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Fhirdiad's magnificent gardens were laced with a delicate frost. In the soft light of the moon, the whole garden shone like a relief in silver. Byleth found herself amazed by both its beauty and its promise. The ground was fading from winter into springtime. Where thick layers of snow had previously hidden the grass, now only delicate frost remained. Her heart swelled at the sight. It was as if the land itself was awakening at the arrival of her true king.
How surreal these past few months had been! Only a few short months ago, Dimitri had wandered wraith-like through the monastery, hardly alive but not yet dead. His gentle heart buried beneath years of pain and suffering, almost choked like the little purple crocuses beneath the winter’s snow. His eyes alight only to blaze with the eternal flames he wished upon his enemies. Only a few months ago, their campaign pointed on a suicidal route southward, to Enbarr and certain death. And on bloody Gronder Field, everything changed.
Now, they had lost one of their dearest commanders, and Dimitri and Felix both lost a father. Yet now, Dimitri had turned his eyes northward. His actions remained awkward and stilted around his comrades, but his eyes shone now with the light of the living and of his own desires and hopes. And as his teacher and friend, Byleth could not be happier.
The ground crackled and snapped beneath her footfalls as she strode through the barren gardens, with only the distant light of the moon and stars to light her path. Byleth filled her lungs languidly with the cool night air, the gentle sharpness refreshing to her overstimulated senses. In the distance, she could still faintly make out the strings and chatter of the celebration, but from here she could breathe again. She had never felt comfortable in the press and pull of parties. Still, she was proud, and happy to tough out such cloying social niceties for the sake of her students, her troops, her friends. Fhirdiad belonged to Faerghus once again, but more importantly, Dimitri had chosen to take up the mantle of kingship.
Amid the quiet crackling of frosty grass beneath her feet, Byleth’s ears pricked up at the sound of another set of footfalls. She turned happily toward the familiar sound. She knew those steps; she’d heard them echoing many a time in the cathedral ruins, heavy but sure-footed.
“A bit early for a patrol, isn’t it, Professor?” Dimitri’s attempt at dry humor caused a subtle smile to bloom on Byleth’s face. He had forgone his typical armor and fur-lined cloak in favor of a handsome blue dress tunic with a lighter white, linen cape.
“I’ve told you before, Your Highness, I haven’t been your teacher for years,” her efforts to put venom into her words failed miserably, the smile in her words was impossible to mask. “Please just call me by name.”
The king winced at the title, “Point well made, but it’s a habit that’s difficult to break.”
Byleth allowed a wider smile to slip past her lips at Dimitri’s earnest reply. “You truly look like a king tonight, Dimitri. I’m proud of you.”
The king bloomed beneath the praise. “It’s all thanks to those who’ve supported me. You especially.” The young man fell effortlessly into step with the mercenary’s steady pace around the moonlit gardens.
“I only did what I should have done all along,” Byleth replied mildly as she looked up at the stars, tracing her eyes over the King’s Right Hand as it glimmered brightly.
“But you came back,” Dimitri replied simply, catching Byleth’s gaze. “It’s not like you meant to fall into that slumber.” Byleth grimaced, not liking the turn this conversation had taken. This particular wound remained raw for her. “You were there when I needed you most, even when I...even when I mistreated you horribly. I guess, what I’m attempting to say is, thank you, Byleth.”
Byleth still felt inadequacy gnawing at her insides, but she beat it down for now. Today was about reveling in the Blue Lions’ victories. There would be time to address her feelings later. She nodded her acceptance to Dimitri, and the two fell into a relaxed rhythm of walking through the empty gardens.
Byleth revelled in the relaxed silence broken only by their combined steps and the distant music. It felt comfortable in a way no words shared between them could feel. Byleth had never been the most gifted wordsmith, but the art of simply being with another she had learned long ago by her father’s side. She felt seen. And she felt like she was seeing Dimitri. They both had plumbed the depths of heartache together. Both had taken up the mantle of comforter. Both had caused the other deep pain. Today, both stood united in victory. And in a small, still corner of her mind, she imagined them both working toward healing the scars of war from all of Fódlan tomorrow.
Byleth’s bond with Dimitri defied any easy categorization. On one hand, she had mentored him, helped him to grow into the man he was this evening. On the other, they’d grown to an unspoken trust forged only through battle. Closer than just a friend, more intimate than a family member, yet Dimitri was both and neither at once. He was, beyond a doubt, someone she trusted with her very life, even in his deepest fits of madness. Of that, at least she was certain.
With a cough, the king broke the comfortable silence. “I take it the festivities were too much for you as well?” Dimitri’s voice trailed off. Byleth quirked an eyebrow in confusion. He seemed...nervous?
“Yes. I never was one for fancy galas,” Byleth admitted. “Didn’t learn much of that on the road growing up.”
“I recall you danced at the White Heron Cup. You helped teach Flayn how to waltz,” Dimitri leaped on the conversation thread eagerly. Almost too eagerly. Byleth’s early familiarity with her companion felt less firm.
“Yes, but I had Manuela tutor me in waltzing for two whole evenings leading up to that,” Byleth commented dryly.
“Truly? I’m rather impressed you were able to master it so quickly.” Dimitri’s brows softened as he reminisced. “You danced rather well when the whole school took turns dancing with you.”
“It was only 12 students, and that was more than enough for a novice like me!” Byleth felt her face warming at the memory of that day. She’d been so overwhelmed by the outpouring of dance requests, both from her own house and others, that she needed to retreat just like tonight.
“I only regret I couldn’t ask you to dance that day,” Dimitri admitted. In a boyish display of bashfulness, he scratched the crown of his head where his long hair had been gathered back. Byleth almost laughed at how out of place the gesture looked on the tall, imposing man he’d become, but it reminded her of the young prince who always trailed behind her like a puppy. “I kept getting interrupted before I could cut in and ask for your hand. By the time I finally extricated myself, you’d left.”
“Well, we did have a nice discussion in the Goddess Tower afterwards, so it all evened out,” Byleth sighed gently at the memory, one of the last peaceful ones they shared before Remire.
“Perhaps.” The prince sighed deeply, as though steeling himself for something. “Though I must admit, it’s a regret I still carry to this day.”
His steps stopped. On instinct, Byleth turned to face him. In the moonlight, Dimitri’s lone eye shone with a fierce light she hadn’t seen outside of battle. With an outstretched hand--and an expression that looked equally eager and uneasy--Dimitri bowed to his trusted companion. “If you would indulge me, I would like to set that regret to rest.”
Byleth felt a swell of tenderness in her chest for the man she trusted with all her heart. With a nod, she took his hand--ungloved for once--and allowed him to lead her to a nearby stone gazebo, covered in withered rose vines. The music echoed just quietly enough to guide their steps. In spite of Byleth’s lack of practice and Dimitri’s shyness, the two fell into step easily.
Just as they had walked comfortably in silence, the dance spoke more than words ever could. Their movements flowed gently from one to the other, each step at once a reaction and a signal between the two. Each movement spoke of a trust that where one would lead, the other would follow. Dimitri’s firm hand nestled in the small of her back, and her own weapon-worn hand rested comfortably on his shoulder. The embrace echoed both a sense of safety and intimacy, a quiet reassurance that the two could rely on one another. The rhythm of Byleth’s pulse thrummed with an energy that was not foreign but not unpleasant. Still, she decided she liked it. Perhaps, dancing with Dimitri was something special.
Acting on some instinct she could not place, she broke the rigid form of the dance and lay her head on her companion’s chest. Dimitri stiffened slightly, his easy footwork stalling into a gentle swaying from foot to foot. Byleth could feel his heart thundering beneath her head. She pulled back a little to look at her dance partner. The look on his face--pink as the roses that once inhabited the garden--was one of gentle shock, yet his eye held a quiet hope within them. After a few moments, Byleth felt the brush of Dimitri’s cheek against her hair. His motion was tentative, but there was something so tender to the gesture that it set Byleth’s stomach fluttering. Silently, Byleth returned her head to his chest and swayed in his embrace, the music of the party long forgotten. They danced now to some silent but inexorable rhythm only the two of them could hear.
In that moment of quiet intimacy, words Jeralt had spoken to her so long ago came unbidden to her mind. Her mother’s ring. Someone she loved as much as her father loved her mother. Byleth found herself ruminating over the thrumming in her chest, the deep trust and comfort that settled in her spirit as she cradled her head against Dimitri’s heart. A small voice she felt from the very core of her being whispered with a strength that rocked Byleth to her bones.
Was it her own mind, or some last remnant of Sothis? Byleth could not say for sure. But the message was loud and clear: She was in love with the king of Faerghus, with Dimitri. The realization felt so overwhelming, Byleth dared not approach it with further thought. This moment was too precious. She wanted to savor this dance under the light of the stars, to engrave the memory onto her heart.
Perhaps the dance had lasted a few minutes, perhaps it had lasted a few hours. But eventually the silent melody the general and the king danced to came to an end. As Dimitri lifted his head from Byleth’s, the air felt cold and hot at once on her skin. Dimitri’s one blue eye, half-lidded and hazy with the same spell she felt fluttering in her stomach, met hers with a gaze both soft and intense.
Suddenly nervous, Byleth found herself trying to break the silence this time. “Well, that was lovely, Dimitri.” Propriety told her she should step back. Some force held her in place, just a hand width away from his chest. “Thank you.”
Dimitri, gently smiling, took Byleth’s hand and raised it to his lips. “The pleasure was all mine, Byleth.” The kiss he placed to her knuckles was soft, far softer than she imagined his lips would feel. And far warmer. In fact, her whole body seemed to be warming, all the way up to her ears. While his lips lingered perhaps longer than was strictly courteous, Byleth still felt their absence acutely when Dimitri removed them from her hand.
They stood transfixed for a moment, gazes locked and barely breathing. Both afraid to break whatever magic bound them. Swallowing thickly, Dimitri began to lower his hand, loosening his grip on Byleth’s. Her hand tightened in response, almost unbidden. The king’s eye grew wide as he glanced from his general, to his hand in hers, and back. “Byleth…”
Her hand squeezed his. She could feel the calluses on his palms as they grew slick with sweat, (hers or his she couldn’t say). These hands she trusted so profoundly it almost frightened her. This man she cared for so much it ached to think of him stepping away from her. “Just a moment more,” she begged, her voice weak.
He did not draw away. His expression fell into a courteous mask, but she could read his subtle tells. A quiet flutter to his brows, a tightness to his jaw, a deep flush across his cheeks betrayed him. Dimitri, who had faced a hundred men on his own unflinchingly, who broke weapons on accident near weekly, who wrestled with wolves and won, trembled in her hand--just as unsure as she.
Some force drew her closer, as strong as an ocean riptide, as beautiful as the starlight in Dimitri’s azure eye, as certain as the flowers emerging beneath the frost. Rising to the tips of her toes, she closed her eyes. His lips felt even softer against her own. They were still at first as she brushed against them, but just like the dance, where one partner led, the other followed. As Dimitri followed her gentle lead, Byleth’s heart soared. The two shyly kissed, their steps unsure but trusting their partner’s movements, indulging in tender vulnerability. The night air, their held hands, their lips were all so warm.
By some unspoken signal, the two drew apart. Byleth and Dimitri sighed, a cloud of their breaths blooming between them. Dimitri’s eye, half-lidded and unfocused, met Byleth’s gaze. Byleth couldn’t think, her mind foggy and slow from the warmth between them. All that slipped from her lips was a whispered, “thank you.”
Dimitri’s gaze slowly began to focus as his mind reawakened from its temporary stupor. His eye seemed to drink her in, as if seeing her for the first time. Deep blue like the night sky. All the trembling and uncertainty Byleth had seen before had stilled. A sense of reverence and wonder replaced the king’s previous diffidence.
Extending his hand, Dimitri placed it softly against Byleth’s cheek. Something swelled inside her, consolidating the sparks all in her blood into one concentrated ember beneath her sternum. “Byleth,” he murmured prayerfully, “do you truly…?”
Byleth locked eyes with the man who held her heart and nodded. Words felt inadequate here, too profane for what surged inside her, still so foreign and heady. Her vision grew blurred as her emotions overflowed.
A breathy gasp, halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped the king’s lips. He smiled tight-lipped, trying to hold back the tears now pooling at the edges of his eye. Pulling Byleth back to his heart, Dimitri embraced her, still gentle for him but tighter than he’d held her before. She could feel his shoulder’s gentle shudder as he tried vainly to keep his emotions reined in. “How long?”, his voice cracked and wavered.
Byleth grasped at his cape as she mustered what words she could. “Since the Tower.”
A few more sniffles, and Byleth could feel Dimitri press a small kiss to the crown of her head. “For me, it was when I first saw you smile. After we rescued Flayn.”
“All this time?” Byleth turned her head upwards.
“Of course.” Small rivulettes ran down Dimitri’s smiling cheeks. Byleth reached up her hand to brush them away, realizing she somehow always knew his fondness for her ran deeper than camaraderie.
The tolling of the local church bells rang sonorously in the distance. One hour before midnight.
“Loathe as I am to leave, I fear the dignitaries might start searching for us soon,” Dimitri sighed, slipping slowly into his normal volume and out of the shared embrace.
Byleth sighed, “I guess we can’t hide forever.”
“Perhaps, but I must say that this might be my favorite spoil of the war.” Dimitri’s smile made his eye crinkle playfully. Byleth decided that she’d like to see that expression more often, especially if she was the source.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Byleth assented. There remained a great deal still unexplored between them, but the spell woven by the moon and stars had its limits. Now, there was a war to return to, and all of the tedium that came with it. At least this tedium would be short-lived before the normal drone of weapons and logistics overpowered ballgowns and court intrigue.
“Very well. A king’s duty is far heavier than a single lance, but I think I owe it to my people to take it back up.” Turning towards Byleth, Dimitri offered his arm to her. “If I may?”
Byleth assented with a nod. Winding her hand through his arm, Byleth enjoyed this chance to walk arm-in-arm with her most trusted friend. Later, they could address what happened between them. For now, there was still a war to fight and politics to wrangle. But for just a while longer, they could enjoy a few more minutes together in the cool evening air, the memory of their kiss still tingling on their lips.