more things calmed down, and he'd long since settled into his comparatively mundane duties. With age and the support of his friends, his family, had come a sense of capability, competency, coolness that he certainly hadn’t had in his youth. Most days he was… calm.
Standing in front of the door to the Archbishop quarters in the heart of Garreg Mach, Dimitri already knew: Today was not one of those days.
The invitation had arrived a few days prior. When Dedue entered Dimitri’s private study, letter in hand, he could tell that there was something special about it instantly. Dedue rarely emoted when performing his duties, as stoic of an advisor as ever; and yet, the smile on his face was unmistakable as he laid the letter in front of Dimitri, saying, “Apologies for the interruption, but I didn’t think this should wait.”
Dimitri understood the moment he saw the monastery’s seal. His heart had skipped a beat then, and a buzzing sort of giddiness had settled in his chest, like a schoolboy with his first crush.
When he opened it, having to be so gentle so as not to rip the envelope with his trembling, clumsy hands, he was met with the scratch letters he knew all too well. A smile tugged at Dimitri’s lips - woe to any poor official who had the unfortunate job of trying to decipher the Archbishop’s handwriting.
Child’s play, for Dimitri. He knew Byleth’s hand like his first language.
The letter itself was brief - Byleth wasn’t one to drag a correspondance out longer than necessary (though Dimitri often wished he were, if only to have more of Byleth’s words to read). Just a quick summation of what he’d been doing since the last time he’d written - nothing more exciting than the mundane bureaucracy that had become the focal point of their lives (of which Dimitri still was unsure if it was better or worse than their previous “high stakes” way of life) - and an expression of how long it had been since they’d last seen each other.
The phrase, “ I’ve missed you ”, jumped out at Dimitri, and he felt his heart squeeze.
Following that, a suggestion:
The kingdom won’t fall apart without you for a few days. Come visit the monastery. I want to see you .
I’ll wait for your response.
- Byleth
If he were a less controlled man, Dimitri would have screamed. Instead, he set the letter down, covering his mouth as he felt his face heat up and let out a shaking, muffled sigh. Then, he took a deep breath, composed himself, and turned back to Dedue.
“Is there anything important happening this week?” he asked, straining to keep his voice level even as a light-headed sort of glee was slowly creeping up to his chest.
Dedue merely smirked, and replied, “Yes, I believe the Archbishop requested your presence this week. I can’t think of anything more important than that - can you?”
Not for the first (or last) time in his life, Dimitri found himself immeasurably grateful for Dedue.
“... Well then,” Dimitri said, his face only growing hotter as he grabbed an inkwell, quill, and piece of stationery and began to write. “It appears we have a trip to plan for.”
“I’ll have everything prepared by morning.”
Dedue was, as so often was the case, true to his word. He arranged everything that night, and Dimitri left the following morning, arriving at the monastery in no time at all.
Post-reconstruction efforts, you could barely tell it had been a battlefield less than half a decade ago. Students milled idly about the courtyards in the afternoon sun, the hustle and bustle of the market was in full boom, the strays still wandered the grounds begging for scraps and the occasional petting; this was once again the monastery Dimitri remembered, and he couldn't deny the pang of bittersweet nostalgia it brought him. The ghosts here weren't tormenting nightmares, just imprints of friends, teachers, classmates - long, long gone.
At the very least, there was one new thing at Garreg Mach.
Standing in front of the door that led to what Dimitri still had trouble thinking of as Archbishop Byleth's personal chambers, he could feel the buzz of anxiety in his stomach. It had been so long since they'd seen each other. The last time…
He thought of the dock, and shame flushed his cheeks. Maybe there was a reason it had taken this long for Byleth to invite him back. Maybe this hadn't been as good of an idea as he'd been hoping.
Before he could turn tail and run all the way back to Fhirdiad, however, the door in front of him opened and now standing before him was Byleth, for once not wearing his Archbishop garb and instead dressed in something similar to his old mercenary armor. His old, worn coat was draped around his shoulders, the Sword of the Creator strapped to his back under it. He stopped abruptly, nearly colliding directly into Dimitri but managing to halt in his tracks.
He stared at Dimitri, seemingly unable to process what he was seeing; then, a beaming smile crossed his face, and he said in a warm, affectionate voice, "You're here."
Dimitri nearly dropped to his knees.
"I… yes, I'm… here."
His tongue felt foreign in his mouth as he stumbled over his words. The silence that followed stretched between them, long and awkward. Yet, Dimitri could still feel that underlying natural ease Byleth radiated, only serving to remind him how much Dimitri had missed being in his presence.
For his part, Byleth didn’t seem to mind Dimitri’s inability to hold a conversation. After a few more beats, he gestured beyond Dimitri and said, “We have plenty to talk about. I was just about to take a walk through the grounds; join me.”
Dimitri needed no other invitation. He nodded and, feeling some deeply bound sense of propriety within him, gave a short bow and replied, “Of course, Archbishop. It would be my honor.”
For a moment, a conflicted look came over Byleth, which was quickly replaced with his usual placid stare.
“I prefer ‘Professor’ over ‘Archbishop’,” Byleth commented, brushing past Dimitri and gesturing for him to follow. “Although, Byleth would also be preferable.”
He glanced over his shoulder and shot Dimitri a smile that could kill; a flush colored Dimitri’s cheeks, and he had to glance away as he said in return, “... Whatever you prefer… Professor.”
Dimitri couldn’t tell if the flash of disappointment on Byleth’s face was his imagination or not.
They made their way back down to the ground floor of the monastery, making small talk about Dimitri’s arrival, what they’d both been up to recently, how life in the monastery and Fhirdiad had been treating them. Simple, shallow conversation, only made palatable because he was having it with Byleth . Nothing could be too awful to engage with so long as he was at this man’s side, that much he’d learned.
The sun was beginning to set when they found their way outside to the courtyard. Less students were still wandering the grounds, and the few stragglers that remained seemed about to leave at any moment. Some of them seemed to perk up as they noticed Byleth - only to look taken aback as they saw Dimitri beside him.
Dimitri couldn’t tell whether their surprise was positive or not, but it made him self-conscious nonetheless. Byleth seemed to pay no attention, however, continuing their idle chatter as they walked past the courtyard.
“Professor!”
That, however, caught his and Dimitri’s attention.
Halting, they both turned to see a small group of students dressed in their evening uniforms trying to catch Byleth’s attention. They were more than a few paces away, and at least one of them was casting him strange, almost worried looks, and not for the first time Dimitri’s paranoia tried wriggling back through his brain:
Maybe they knew who he was.
What he was.
What he’d done .
Suddenly, Dimitri could have done with a long, scalding bath.
Byleth, however, just smiled and told Dimitri he’d only be a moment, before drifting over to the students. That alone was enough to quell some of Dimitri’s reflexive panic. He fixed his gaze on Byleth, allowing himself to take him in, something he hadn’t been able to do for a long time.
He looked well - of course he did, he was the Archbishop . Tall and lean as ever, but healthy. The pale green of his hair almost glowed in the fading light of the sun, longer now than it had been, the ends curling delicately just above his shoulders. His skin was still porcelain pale, untouched by scar or blemish, at least above the collar.
Pretty. Pure.
Fragile.
Of course, Dimitri knew that Byleth was the farthest thing from a dainty teacup, but that knowledge did nothing to crush his fears. Dimitri was strong, after all, and some days... some days, breaking things felt like the only talent he had.
Dimitri’s stomach flipped, and he dropped his gaze to the ground.
A few moments more passed before the students dispersed and Byleth came back to Dimitri’s side. “Sorry for that.”
Dimitri managed to swallow his anxiety enough to grin and ask, “You… you’re still teaching?”
“Only occasionally. Not as much as I’d like. Seteth doesn’t approve, so I have to work around my duties. I have gotten most of the students to start calling me ‘Professor’ again, though. Which Seteth also doesn’t approve of.”
“Almost a shame,” Dimitri said with a smirk. “I rather like the sound of ‘Lord Byleth’.”
Byleth chuckled. “I’m not trying to emulate Rhea.”
Dimitri couldn’t help the small laugh he let out, and Byleth smiled.
They made their way passed the dormitories, night having already overtaken dusk. The moonlight from above had a similar effect as the sunset, giving Byleth an almost ethereal glow. A thought struck Dimitri, something he’s definitely thought before, though he tried to never dwell on it:
Byleth is mesmerizing.
… And for the first time since they’d left Byleth’s chambers, Dimitri realized where they were going.
A buzzing anxiousness crept through him, settling in his chest like bees as he saw the pond come into view. The greenhouse had already been locked up, by the looks of it, and otherwise the area was deserted. Just him, Byleth, and the dock where Dimitri had already ruined things once
Honestly, he should have expected this.
The small talk withered as a tension entered the air; still, Byleth kept on like he was fulfilling a mission, Dimitri forcing himself to trot faithfully at his heels. When they reached the pond, Dimitri faltered. Even still, Byleth kept on, and it was only when he stepped onto the dock that he seemed to realize Dimitri wasn’t following anymore. He hesitated, and then turned sideways to Dimitri.
Even in the dimness of the moonlight, Dimitri could see the wordless pleading on Byleth’s face, and what else could he do but follow him?
Byleth let out a sigh - of relief? Exasperation? - as Dimitri trailed after him again, and he walked to the end of the dock. He sat down, cross-legged, hands folded in his lap, head slightly bowed. Waiting.
Dimitri hesitated. For the briefest of moments, Dimitri considered just calling this entire trip a mistake and bolting; but, he’d already done that once, and the only thing it had done was give him a couple terrible, lonely years.
He dropped down beside Byleth, the space between them suddenly feeling as vast as the expanse of Fódlan itself.
For a while, the only sound between them was that of the waterfall, filling the otherwise insufferably awkward silence. Dimitri stared at Byleth, willing him to say anything, do anything; Byleth just stared at the pond, still as a statue.
Then, he closed his eyes and sighed again before saying, “I haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”
A pause. When Dimitri didn’t say anything in return, Byleth leveled him with a look he couldn’t call anything but heartbreak.
“Have... you?”
Dimitri’s heart leapt to his throat.
Two years. It had been two years since that night. Almost a full year post-war. He and Byleth had sat on this dock then, indulging in some wine, reminiscing, basking in the hard-won peace of their present, for once not dwelling on what it had cost. Talking, laughing, just being together … it was the closest Dimitri had ever felt to Byleth in their entire relationship.
“... Seems a day can’t go by without remembering it,” Dimitri replied, his voice low, quiet, ashamed. The way Byleth winced did nothing to fill him with confidence.
“You… asked if you could kiss me.”
“I did.”
“And then we… We kissed.”
“We did.”
Hesitating, Byleth finally looked at Dimitri, his expression pained as he said, “And then you said it was a mistake. And you ran away. And you stopped contacting me for a year .”
Byleth’s voice broke a bit at the end - a foreign, pitiable sound that nearly knocked the wind out of Dimitri. His gaze snapped to the pond, unable to keep eye contact with Byleth any longer.
“... I did.”
The pause this time was tense, as if Byleth was waiting for Dimitri to say anything else, expecting him to explain himself, to comment further, anything . When he didn’t, Byleth’s brow furrowed in frustration.
“I just… want to know why. I thought... you… that we…” He trailed off, and Dimitri let out a heavy sigh.
“Professor-”
“Byleth.” That caught Dimitri off-guard, and he looked back to find Byleth staring at him, his eyes hard. “You called me Byleth then.”
The unspoken ‘ and I want you to call me that now ’ didn’t get past Dimitri. He grimaced.
“It was… a mistake. That night. All of it. I should have never-”
Byleth interrupted.
“You said that last time. I want to know why .”
A long, long, long silence passed, and finally Dimitri, a soft uncharacteristic meekness to his voice, responded, “You’re too good for… someone like me.”
Byleth balked. “... What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Dimitri said, “I don’t deserve to feel any way about you. I’ve done terrible, horrific things in the name of… my own ego, for my own skewed sense of justice , for my misguided revenge . My hands and my past are stained with blood I can never wash away.”
He looked to Byleth and raised a hand, reaching out as if to gently graze the side of Byleth’s face.
“You are… flawless. Light. You shone over me and banished the darkness I’d been hiding in; you made me feel as if that monster I was is not who I am -”
He swallowed hard, looking at Byleth regretfully.
“But that can’t erase what I’ve done; and what are we, truly, except the sum of our deeds?”
His hand trembled, and he clenched it into a fist, drawing it away.
“Whether I… whether I love you or not,” Dimitri said quietly, “is irrelevant. That night was a mistake because the damned should not be rewarded . My sins are countless, and trying to drag someone as immaculate as you into the depths with me is just the latest.”
At his side, Byleth was speechless. He stared at Dimitri with an incomprehensible expression on his face, as if he wanted to say something but his mouth had been glued shut.
For Dimitri, that was proof enough - not even his savior could testify to his redemption.
Taking a deep breath, Dimitri stood. “I… will be going to my quarters for the night, and I think it would be best if I… departed, in the morning.”
“Wait-” Byleth began, starting to get up as well.
Dimitri cut him off with a sharp, “I’m sorry,” before taking off in the direction of his temporary room, fighting off all of the guilt and self-loathing that was threatening to swallow him whole.
“Dimitri-!”
The desperation in Byleth’s voice behind him was tangible and so, so familiar; yet again, Dimitri was leaving him alone, abandoned on that dock, confused and heartbroken.
As said.
Dimitri was good at breaking things.
When morning came, Dimitri found himself not alone, as he’d expected.
No, when he awoke, he found himself face to face with a bright-eyed, chipper-looking Flayn, who was busying herself with tapping him gently on the cheek and practically singing, “ Dimiiitriiii~ ”.
“Hhh… Flayn?” he grumbled groggily, rubbing his eye as if she’d magically vanish the moment his vision cleared.
Flayn squeaked delightedly and jumped upright, clapping her hands together. “Oh, wonderful! I was beginning to fear you’d never wake up!”
Glancing over to where the door to his room was wide open, Dimitri could see that it looked barely passed dawn. He groaned and sunk his head back into his pillow.
“Is there a reason for this?” he asked, already half drifting back to sleep.
“Oh, yes, of course! You see, the Professor asked me-”
And Dimitri was wide awake.
“B- The Archbishop?”
At that, Flayn shot him a childish look of disapproval. “Now, you know as well as I do that he prefers being called the Professor, especially from you.”
Dimitri sighed. “The… Professor, asked you to wake me up?”
“Oh!” Flayn said, looking as if she’d genuinely forgotten her reason for being here for a moment. “Right! He told me that if you weren’t awake by dawn that I was to wake you up and tell you to go to the cemetery- Oh, and that you shouldn’t even consider slipping away before then; Father was given strict orders to not let you leave the monastery until the Professor says so.”
Once finished reciting her orders, Flayn’s eyebrows knitted together in concern, and she clasped her hands together. “You weren’t really planning on leaving today, were you? You’ve just arrived! And haven’t even said hello!”
Despite himself, and despite his trepidation at hearing that Byleth wanted to see him now - especially after the previous night - Dimitri let out a soft chuckle at her affront.
“Hello, Flayn,” he said, and she beamed at him.
“Hello, Dimitri,” she returned. “Now, hurry! The Professor was very insistent on seeing him as soon as possible.”
She flitted over to the doorway, grabbing the handle and calling back, “And! You had better not leave without saying goodbye!”, before shutting the door behind her.
The smile on Dimitri’s face at her exit lasted for just a moment more, before her message finally sunk in.
Byleth wanted to speak to him. Again.
He wasn’t sure he was prepared for that.
“Seems as if he’s not giving me any options, though,” he mumbled to himself, and groaned, pressing his face into his hands. Then, he pushed himself up, throwing back his blanket.
Well. Might as well get it over with. This wound had been left to fester long enough.
The walk from his quarters to the cemetery was quiet. Few souls were wandering the grounds at this time - a perfect daylight mirror of last night. Just as well; Dimitri had always found Garreg Mach at its most beautiful when everything was still.
Approaching the cemetery, likewise, was not as nerve-wracking as he’d have expected, even as he could just see a flash of mint green hair off in the distance. Likely he’d run through all of his nerves the night prior; all that was left was pure calm, not unlike the calm he’d often felt post-battle, when the destructive impulse in him had been sufficiently quenched.
He slowed his already meandering pace as he reached the top of the stairs leading down to the small cemetery, now exhibiting more than a few relatively new markers. Crouched in front of what Dimitri immediately recognized as Jeralt’s grave was Byleth, fiddling with something by the looks of it. Dimitri momentarily pondered if he could somehow convince Seteth to just let him go without having to run through this tragedy one more time.
He decided against trying immediately. Not only was Seteth beholden to Byleth and Flayn and no one else, but a sobering night’s sleep had made him realize he owed hearing Byleth out. It was the bare minimum he could do; and, he had to admit, the idea of just leaving their relationship like… this…
The squeezing in his chest, told him all he needed to know.
“Professor,” he called, placing his hand on the banister of the stairs but hesitating to go down.
Byleth visibly tensed, but he relaxed just as quick. He glanced over his shoulder before slowly getting to his feet and turning.
“You’re… here,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Dimitri swallowed hard. “... I’m here.” He forced a laugh. “Not that you gave me a choice, according to Flayn.”
Byleth didn’t laugh. He turned back to the graves, gesturing for Dimitri to come down. To his credit, despite his apprehension, Dimitri barely missed a beat as he tramped down the staircase and fell into place at Byleth’s side.
Now that he was up close, Dimitri could see that Byleth wasn’t nearly as put together as he’d initially appeared. His hair was disheveled, his face smudged with dirt and tiny scratches. The dark circles under his eyes certainly hadn’t been there the previous night, and a rush of concern surged through Dimitri as he asked, “Are you alright? Did you even sleep last night?”
“I had other things to attend to,” Byleth said sharply. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking Dimitri dead in the eyes and saying, “I think you’ve misunderstood me.”
Looking genuinely confused, Dimitri asked, “I have?”
Byleth nodded. “Last night, the things you were saying… It sounds as if you’ve put me on this pedestal, as if you’ve this image of me as some pure, holy saint.”
His gaze turned to Jeralt’s grave, sadness shadowing his expression. ““Flawless”, “Immaculate”... My hands are just as bloodied as yours, Dimitri. If you’re a monster because of your past, then...”
He stared at Dimitri, considering him for a moment, and then finally fully faced him. Taking a step closer, he tentatively grabbed Dimitri by the wrist and rested the other man’s palm flat on the still of his chest.
“So am I.”
Ah.
There it was again.
The light.
For once, Dimitri had nothing to say in response. He was just… stunned. By Byleth. By himself. By the almost embarrassing realization that, for all of his anxiety and agony over his perceived “sullying” of this amazing man, one gentle touch was all it took for those shabbily made walls to come crashing down.
His other hand fell to Byleth’s hip naturally. At that, Byleth smirked, and with his free hand he held up the object he’d been fiddling with before.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked, looking Dimitri directly in the eyes.
It was a ring. A small, delicate silver band, the details lovingly carved into its shape, set with pretty little gems. That much Dimitri could see.
Something told him that wasn’t what Byleth was asking.
“I… don’t,” Dimitri said cautiously.
The smirk on Byleth’s face softened, and his tired eyes settled on the ring as it glinted in the sun. “This was the ring my father gave my mother,” he explained. “Jeralt left this to me. He said if I find someone I love as much as he loved her, that I should give this to them.”
Then, Byleth sighed.
“After you left. Dimitri, I… The way I feel about you, I have never felt for anyone else. For the longest time I wasn’t… I wasn’t even sure I had feelings.” The hand on Dimitri’s wrist tightened. “So, when you rejected me, I- I thought maybe there was something wrong with me, and what was even the point of having this if you weren’t the one I could give it to.
“That was when I realized it. Last night, too, even with you saying… ridiculous things, it just confirmed it.”
Byleth’s smile radiated nothing but pure affection as he finally said, “I love you, Dimitri. I’m in love with you.”
All at once, Dimitri felt light-headed.
Ah.
Byleth loved him.
Dimitri’s hand moved on its own, moving to gently cup the side of Byleth’s face. He looked from the ring to Byleth’s face, feeling as if several of his worlds were suddenly being turned upside down at once, all of it for the better.
Had it really been so… simple ?
“I love you,” Dimitri breathed, and it was simple. Byleth smiled giddily, leaning into Dimitri’s touch.
Dimitri’s face heated up as desire once again curled up through him, and he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Byleth, I… would very much like to kiss you right now.”
The stunned look on Byleth’s face was as familiar as it was fleeting; then, Byleth just looked at Dimitri intently.
“May I?”
A smile flit across Byleth’s face.
“... You may."
An almost disbelieving grin tugged at Dimitri’s lips, and he finally, finally bridged the gap between them, his free hand moving to the back of Byleth’s neck as he pulled him in.
Dimitri leaned down and kissed him, hard, one hand moving to the back of Byleth’s neck, the other wrapping around his waist, scooping him as close as possible. Byleth’s arms wrapped around Dimitri in turn, and for once the feeling in Dimitri’s chest wasn’t an anxious buzz or heavy pit - just a fluttering, so intense that he felt… lighter, for it.
When they parted, Byleth let out a laugh.
“I don’t think it’s quite your size,” Byleth said, holding up the ring again, “but… I want you to have this.”
Dimitri hesitated, and then gently plucked the ring out of Byleth’s hand, looking it over. “Are… are you sure?”
“Of course. It’s yours.” Byleth rested his head tiredly on Dimitri’s chest. “It’s always been yours.”
“Well, then,” Dimitri said, that light fluttering feeling as if it would encompass him. “It would be my honor, Byleth.”