Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

 Sunday

 Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd had faced many tribulations in his 23 years of life on Fodlan, but never any as unpredictably challenging as the one he encountered now. 

 “Oh, and we can put daisies here, with a splash of greenery. Don’t you think that’s nice? I think that’s nice.”

 Daisies vs. Lilies.

 Tulle vs. Silk.

 Royal blue vs. Baby Blue. 

 His back ached with the world resting upon his shoulders so heavily. He held the flower in his hand, and looked at the greenery the decorator waved in front of his face. The daisies were pretty, of course, but so were the lilies. And how could he possibly bring himself to care about what fabric covers the walls? Or what shade of blue the carpets were? 

 Flowers were flowers. Fabric was simply fabric. And blue was blue! 

 He blurted the first thing that came to mind, “Daisies.”

 “Good choice, your highness!” The royal decorator clasped her hands and took the flower from him, springing away to write the decision on parchment. Dimitri’s mood dropped further, and further, until it sunk down to the floor - and there it would remain. 

 Rufus looked just as uninterested in the surroundings of the wedding chapel as his nephew was, “Looks good…” he offered weakly.

 “Uncle,” the Prince sighed, barely able to stop himself before he dropped his polite sensibilities, “I’m glad you think so.”

 “Oh come on,” he patted his shoulder pityingly, “you hate it too.”

 He did. The floodgates opened, “I don’t understand why I’m even being involved in this. Shouldn’t the…” he tensed, forcing the word out as if it was sour on his tongue, “bride be the one making these decisions?”

 “The wedding is held here in Fhirdiad,” he explained slowly, gesturing around him, “she’s arriving this Sunday, the day of the wedding! She couldn’t possibly decorate through letter.”

 Unamused, Dimitri grunted, “I feel as if this is the first decision I’ve ever been involved in. And it’s simply having to choose between tulle and silks.”

 The decorator cleared her throat from nearby, looking up from her parchment with wide eyes, “And?”

 “Tulle, I guess.”

 “Thank you, your highness.”

 Rufus sent him a sardonic, bitter smile under the scraggly beard covering his face. “At least you’ll be King in a week. We’ll refer to you as ‘Your Majesty’ instead. Then, you can make all the decisions you want.”

 His reassurance did nothing for the Prince. Dimitri had never been one to lust for power, and it wasn’t as exciting to be crowned when one grew up being trained and reminded on the daily of said coronation awaiting him. 

 Dimitri ignored his uncle, instead sending a glance to the decorator to grab her attention. “You can choose whatever you like from here on, your taste is much better than mine anyway.” It was met with a titter and a battering of the eyes, followed by a shout to rip all of the tulle from it’s places and replace everything with silk.

 Rufus eyed him, “Are you retreating from the battle, commander?”

 “I’m afraid I am.”

 “Be back by sundown, then.”

 The Prince deigned to respond, only offering a tight smile as he walked down the chapel aisle and out of the large, wooden doors. The afternoon sun of Northern Faerghus provided no warmth, and the sky above was grey with the threat of storms. 

 Dedue stood to attention as Dimitri brushed past him. He was on his Prince’s heels in an instant, yet said nothing. There were certain times when Dimitri truly wished that Dedue spoke more, and other times when he appreciated the silent nature of the man. In this moment, he treasured the silence. 

 “I’m going for a ride,” he informed him as they neared the stable.

 Dedue nodded stoically, “Alone?”

 He sighed, “I believe that’s best, dear friend. I need some time to think.”

 Another slow nod, “Marriage is… very important. And a big change.”

 “Certainly. You and Mercedes make it look quite easy, though.”

 The lightest of pink blushes dusted his cheeks. Mercedes had just visited Dedue while he was working the other night, and Dimitri had found himself walking in on a very sweet kiss between the two. Dedue was the most embarrassed between the three of them, and the prince found himself ignoring what happened simply for the sake of his good friend’s heart. 

 Never once had Mercedes and Dedue been heard fighting, spitting words at one another, or being bitter. They both were so soft, and kind, and while relationships were not on Dimitri’s mind much, he admired their’s. If he was to pick any marriage to treat as an example, it would be the Molinaros. 

 “Thank you,” Dedue cleared his throat bashfully, “I wish you the best, your highness-”

 “Dimitri.”

 “...Dimitri, and I hope that you and Miss Eisner become… friends, at the very least.”

 He sighed deeply, hand resting on the door of the stable. As much affection as he had for his dear friend, another conversation about Lady Eisner was the very last thing he wanted to take part in. “I do too, my friend.”

 Always having been good at reading a room, Dedue let the topic drop with quiet politeness. He nodded, and stepped away, “If it would be okay, your high- Dimitri, may I…”

 “Yes, go see her.”

 Mercedes, he meant. She was helping decorate the chapel for the upcoming wedding. She had a moment free from her priestess duties, and would be able to entertain her husband as much as she wished, though he most likely would just be asked to help lift heavy decor instead. Dedue sent him a subtle, grateful look, and Dimitri watched his back as he retreated in the direction of the dreaded chapel that he had just escaped from. 

 Going for a ride was one of Dimitri’s few solaces while at the castle. He had only been back in Fhirdiad for two weeks, and his uncle had married him off within a few days of his return. Dimitri had been taking many rides since the news of his engagement. 

 The horses never expected anything from him, except maybe an apple or sweet grass. Dimitri stroked the mane of his largest, oldest mount as he fed her hay from his hand, “Just one more week, and I’ll meet her,” he murmured, “Lady Eisner. I suppose she’ll be lady Blaiddyd- er, Queen Blaiddyd.”

 The horse did not reply, as horses never did. Dimitri saddled her up and buckled her in, muttering to himself as he did so, “They say she’s reasonable, I suppose what more could a man ask for?”

 Love? Friendship? A normal courtship that involved actually meeting face to face and having a conversation? 

 Preposterous! He snorted to himself just thinking about it. As if his life could ever have anything normal and logical in it. 

 As he rode through the courtyard and out of the castle gates, into the field beyond, he thought of his conversation with his uncle  - of the many conversations/arguments he had with Rufus lately.

 “This is for Faerghus,” Rufus had informed so smartly, as if Dimitri didn’t already know that, “don’t be childish."

  “I’m childish for wanting to at least meet her? To go to Garreg Mach and introduce myself and see if we could even get along?”

 “Marriage is not about getting along, boy. It’s about… taxes! And the economy! If you do this, we might finally be able to feed our damn people. You want that, don’t you?”

 Dimitri wanted that more than anything. 

 It was odd to think of Lady Eisner being from Garreg Mach, as Dimitri had personally attended the school just five years prior, and had never once heard of her. Yet, then again, Dimitri could not even recall what her first name was. Perhaps he had met her before, and had simply forgotten. 

 Outside of Fhirdiad, the smaller farms and ranches struggled to put food on their table. He rode past their wilting crops, and avoided the eyes of the field workers as he clopped by. 

 His marriage would help them. Garreg Mach would send funds, and those funds would go to importing water and workers, and the importing of water would help the crops, and the workers would build greenhouses. Perhaps they could hire a few mages to cast fertility spells. Perhaps more tourists would visit, and perhaps more revenue would come, and perhaps Faerghus, for once since the death of King Lambert, would be okay. 

 Dimitri could only hope. 

 After an hour of riding, the settlements and farms turned into craggy cliffs and hidden valleys. Dimitri slowed his mount so that it would not trip over the rockiness of the roadway, and took a moment to enjoy the breeze brushing through his hair. 

 A mile ahead was a bigger village, the first one outside of Fhirdiad that wasn’t composed of only one or two houses. Usually it was where travelers would stay overnight on their way to the capitol. Dimitri had visited the village many times to check on a few acquaintances now and then, and nobody had ever proved to be a problem in the surrounding areas. 

 As of late, though, bandit activity had begun to rise. It always rose during summer - Faerghuns called it summer, but it truly was just winter with less snow and ice. The ruffians supposedly felt energized by the rare flashes of sun through the constant grey clouds, and would increase in their ruffian-activities. Dimitri was not surprised at all when approached by a panicked man approaching from his left.

 “Sir!” He yelled, out of breath as he ran to Dimitri’s horse. He stopped to rest his hands on his knees and pant as the prince pulled the reins to halt and look down at the restless commoner. 

 He was dirty, missing a few teeth, but dressed like a normal person nonetheless. He only carried a small dagger at his side, which was a necessity in Faerghus. Usually, Dimitri could spot a thug a mile away, and this tired, middle aged man looked entirely harmless.  

 “What is it?” He rested a hand on the shaft of his lance, “Are you okay?”

 “There’s two bandits that’re bothering my family!” He pointed to the East, beyond a cluster of boulders with evergreens growing up between them. Dimitri squinted, but could not see any movement behind the trees. 

 He hopped from his horse and led her by the reins to a nearby tree, making quick work of a knot as he tied her up. “Lead me.” 

 And so Dimitri was led. 

 Right into a very odd fight. 

 Frustrated at being dragged through the thickest part of the forest and mountainside, Dimitri pulled several leaves from his hair and tossed them to the ground with fervor. They drifted peacefully, not reflecting his inner emotions, nor matching the glare on his face as he looked at the commoner.

 “The bandits bothering your family are a girl… and an old man?” By ‘family’ he must’ve meant a group of well armed men dressed in leather armor. 

 The commoner grimaced at the glare, “They’re my family! And those two are dangerous, I’m telling ‘ya!”

 “I expected a group of ruffians,” he informed stiffly, “they’re the outnumbered ones here.”

 “They’ve got sharp swords!”

 Dimitri eyed the girl, who blankly cut down an attacker. Her sword caught the light and nearly blinded him, even when painted red with blood. It did look quite sharp. 

 Yet, the group that was supposedly being robbed had their own sharp swords. One man lifted an ax, swinging to bring it down upon the older man’s head. The man rolled to the side, and kicked his feet out from under him, making the ax man tumble onto his knees. 

 He supposed that there had been odder bandit teams. A young woman and an old man didn’t seem so odd a criminal pair. Perhaps they were lovers? Or a father and daughter crime duo? 

 Whatever they were, they fought well, much better than the poor commoners they attacked. Dimitri huffed in anger, gripping his lance, “You will not trample over the defenseless any longer!”

 The girl’s eyes flickered to him, delicate brows furrowing, “What?”

 “I won’t repeat myself,” he twisted his lance, “Leave these poor people alone!”

 “Poor people?” The older man scoffed as he blocked an ax attack once more, “We’re the poor people here!”

 “You criminals always think you’re the victims,” Dimitri spat, “leave these men alone.”

 With his command hanging in the air, several of the commoners stepped aside to allow him take off into a run at the girl. Her eyes widened, and she raised her sword to block his attack at the very last moment. 

 His crest glowed, her sword faltered and she stumbled away, managing to duck under his weapon before it could slit her throat. 

 “Wait!” She commanded as she blocked yet another jab. 

 The older man jumped into action, and it was two against one. The rest of the crowd had stepped away to watch the fight with jaunts and cheers for their golden savior. “I didn’t think they’d have such a beast fighting for them,” he grunted, taking a swipe with his own lance at Dimitri, yet failing to make contact. 

 “I fight for the people,” the prince answered, “You’ll terrorize them no longer.”

 Another cheer from the surrounding men, who were raising their weapons in glee. Dimitri dodged a kick, side stepped, and rolled before attacking the man. While distracted, the woman stepped back to even the odds, “Father, he keeps his left open.”

 “Righto.”

 She had been able to analyze him in only a minute of fighting? The wide owl eyes of the girl saw that much from only a few jabs and swipes? It was beginning to dawn on Dimitri that these two were not simple minded bandits. 

 “Why’re crazy people always the most dangerous?” The old man questioned as he and Dimitri went for each other’s throats, both never letting the other in, “It’s like their delusions give them extra strength.”

 “Crazy?” Dimitri barked a laugh, dodging once more, “Am I crazy for defending innocents?”

 Under his scruffy beard, the man’s mouth gaped open like a fish. He stepped away from the fight and held his lance in front of him defensively, “Innocents? Kid, are you daft?”

 “Are you? Stepping away and leaving yourself open like that?”

 “Look around you,” the girl gestured.

 Hesitantly, Dimitri looked. 

 The group of men were gone. 

 “They were the bandits,” she informed flatly, “we were defending the village. And you just let them get away.”

 He froze. 

 Dimitri had many moments in his life where he felt extremely, incredibly dumb. Most of them involved Felix, and many more of them involved Sylvain’s schemes. It was rare for Dimitri to bring such stupidity upon himself, as he was usually rather observant and took care to never involve himself in anything humiliating. 

 Yet, in this moment, he felt more dumb than ever. And he had caused it all by himself, no help from his friends needed. 

 He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. The fight was over, the weapons lowered and tension having dissolved away with the awkwardness, “Ah, yes. Now that you point it out, I did notice their excessive armor and weapons. Rather uncommon for villagers…”

 The older man obviously thought he was dumb as well, “Or their large bags of gold that they stole? The bags that several of them were carrying?”

 He did not notice those at all, but it made enough sense. “I suppose that’s why I was so surprised at you two,” he allowed himself a bashful chuckle, “thieves don’t usually fight so well. You both fight like nobility.”

 The woman seemed uninterested once the topic of nobility was brought up. The man only huffed a short laugh and shook his head, “We can hold our own, I guess.”

 He guessed. They certainly could hold their own! The woman had barely been knocked back by his crest, when he was using an amount of strength that would usually send grown men onto their bottoms. 

 He observed the woman. Her hair was dark, pulled into two braided pigtails on the sides of her face. Her nose was like a button, and her eyes rather large and fetching as she observed him in return. 

 Very fetching indeed. He had never seen eyes so thickly lined by lashes, so nicely placed onto a face. He hoped that wasn’t an odd thing to think about someone, that their eyes were placed nicely onto their face.

 He nearly snorted at himself. ‘Oh, yes, hello, your eyes are placed so wonderfully upon your face, how did they get that way?’ Charming. 

 The older man was busy wiping the blood off his own lance when Dimitri turned his attention onto him. He was scruffy, tall and wide. He eyed his weapon with a growing smile, “That’s a wonderful lance.”

 He looked down at it, “She’s okay. She’s gotten me through a lot of tough times,” he extended a hand, “Jeralt, and my daughter Byleth. We’re travelers.”

 “How wonderful,” and he truly meant it. To be travelers that fought so well, with such nice weapons and such nice forms, it almost seemed a reality that he might possibly achieve. “Where’ve you traveled?”

 Byleth answered now, her voice soft, “Everywhere. We just spent a summer in Duscur.”

 “Ah,” he tasted the words on his tongue, “Duscur. How do you feel about… Well, I suppose that’s too deep a question to be asking within five minutes of knowing each other.”

 “And right after trying to kill us,” she put a hand over her mouth as if covering a smile, “how charming. To answer, though, we like Duscur and it’s people.”

 Byleth and Jeralt eyed him as if to challenge him to argue. Dimitri, though, was overjoyed, “It’s good to see someone that does. I truly believe they’re innocent. In fact, I spent some time there myself recently.”

 Jeralt seemed relieved, “Oh, you’re a traveler too?”

 “I wish,” he shifted in place, burying his hands into the pockets of his heavy wool jacket and feeling like an embarrassed child, “I’m afraid my traveling days are over, I’m stuck here in the capitol now.”

 Byleth lit up. It was a dim light, like a fire on a match, but a light nonetheless. “Have you ever gone to Sreng?”

 To aid Sylvain in quelling a rebellion, yes. “I have. It’s beautiful, but inhospitable.”

 “What about Brigid?”

 “I’m afraid not.” He’d always wanted to though, yet he was afraid the hot weather would make it unbearable anyway. 

 “If you ever travel again, you should go,” she covered her mouth again, and he wondered if she was smiling under that small, pale hand, “It’s wonderful.”

 “I’ll have to visit one day.” His heart had grown excited at the talk of traveling, and he rolled on the balls of his feet, “I’ve been traveling for the past five years or so, never as far as Brigid, but I enjoyed it greatly.”

 He had been traveling as the commander of a small army that took care of rebellions and made alliances. It was not a vacation, yet he preferred it over the arranged marriage that awaited him. 

 Jeralt cleared his throat, “You haven’t told us your name, kid.”

 His name. His name. Jeralt was right, he hadn’t told them his name. 

 Father and daughter waited with curious eyes.

 If they had not come to the conclusion that he was the Prince just yet, he would certainly not be the one to lead them there. To these two, he was just a traveler, now detained to Fhirdiad for unknown reasons. And he had worn his dirty riding clothes, and nothing to signify him as royalty of any kind.

 Lambert had always taught Dimitri to never lie. He would betray his father’s commands for just the tiniest, littlest, white lie. 

 “Dima,” his voice sounded confident, yet he rocked on his feet anxiously, “That’s my name. Dima.”

 “Dima? Is that a nickname?” Jeralt raised a brow. 

 “It was. My grandfather’s nickname was Dima,” how lying came so easily to him, he had no idea, “so my ma and da named me that. Not his real name, though, they didn’t like the sound of it.”

 “Dima,” Byleth repeated, awkward in her own special way as she tensed her shoulders and lowered her head just in the slightest, “Well, we’re going to be in the nearby village until next Sunday. You should come by and see us again.”

 Jeralt shot her a warning look that she promptly ignored. 

 Dimitri ignored it as well. His excitement at the web of dishonesty that he had begun to weave was paramount to any nervousness that he felt. He sent her a reassuring smile, “Where’re you staying?”

 “We,” Jeralt wrapped an arm over her shoulder, “are staying at the only inn there. I bet you can find us pretty easily. Maybe you can help us take care of the rest of that bandit group.”

 “I would love to,” he lit up, “I mean, not that fighting is something I love. But I’m happy to help.”

 “Great,” he clapped his shoulder a little too hard, making it sting under his touch, “Meet me in town tomorrow morning at 10 a.m., if you can, kid. Bring some healing stuff, and try not to get tricked into another fight on your way there.”

 Unamused, he snorted, “I’ll try. I’ve always been told that I’m too trusting.”

 Byleth gazed at him, her lips slightly parted and her head tilted to the side, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

 Now, Jeralt’s arm over her shoulders was even tighter. He looked annoyed as he yanked her away from Dimitri, scowling. “There’s plenty wrong with it, By.” With his back to him, he raised a hand, calling out as Byleth regained her balance and followed at his heels, “See ya tomorrow, kid.”

 Byleth sent him a glance. Dimitri sent her a smile. 

 Now, he was Dima, the traveler named after his grandfather. A mystery with no responsibilities, who would help fight bandits with two strangers he had just met. 

 Dima was not getting married in a week. Dima was well traveled and could be anywhere he wanted at any time. Dima made friends easily, and it didn’t matter what their status of nobility was. 

 Dima could talk to girls with fetching eyes and didn’t get paranoid that they wanted to marry him to become Queen. Dima could smile, and not have to worry about gossip from the court. 

 Dimitri really, truly, wanted to be Dima.

 Monday

 Fighting Jeralt and Byleth had tired out the Prince far more than he assumed, and sleep had hit like an arrow in the back. Monday morning proved to be absolute torture. 

 It was around 8 a.m. when he lay face down in his bed. He knew that Dedue stood outside the door, but was much too kind to wake him. 

 Despite his laziness, he felt in good spirits. He had managed to get a good night of rest for the first time in weeks. He wondered if he should hire the strongest fighters in the country and spar with them daily in order to tire him out. Was that the secret to sleeping well?

 Perhaps, it was that he had Byleth and Jeralt waiting for him. Perhaps it was having an actual purpose for the day instead of wedding planning. Whatever the reason for his high spirits, he revelled in the feeling. 

 Rolling over in bed and staring at the ceiling, he heard Dedue shift outside of the door. He waved his hand lazily, “Come in, you don’t have to stand there, my friend.”

 The knob turned, and the door opened to reveal his retainer. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “You slept in today.”

 “Apologies,” he sat up, “I just slept well for once.”

 “Is that tea helping?”

 Dimitri eyed the half drank cup of tea on his bedside table, “I appreciate the chamomile, but I’m afraid it’s not enough. I think I was just tired from… my riding yesterday.”

 Dedue raised a brow. 

 “I, also… may have gotten into a fight.”

 “Ah.”

 “It’s fine, don’t worry! I didn’t even get hit.” 

 “Hmm.”

 It was like having a large, muscular mother. Dimitri frowned, “I was fine, really. I’m even going back this morning to finish the job.”

 “I’ll go with you.”

 He picked at his bedsheet, if only for something to fidget with while under his retainer’s gaze, “No, I ask that you don’t…”

 “...May I ask why?”

 “Yes,” the Prince spoke slowly, “I… just feel that I need some alone time.”

 “Alone time facing bandits?”

 “There’s only one or two of them left.” Another lie, another string on his web. Showing such dishonesty to a stranger was one thing, but to Dedue was an entirely different beast. He found himself frowning, uncomfortable by his own choice of words. 

 “I still think I should go with you.”

 “I beg of you,” Dimitri tried to diffuse the situation with a light voice, putting his hand up in defense and forcing a smile onto his lips, “I need some time alone. I’m getting married in a week, for goodness sake. It’s quite the life change.”

 It was not something Dedue could argue with, as he had taken his first and only ever vacation the week before his own marriage. He spent the entire time gardening and muttering to himself in his mother tongue, obviously deep in thought. 

 Yet, the difference there was that he was in love with Mercedes, and was meditating on how best to be a husband to her. Dimitri had never met Lady Eisner, and had no feelings even close to what Dedue had felt. 

 His retainer could understand, though, and backed away, “Okay. All I ask is for you to be safe, though.”

 “I will, my friend, I promise.”

 He nodded, backing out of the room fully, “I’ll send for breakfast.” 

 “Thank you.” The subject was dropped, thankfully, and Dimitri could finally begin getting ready for his appointment. 

 The village was an hour or so’s ride away, and he took the fastest horse he had. Rufus had not shown his face in the castle that morning, nor the wedding planner, and Dimitri could only hope that he had evaded their intentions at least for the next few hours. 

 Upon arriving in the village, he caught sight of Byleth waiting outside of the inn, drawing pictures in the dirt with a long stick. She glanced up at the sound of hooves clopping along the road, and her eyes shined with a subdued excitement.

 “She’s nice. Yours?”

 Dimitri hopped from his horse and lay a hand on the brown mane, admiring it, “Yes, one of mine.”

 “One of yours?” She questioned softly, “You have more than one horse?”

 How stupid he felt, and he had not even been there for 30 seconds yet. Already bragging about how many horses he had, when normal travelers rarely could even afford one horse to begin with. 

 He cleared his throat and shifted in place, “Had. I lost my other horse years ago…”

 “Oh,” compassion flitted across her features, “I’m sorry. I lost my pet frog last year, and it was very difficult.”

 “...Pet frog?”

 “His name was Turnip,” she grimaced, “Father accidentally stepped on him.”

 “That’s… gross.” Squashed frog did not make for a kind mental image.

 Byleth’s laugh was airy, yet she covered her mouth once more. Her head was thrown back just the slightest, and her eyes closed, but her hand shielded his sight from the one thing he was most curious about. 

 Did she have messed up teeth? Were they black, or missing? Was she one of those people whose gums were really large and teeth very small? Why did she cover her mouth?

 He could only wonder as she laughed at his scrunched up nose and furrowed brow, “I’m only kidding with you.”

 “Your sense of humor is…” he gave a breathy chuckle, “subtle.”

 She had looked so serious when talking of Turnip the Frog being crushed by her father’s foot. Dimitri couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head at him, “So I’ve been told. I don’t even try to be sarcastic, it just doesn’t work.”

 “Me neither, it doesn’t come naturally.”

 “My father, though,” she glanced over her shoulder at the entrance to the inn, “he’s trying to teach me sarcasm.”

 “All I ever learned from my father was how to stab things,” he deadpanned, “and how to properly carve a gourd to turn it into a flute.”

 “A flute?”

 “That’s a story for another time, “ he shrugged, feeling uncomfortable on the subject of his father. Despite the bantering, joking nature between them, Dimitri was entirely out of his element when it came to wit and word-play. He shifted his attention to the door, “Where is your father anyway?”

 Her eyes lingered on him, making him feel a bit humid under her unexplainable gaze. Content, she leaned back on the porch and rested her palms on the wood, “He’s not feeling well today. I’m not sure if he’ll join us.”

 “Is he okay?”

 “He…” she cleared her throat and closed her eyes, “he drank too much last night.”

 A hangover, something Dimitri had not gotten to experience in years. If he was ever allowed to drink it was only the smallest amount, and he had very little desire to drink in the first place. “I can come back later, if you like?”

 “No, just give it a minute,” she patted the spot beside her, “if you don’t mind waiting.”

 Another moment entirely out of his element. Byleth was a bit intimidating, yet Dimitri could sense that she was trying not to be. He lowered himself beside her, feeling his legs were too big for the small steps of the porch. “I don’t mind.”

 She hummed in response, and a comfortable silence blanketed between the two. His discomfort began to melt away with the passing moments, eyes lingering on the waving grass in front of him. Byleth rested her cheek in her palm, slumping over in a way no proper lady of the court ever would. 

 If Dimitri was seen sitting next to a girl at a ball, the walls would erupt with sheer gossip. 

 Now, as Dima, he could sit peacefully and enjoy the breeze, waiting for a hungover man to stop vomiting. 

 “So, a flute?”

 Byleth’s question broke through the silence. She earned a smile from the Prince as he reminiscenced, “If you carve out a gourd and cut holes in the right places, it makes music when you blow in it. Not particularly beautiful music, but my father and I could do a few pieces together.”

 “I’ll have to try that.”

 Comfortable silence fell once more. After several moments, the door behind them opened with a bang. Byleth straightened up and glanced over her shoulder to catch Jeralt stumbling from the doorway. Dimitri sent him a smile, and was greeted with tired, narrowed eyes. 

 “Goodmorning!” Byleth’s voice was saccharine and cheery. 

 Jeralt grunted, “Don’t talk so loud.”

 Noted. Dimitri made it a point to speak softly, “Are you feeling well enough? I don’t mind waiting…”

 He truly didn’t. It would’ve been a relief to spend more time in disguise in the small village. He had several friends he could visit, and would be able to fill time easily. Yet, Jeralt scoffed, shoulders slumped, “Let’s just go.”

 It was decided, then. Dimitri and Byleth stood, stepping off the porch and onto the ground to let Jeralt stumble past them. He slung an arm over his daughter’s shoulder, putting his weight onto her. She held him up with ease. 

 It was only a few more steps down the road until Dimitri took Jeralt’s other arm. The older man groaned in annoyance, but allowed the support as the two nearly drug him into the forest. His head was slumped over, eyes shut tightly as he shielded himself from the sun. 

 “Is this a regular occurence?” Dimitri asked quietly, whispering over Jeralt’s slumped neck. 

 Byleth sent him a quirk of her lips, amusement sparkling in her eyes, “Yes.”

 “Shush, it was just…” Jeralt huffed darkly, “free apple-ale night.”

 Apple ale sounded disgusting to Dimitri, but it was apparently good enough for Jeralt. After entering the forested area, they stopped to allow the older man to kneel down and vomit against a tree. 

 Byleth took the opportunity while her father emptied his guts, “We should just go by ourselves.”

 Dimitri watched her stroke his back, delicate hand rubbing circles through his jacket as he threw up once more. He could never imagine Lambert having been in that position, yet he had not ever gotten the opportunity to know his father as an adult. Perhaps it was different when one grew up, and the parent allowed themselves to become more at peace, vomiting wildly on a tree while their child soothed them. 

 How odd. It was unimaginable. “Are you sure you want to leave him?”

 Jeralt lifted his head, “No! Don’t go anywhere, kid, you know the rules.”

 “I’m a grown woman,” her tone was laced with annoyance, “that rule doesn’t apply.”

 “It will always apply.”

 She ignored her father, stepping past him and gesturing for a hesitant Dima to follow, “Let’s just go. It’ll be faster if it’s just us.”

 Dimitri glanced at Jeralt, who looked at him with baggy, narrowed eyes. They gazed at each other, and Dimitri hesitated. Until Jeralt began coughing again, and waved his hand, “Just go. But if you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

 The point was loud and clear. Dimitri straightened up, feeling like a soldier under a seasoned general’s command, rather than a 23 year old Prince being threatened by an old commoner. “Yes sir.”

 Satisfied with his response, Jeralt allowed himself to rest against the tree and take a deep sigh. Dimitri stepped past him and followed Byleth, who waited for him to catch up further ahead. 

 Her gaze was blank, eyes blinking as she watched him approach, “He’s fine, this is just a normal Monday.”

 A normal Monday, of course. But not for him.

 “I’m usually doing paperwork by now,” he snorted as he followed, “and on my fourth cup of tea.”

 “We can have tea when we get back,” she lit up ever so slightly, “I have all types you can try, if you’d like.”

 Truthfully, he didn’t expect to still be sticking around once they got back. Yet, tea sounded wonderful. Being away from the castle and wedding planning sounded wonderful. He wouldn’t dream of refusing her tempting offer. “I’d love to.”

Tuesday

 Dimitri had not ever found himself so excited for a Tuesday morning. 

 The dining table was filled beautifully, as per usual. Several knights sat at the end of the table digging into sausages and bacon, while Dedue sat next to Rufus and picked at his eggs. Dimitri took no seat, though, and only leaned over the table to snatch a croissant from the pastry tower, “I’ll be back this evening,” his took a quick bite, “I’ve got some business in town today.”

 A raised brow, a frozen fork. A frown from the King Regent, “Oh, do you?”

 “I’m very busy,” the prince nodded, taking another bite with one hand on his hip, “Babies to kiss, hands to shake. You know.”

 Dedue and Rufus shared a look. His uncle glowered at him, “You’re lying.”

 “Seiros hates lying, Uncle. I was taught better.”

 He was, that much was true. It was a shame that he was becoming so damn good at it. 

 “Where’re you going?” Rufus demanded as his grip on his silverware tightened. Several curious knights and servants glanced their way curiously, and Dimitri rolled on the balls of his feet as he ignored their eyes. 

 “I told you,” he assured, “I have business. Please, trust me,” he smiled, wiping at his mouth to erase a few crumbs, “I’m going to be the King soon, I’m just preparing.”

 Dedue looked away. He had already spoken to Dimitri that morning about the village, about his rides, about his secrecy. He knew to not question his friend’s motives. 

 Rufus sighed in defeat and returned to glaring at his cold eggs. There was no way he could argue with the future King, with his coronation so close ahead. And it was true, he did need to prepare. Rufus had done some of his own preparations before taking his place as Regent, and was busy even now with not being Regent any longer.  “Don’t get killed.”

 Dimitri won. Victorious, he took another bite from his croissant, and felt like skipping as he left the dining room. 

 Yesterday’s tea with Byleth and a hungover Jeralt was enjoyable, mainly because Jeralt was taking a nap on a nearby couch while the two tried different teas. Byleth was a wonderful host, with wonderful handling of the kettle and the cups. 

  “I was taught how to serve from a young age,” she had informed softly, “I know it’s odd for a traveler to do this.”

 “I don’t think it’s odd at all. This is simply your hobby, correct?”

  Her smile held it’s own secrets, “Yes, it’s my hobby.”

  And what a wonderful hobby it was. The conversation was simple, and quite mindless. Byleth poured her own tea as she tapped her foot anxiously under the table, “I’m sorry to be a boring conversational partner. I’m still practicing how to talk to people.”

  It didn’t matter much to him. The beats of silence were comfortable, and he felt that she didn’t expect him to blabber endlessly as some others usually did. “I find it refreshing. It’s nice to not have to talk of heavy things all the time.”

 “Do you usually talk of heavy things?”

  He had frozen, and only sent her a tight smile, “Doesn’t everybody?”

  Dimitri thought of the conversations with joy. At one point, she had melted into a passionate - as passionate as she seemed to get - ramble about fishing, and he watched with glee. 

 No proper court lady would ever dream about touching a fish! Byleth adored it, and could tell him what type of fish were in what bodies of water. She obviously loved the hobby, and obviously loved her tea, and she had taken on those bandits with the techniques of a seasoned fighter.

 He could only hope his Lady Eisner that he would marry on Sunday was as interesting of a woman as Byleth. 

 Dimitri made his way out of the castle and to the stables once more. He frequented the stables most of the week, but it was his second morning of making bee-lines straight to the horses. He chose the same he had yesterday, not wanting to raise questions by taking a different mount every day he visited Jeralt and Byleth.

 Monday’s tea served as a wonderful rest from the fight with the bandits. Dimitri and Byleth took quick care of them, yet found themselves tired as they made their way back to the village. She was wiping the blood from her sword as she walked, glancing his way, “I liked your form, Dima. If you’re free, and not tired of us yet, maybe you could come by tomorrow and we can spar.”

  Obviously, Dimitri would not refuse the chance to spar, especially with one so well battled as Byleth. 

 As he saddled the horse up, he couldn’t help but smile ear to ear. He would spar with her, he would learn something new, and perhaps he would forget, just for a moment, about his impending doom. 

 He wondered if Lady Eisner ever sparred. Most likely not, as she was from the Church. She was probably a healer, and that would be nice when his shoulder hurt from his past battles, but overall it wouldn’t be as fun as fighting with Byleth would be. 

 After an hour’s ride to the village, he met her outside of the inn once more. She waited for him with a wicker basket in one hand, and her sword in the other. 

 Her close-lipped smile was a wonderful greeting to his excited heart, “Are you ready? There’s a nice field a half mile out I thought we could eat breakfast in…” she tensed at an afterthought,  “Have you eaten already?” 

 “Just a pastry,” he dropped from his horse, feet hitting the ground firmly as he stood before Byleth, “I slept in late and was in quite the hurry to meet you.”

 “Well, that’s nice of you,” her eyebrows raised, “I made bacon and sweetcakes.”

 “You cooked? I thought travelers only ate jerky and grilled bear.”

 She looked away, “A friend of mine near Gaspard taught me, he’s wonderful. We really should hurry though,” she mused, “It’s getting cold.”

 “Right.” He lodged his foot into the saddle, pulling himself up onto his mount and holding his hand out for her. She pushed the basket into the crook of her elbow and took his offering, letting herself be pulled up behind him in the saddle. 

 Her arms snaked around his waist, fingers knitting together as they rested in front of his stomach. It was the closest he’d ever been to a girl, and he felt like an awkward, hormonal teenager again. 

 “Direct me,” he informed lightly, slowly, “I’m afraid I don’t know the field you’re talking of.”

 Faerghus didn’t have many fields, that was to say the least. There were valleys between mountains, more mountains, and many cliffs. The Talitean plains were the main fields of the country, and had only come about from years of farming and terraforming the lands around it. 

 Yet, she pointed her hand in the direction, and he led the mount towards it. Jeralt was nowhere to be seen, though Dimitri swore he could see an angry glare from behind the curtains of the inn window. 

 “I know it’s a little odd to be having a picnic before sparring,” Byleth spoke over the clopping of the horse’s hooves, “I’m just excited, I guess.”

 Dimitri found his own stomach swirling in a mix of excitement and nervousness himself. He glanced at her over his shoulder, “Oh?”

 He felt her nod against his back, “I don’t usually make friends on our travels. It’s rather difficult for me. And nobody at the church really likes me.”

 Dimitri paused, “The church?”

 “Yes. It’s where my mother was from, though we’re originally from Western Faerghus, we settled down in Garreg Mach.”

 “I went to the Officers Academy there, I wonder if we ever crossed paths?”

 “Probably not, I was gone a lot with my father, and as I said, not very popular.”

 He raked through his memories, wondering if he had ever seen her, even once. It would’ve been an interesting development, at least, for them to have been in the same place at the same time. It was so very interesting, that he forgot that he was playing the part of a common traveler, and not many common travelers attended the Academy. 

 Byleth was the first to catch on, cocking her head in curiosity, “You didn’t tell me much about yourself yesterday during tea. You went to the Academy?”

 He grimaced. His head was facing away from her, and with her sitting behind him she wouldn’t easily see the look of pain flashing over his face. “Oh, it was a long time ago. I think I was their charity case, to be honest.”

 She hummed in thought, “They do like those, don’t they?”

 They did. Anything to make the church feel better. Even Lady Eisner was offered for the arranged marriage as a way to make the church look charitable for helping out the Kingdom. 

 Dimitri rode on through the forest, allowing Byleth to point in which direction he should go. The trees began to clear out, the thickness and thorns becoming less common as he steered his obedient horse. Her hands remained around him, and her breath hot on his back through his plain woolen jacket. 

 She wore nice clothes, but not anything near what a noble would wear. Her hair was brushed, and pulled into a choppy braid thrown over her shoulder, and a brown vest under her too-big jacket. Byleth wore the odd look well, it suited her in a way it would suit no other. 

 “What’re you and your father doing in this part of the country?” Dimitri filled the comfortable silence with small talk. It was a question that had been nagging softly at him since they met. Neither of them seemed particularly busy with any jobs. 

 She sighed, and her arms loosened. She pulled away, “Go left.”

 He went left, and waited silently for her response. 

 Eventually, she seemed to work up the desire to speak, though it was begrudging, “We’re here for the prince’s wedding this Sunday.”

 Stay calm. Stay cool. He gulped, and forced a smile as he followed her direction through the trees, “You must quite loyal to the Blaiddyds to travel just for the wedding.”

 “I suppose you could say that.”

 Dimitri would not pry any longer. He wanted to escape the subject as quickly as possible, and as casually as it would allow. “I’ll be there too. Perhaps we could save a dance for each other.”

 “Perhaps.”

 Or perhaps she would see that he was the prince, and she would be disgusted with his blatant dishonesty. Perhaps she would slap him, and yell at him for being her friend without even telling her his real name. He doubted that there would be any dances saved. 

 Yet, he couldn’t stop lying! It was ingrained in him, a part of his identity as Dima the Traveler. With the field of flowers approaching through the treeline ahead, he couldn’t possibly tell Byleth who he was now. Heading back to the village would be far more awkward than he could possibly handle. 

 Perhaps he could tell her when they arrived back after sparring? Yes, that was a good idea. He nodded to himself, decision made. 

 The field, at least, was beautiful. Without warning, Byleth shimmed off the horse and landed on her feet, running into the middle of the meadow. 

 Dimitri kicked the side of the beast softly to slow it’s pace, and let himself off. While Byleth was plopping down into a bed of flowers, Dimitri only watched with subdued excitement. 

 Dedue would’ve adored it, he most likely could’ve told him every single species that grew there. He’d have to take him and Mercedes one day, perhaps for their anniversary. 

 Byleth looked at him as he tied the horse up to a thin tree, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

 “It is,” there was no denying that, “I didn’t know things like this even grew in Faerghus.”

 She plucked a light pink wildflower, stuffing it into a part of her braid as the young girls in the villages often did. Her smile was soft, subtle, but shown brighter than the sun. 

 “Why did you cover your smile before?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Byleth froze, her lips falling and her hand being raised to cover her face in an instant. 

 “I don’t even notice half the time,” she spoke from behind her hand, “I didn’t think it was even that noticeable.”

 He joined her among the flowers, “It’s no big deal, of course, I was just curious.” Gently, he wrapped a hand around her wrist, and pulled her palm away from her mouth, “Your smile is lovely.”

 Byleth offered him one. He returned it in the same way. She looked as if she was used to this conversation from people, “I’ve been told my smile is a bit intimidating before.”

 “They were lying.”

 A beat of silence. Byleth looked away, wanting to tear herself from the subject. “I hope you don’t have allergies. Father was sneezing endlessly when we found this place.”

 “I don’t know if I do or not, I’ve never been to an area like this.” He eyed the pink flower twisted into her dark hair. It contrasted, but looked as if it belonged. His own hair was long enough to braid into something stubby and ugly, but the light color of the wildflowers would’ve just blended in with his blond. 

 Byleth watched him with her fetching smile and her fetching eyes, “I give you permission to still come here after I’m gone.”

 “You own this meadow?”

 “I do, sir, I do.”

 “Well, I think the King owns this meadow.”

 She frowned, “The king owns nothing. He may think he owns everything, but he owns nothing. And that’s that.”

 “King Regent Rufus certainly does think tha-”

 “No. King Derek Blaiddyd - whatever his name is.”

 “Derek Blaiddyd?”

 “I don’t pay enough attention,” she huffed, “It starts with a D.”

 Dimitri tensed. He would ignore being called ‘Derek’, though he couldn’t blame her for not paying much attention. He certainly was too boring to remember. “He isn’t a King yet.”

 “But he will be, won’t he,” Byleth pushed, now looking serious as she twiddled with a blade of grass, “All Kings think they own everything. And that poor girl that’s marrying him, he doesn’t own her either.”

 Dimitri certainly didn’t feel like he owned everything. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He barely even owned his own mind. 

 But, she was right. He didn’t own Lady Eisner either. He’d never dream of it. He didn’t even want to own her. 

 Shrugging, he tried his best to look nonchalant, “You’re correct, she’s her own person.”

 She gestured at him with a wilted pink flower, “Right. She is.”

 “You seem very passionate about this.”

 “I am.”

 “She’s from Garreg Mach as well, at least I hear. Do you know her?”

 Byleth shrugged. “I don’t. Let’s just eat breakfast, it’s getting colder by the minute.”

 And it truly was. She rustled in the wicker basket, pulling out small plates that she had pilfered/borrowed from the inn and handing one to him. After depositing cold bacon and a sweet cake onto his plate, she began making her own. 

 “I brought tea as well, but only in canteens,” she pulled the teabags from a pouch, “I didn’t want to risk breaking my cups.”

 Her cups were quite exquisite, and she obviously treasured them. Dimitri watched as she boiled water in a canteen with a fire spell on the tips of her fingers, and deposited the tea bags into the water with a small ‘plop’. 

 “I’ve never been on a picnic,” he admitted as he chewed on the sweetcake, “this is wonderful.”

 She eyed him, “How’s that taste?”

 Like nothing. It was simply a gooey bread texture on his tongue. “Very good.”

 Her head cocked, “Thank you, Dima.”

 Another lie to add to the list. He wondered if he could ever stop now. 

 After breakfast and morning tea was finished, then put away into the basket, the sparring began. 

 It was entirely standard, not exciting within the first few minutes. She unsheathed her sword, taking an instance swipe at Dimitri’s midriff. He pulled back just in time to jab with his lance, and she dodged with admirable speed. Another swipe, another surprise swing of a lance, blocked by her blade. 

 Dimitri had been so focused on getting past her defenses, that he found himself not paying proper attention to Byleth’s footwork. She kicked Dimitri’s legs out from under him before he could react, sending him stumbling onto his bottom into a bed of colorful weeds. 

 Before he could retaliate, she stood over him, pointing her sword at his neck with a playful expression. The tip of her blade lingered against his skin and raised his chin up to meet her eyes, “I have a game I’d like to play, Dima.”

 His brow raised. The sun illuminated behind her. “Game?”

 “If you win, I’ll tell you my biggest secret.”

 “And if you win?”

 “You tell me yours.”

 Risky. Entirely too risky. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

 She pulled back, casually sheathing her sword and turning her head away. He stood from his spot on the ground and brushed the crushed flowers off his back as he watched her ignore him pointedly. “I suppose we’ve done enough sparring for the day, then…”

 “What?” He was taken aback, “It’s only been a minute at the most!”

 Byleth looked at him, “I only spar with those willing to risk something. You won’t fight me for real if you don’t have a motive for winning.”

 “Can my motive for winning not be…” he thought for a moment, spreading his palms out at his sides as his shoulders tensed, “simply to win?”

 “No. You’ll still go easy on me.”

 “I promise I won't.”

 “Hit me, then.”

 He jabbed his lance at her, and she dodged easily. 

 “You’re being slow on purpose,” she reprimanded as she went for another kick at his stomach, and he stepped back just at the right moment to dodge, “fight for real, Dima!”

 Fine. If she wanted to fight for real, he would fight for real. He simply couldn’t afford to lose.

He was the Prince, soon to be King, of Faerghus. He’d fought many battles, led calvaries into the most dangerous of situations, and trained every day without fail. Byleth was good, but not good enough. 

 So he thought, until she beat him. 

 It was only five minutes later, both Byleth and Dimitri panting and sweating from the excursion. His lance lay several feet away in the flowers, just out of reach. Byleth’s sword rested gently on his neck as they stared at each other. 

 She offered a smile, hair falling around her like a curtain, “I win.”

 She certainly did. 

 Dimitri’s stomach churned and he couldn’t help but frown. Byleth only looked amused at his displeasure as she pulled away and sheathed her sword. He sat up, heart racing, and covered in weeds from being knocked down so harshly. 

 “You fight like a mercenary,” he commented as she picked up his lance, holding it out for him to take, “I didn’t know we were allowed to throw daisies in each other’s eyes.”

 “I usually prefer sand, but all I could grab were daisies.”

 He took the lance, twisting it over his shoulder and sighing. She gave a great heave and plopped down next to him with exhaustion. He watched as she threw her head back and looked at the sky.

 Her neck was so bare, so open. A perfectly soft place to touch, it looked like. 

 And his hormonal awkwardness returned as if he was 12 again. He scowled and forced his eyes away, instead staring at a particularly large hyacinth growing nearby, “Do you still demand my secret?”

 “Oh, of course.”

 She was relentless. Dimitri had no idea that he’d be charmed by such a wicked smile. 

 He was weak. Truly.

 “Women are dangerous creatures,” he informed, his own lips twisting into a half smirk, “I only know you for two days and you’re already demanding my biggest secret.”

 “Well, I had to beat it out of you,” she chuckled, “I didn’t exactly use my charm.”

 “I prefer it this way.”

 “I didn’t think you preferred it at all.”

 “I don’t,” he shrugged, “but you did beat me, so I suppose I have to comply.”

 And comply he did, in the most dishonestly honest way possible. 

 Dimitri racked his brain for a moment, trying to find the vaguest words that he could muster. “My secret, hm…” thinking, processing, wondering, “it’s rather embarrassing.”

 And it wouldn’t be a lie. It most certainly was not his biggest secret, and it was truly only a secret to Byleth. Everybody else in the Kingdom knew but her. 

 She waited patiently for him. 

 He went on, sheepishness slowly devouring his mind. He would just spit it out, rip it off like a bandaid.

 “My family has gotten me engaged, and I’ve never been in a relationship before. So I’m marrying this woman I’ve never met, and I’ve never even kissed someone. You holding onto me while riding here was the closest I’ve been to a woman, truthfully,” that was the most embarrassing part, he supposed, “I’m resentful, and I’m scared, and I’m frankly really annoyed that this is happening.”

 Her eyes were wide. Silence fell as he exhaled from speaking so quickly. 

 Byleth was the first to break the pause, leaning in to him and cocking her head, “You’re not the Prince, are you?”

 “N-No!” He waved his hand wildly, “My wedding is… two weeks from now!”

 It was the worst lie he’d ever executed, yet Byleth drank every word sincerely. Compassion grew on her face, and she put a hand to her chest, “Dima, goodness. That’s… the same as me.”

 “...What?”

 “I’m being married off too,” she nodded sincerely, “Me and my father are traveling together right now because it’s the last time we’ll ever have to ourselves. And I’ve never been in a relationship either, I’m rather scared.”

 He was shocked, taken aback. Musing, he twisted a weed around just to have something to fidget with, “I didn’t think arranged marriages were so common.”

 “Oh, “ she waved a hand nonchalantly, “they happen all the time.”

 He was more sheltered than he thought. 

 Byleth drew closer, and Dimitri found his attention being stolen by her proximity. She smelled of lavender, and her hair was soft under the sunlight above. She smiled as if he was the only person in the world, “I have an idea.”

 His breath had been taken away, but he found it after a minute of absolute blank mindedness, “Y-Yes?”

 “We’re both quite inexperienced,” she began, looking down awkwardly, “and I know I’ll never see you again after my marriage.”

 “I don’t think I’ll see you either.”

 “Right. So why don’t we....” she shifted uncomfortably, then looked at him once more, “practice being in a relationship together?”

 He blinked. 

 She rambled on, more quickly than ever, “I-I know it sounds weird, Dima. But hear me out, it won’t mean anything. We’ll just be friends, not in a real relationship, and I think if we practice on each other then we’ll both feel much better when in our respective marriages.”

 Slowly, and shocked, he finished her thought, “And we’ll never see each other again afterwards.”

 She nodded, “Yes.”

 “I…” It was rare that Dimitri found himself at a loss for words. ‘Uh’ wasn’t particularly intelligent sounding, but it was the only thing coming from his mouth. Byleth stared at him with more confidence than he could ever dream of having. 

 “It’s okay to say no,” she interrupted his ‘uhh’-ing, “it won’t hurt my feelings.”

 Dimitri’s response was immediate and rushed, “It’s not that I’m saying no! I just… am still taking it in.”

 “It’s a lot to think about, but really there would not be any feelings involved.”

 “Is that…” he furrowed his brow in thought, “right to do, though? Is it okay to kiss and touch someone that you have no intention of feeling anything for?”

 She huffed,, “I think it’s okay, it’s just practice. I’m in the same boat as you, I’m terrified. I don’t even know how to kiss a man!”

 It was comical, the look on her face. Dimitri supposed that he had the same ‘deer caught in the light’ wide eyed expression. They mirrored each other’s discomfort, until he managed to laugh, “I feel like we’re kids.”

 She snorted, “It is kind of childish, isn’t it?”

 Incredibly so, but neither of them had gotten the chance as children. Now, as adults, it was the perfect time. 

 Neither of them know who the other truly was, and they wouldn’t see each other after being married. Dimitri found himself growing warm to the idea, resting his hand on top of Byleth’s and sending her a reassuring nod, “I’ll do it.”

 Byleth genuinely looked grateful. It was the oddest way he’d helped one of his civilians, but his nervousness was beginning to melt away as she looked up at him. “Thank you.”

 “Are we keeping this from Jeralt?”

 Her eyes widened, “Yes, of course. He’d murder you.”

 “Noted.” 

 “Shall we, uh, start tomorrow?”

 He gulped, “Like a date?”

 “Yes,” she nodded slowly, “like a date.”

 Wednesday

 Dimitri had a date. With a friend. A friend date.

 He wasn’t exactly sure what to wear. 

 “My lord, it fits you beautifully,” the tailor flitted about him with a long measuring tape, eyes wide and calculating as he inspected every inch of the Prince, “You cut a dashing figure.”

 Dimitri didn’t feel very dashing. His reflection showed dark eye bags, pale skin, and unbrushed hair. He ran his fingers through his scalp in an attempt to tame the blond madness on the top of his head, “You don’t think it’s too showy?”

 “Not at all!”

 The height of his tone told Dimitri that he did, indeed, think it was too showy. 

 Yet, there was not enough time left to make another wedding garment for him. The thick cotton of his overcoat was imported from Southern Adrestia, and his vest, suspenders, and undershirt had been dyed very particularly to match the badges and crests of honor pinned to the coat. His boots were newly polished, leather with expensive laces, and his slacks were gingerly stuffed into said boots with tailored care. 

 How he wished he could just wear his Great Lord’s armor, it was regal enough. Loog had worn the same armor, for goodness sake. Yet Rufus and the wedding planner insisted upon the intricate fabrics of a wedding suit. 

 He felt like a stuffed sausage. The man that stared back at him in the mirror was not Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. 

 And he certainly did not want to wear this nonsensical wedding suit to meet Byleth for his date - which he was already late for. 

 “It’s fine,” he stepped off the stage and avoided looking in the mirror, “just loosen up the undershirt a bit and we’ll be good.”

 “Oh,” the measuring tape was held up like an expectant weapon, “let me jus-”

 “You have my measurements,” it was a command Kingly enough to stop the tailor midstep, “you don’t need anymore.”

 With that, he shed the jacket, and unbuckled the dreaded suspenders. The tailor cleared his throat and busied himself with gathering Dimitri’s shed clothes. He walked as he left the dressing room, like a snake leaving his very fancy, imported skin behind. 

 Now in a loose white undershirt and having replaced the slacks with his riding pants, he left the small building that the tailor claimed his center of operations. It was on the West side of the castle grounds, and Dimitri needed to make his way to the East, where the horses waited. 

 He was late for his first ever date, yet he had no idea what he and Byleth were even doing! Practicing holding hands, perhaps, it was always good to start slow. 

 The prince ran past servants and guards as quickly as he could. Dedue had been given the day to spend with Mercedes, though Dimitri felt guilty at having not spent much time with his friend since last weekend. To be with his wife, at least, would give him something to fill his day, rather than wandering around the castle with no Prince to retain. 

 As Dimitri approached the stables to escape for the third time that week, he thought of yesterday’s events. 

 The ride back to the village was an awkward one, yet Byleth rested her head on his back so peacefully. The goodbye, even, was incredibly awkward, but sweet in an adolescent way. He swore that Jeralt was still glaring at him from the inn window.

 Dimitri had spent yesterday evening in a thoughtful daze, and had startled at even the smallest of sounds. Rufus only eyed him across the table at dinner with suspicion. 

 This Wednesday morning, he had been informed of his fate with the tailor, and had promptly skipped breakfast to get the fitting done and over with. As much as he despised being the elegantly stuffed sausage, he had a feeling Lady Eisner would adore the suit. Noble ladies always adored that sort of thing. 

 “Hello,” he greeted the stablemaster, who was not surprised at all to see him, “I’ll have my usual mount.”

 “Right,” he went about gathering the horse, “She smelled quite good yesterday. Like flowers.”

 Dimitri had caught his beloved horse rolling around in a lavender patch in the meadow. He didn’t have the heart to stop the animal from perfuming itself. “Sorry about that. A little girl in the Market District rubbed some herbs on her.”

 The worker lit up as he handed over the reins, “How nice of you to visit the people! My mother works there!”

 “I’ll have to tell her hello.”

 “Please do!”

 Wonderful. Now, to keep his appearances up, Dimitri had to take a detour into the market district and tell Jerry’s old mother hello. He would be even more late for his ‘date’ - friend date, that was.

 Byleth awaited him on the porch of the inn as per usual. There was not even a trace of annoyance on her face as she watched him approach, chewing on a peach and eyes lingering. 

 He nearly jumped off his horse and ran to her, “I’m so sorry! I know it’s later than we said we’d meet, but I had a few chores that needed taken care of, and people just kept talking to me, and then I got sidetracked in the market and bought a new book, and then-”

 She took another bite of her peach. Her silence halted Dimitri’s rambled explanation. 

 He sighed, shoulders losing tension as he realized that she truly, honestly, didn’t care. 

 Byleth threw the pit aside as she finished her fruit, “Life happens. It’s fine.”

 “Thank you.” His smile was grateful, and stomach losing it’s anxiety as she returned the smile with a small one of her own. 

 He wondered about Lady Eisner, if she would be so patient with him. She certainly would have to be, as his level of busy-ness would only grow after the coronation. 

 “So,” he shifted in place, holding the reins of the horse in one hand and stuffing his other into the pocket of his usual woolen commoners jacket, “what’re we doing today?”

 She wiped her hands on her pants, “Goodness, isn’t that for you to decide? I picked out yesterday’s thing.”

 “I’m afraid I don’t know of any meadows to take you.”

 “Tragic.”

 “You’re getting better at sarcasm.”

 “Why thank you.”

 He racked his brain. What did girls like? What did he like that girls would like? And how could they possibly turn a date into a way to practice being in a relationship?

 He realized, suddenly, that no matter how late he stayed up the night before pondering over his situation - he still had absolutely zero ideas or answers. 

 “We could...” he spoke without thinking, “play cards?”

 She furrowed her brows, “Is that something couples do?”

 “I… don’t know… uh,” how intelligent he sounded again with the ‘uhs’, “we could drink?”

 “Again, is that something couples do?”

 “I think so, but it doesn’t sound terribly romantic.”

 “Maybe that’s more of a having been married for years thing.”

 “Well, we’re both going to be in our own respective marriages soon.”

 A pause for thought. Byleth hummed, then nodded, “You’re right. Let’s drink.”

 It wasn’t even lunch yet, and the two burst into the tavern ready for anything. Jeralt watched them from a table, and after telling their orders for beer to the owner, he gestured for them to approach the seats in front of him. 

 Dimitri carried both Byleth’s drink and his as she walked in front of him. At least that was one romantic thing, to carry her drink - even if he did spill it on his shoe a little. 

 Jeralt greeted the two with a raised brow, “What’s going on here?”

 Byleth was the master at acting casual, “We’re having a drink. And possibly playing cards.”

 He blinked, brows furrowed. 

 His daughter went on obliviously, “That’s what you and mother did, wasn’t it?”

 “Why… does that matter?”

 Dimitri stepped in to save the situation, setting the frothing mugs of beer on the table gingerly. “We’re having an argument over what married couples do, but neither of us know.”

 Byleth nodded, “Yes, an argument.”

 “That’s a weird thing to argue over,” he snorted, “but okay, whatever. Your mom and I wouldn’t drink together, she’d embroider while I trained.”

 She stiffened, “I despise embroidery.”

 He waved a hand, gesturing to her beer and waving for her and Dimitri to take the seats. They did so, and Jeralt pulled a deck of old cards from the bag beside his seat, “Some couples may drink and play cards, who knows? Not that you two are a couple… right?”

 It was the most fatherly Dimitri had seen the man yet. He sent him a tight smile, “Not at all. It was just a friendly debate to fill time.”

 “Better be,” he flicked a card towards him, “I deal. The game is poker, no money bets because I don’t have any.”

 It was in that very moment that Dimitri realized one very important feature of his life. 

 He had never once played poker. 

 “I only know bridge.”

 Byleth eyed him, “Are you secretly an old lady?”

 “It was mainly old women that taught me, actually.”

 His nannies and nurses had entertained themselves with cards when he was a child. He was, apparently, the calmest Blaiddyd boy to have ever been born, and would rarely cry. He heard stories of just sitting in one place for hours playing with the same two block toys while his caretakers played bridge. 

 As he grew older, he began watching their games silently. It was the only card game he’d ever learned, or played. And that was only once when they were down a player. 

 Poker was not a game allowed in the castle. Rufus would often play with a fortunate servant here and there in his room, but it was a little known secret among the people. Dimitri had never even seen poker being played before. 

 Jeralt waved a hand, “Fine. Dima, you’re on a team with By.”

 On a team meant being able to see each other’s cards. Byleth scooted closer to him, and Dimitri closer to her. He could smell the fragrance of her once again as they nearly cuddled at the table behind the fan of cards she held. 

 Regret flashed across Jeralt’s face. “Hands up here.”

 Dimitri didn’t understand. He slowly raised both hands, “Like this?” He wondered if it was part of the game.

 “Don’t let me see those going under the table now, kid.”

 He didn’t really get why they would go under the table anyway. Simply nodding, he returned to leaning into Byleth, who glanced up at him with a small smile. 

 Jeralt watched. Frowning. 

 Dimitri sent him a smile. Unaware and entranced by the smell of strawberries. 

 He was like a hormonal teenager again. And perhaps cards and beer truly was romantic. With Byleth’s arm brushing against his, he couldn’t help but be pleased at his choice of date. 

 Even if it did include remaining under Jeralt’s stony glare. 

 “So, we’ll play this one,” she murmured to him, raising two cards for him to see. He leaned in closer to hear, and her breath smelled of beer - not an unpleasant scent at all, “and it’s not much, but it’s a start.”

 “Thank you, great professor,” he teased slowly, “I’m learning so much.”

 “We’ve just started! Don’t be a suck up.”

 “I can’t help it.”

 “Yes,” Jeralt intervened loudly, “you can.”

 He supposed he could. For the sake of her father, he leaned back a bit and sent him an embarrassed smile. “My apologies.”

 “Yeah, whatever.”

 Dimitri took another sip of his bitter beer while Byleth played the cards she picked, and was instantly rebutted by a much better play from Jeralt. Dimitri set his mug down, “What happened?”

 Byleth ignored him, pushing her wet napkin forward on the table, “Bet.”

 “Your napkin?” Jeralt raised a brow, “Okay, fine. Call.” He pushed his own napkin to the middle on top of hers.

 Dimitri had no idea what was happening. He assumed if there was money, that would be in the middle. Yet, there was nothing else on the table to bet. 

 Byleth gazed at her cards with critical eyes, and pulled out four, “See, Dima, this is a two pair. Not very good.”

 He leaned in to look simply to have an excuse to be closer to her, “I see.”

 She laid them on the table, and Jeralt only smirked. “Raise.” He fished a hand into his pocket, pulling out a piece of fuzz and setting it on top of the napkins.

 “Damn,” Byleth muttered, “do you have anything, Dima?”

 On the spot, he quickly dug into his jacket. His hand made contact with an even larger piece of fuzz. He held it up for inspection, “Will this do?”

 She nodded in thanks and he placed it on the table. 

 Dimitri hadn’t drank in so long that the weak beer felt strong on his tongue. He gulped it down as Byleth murmured the rules and instructions to him, though they were losing terribly. Dimitri pulled even more fuzz, and one paperclip, from his pocket to contribute to the middle of the table. 

 The smirk remained on Jeralt’s lips. He supposed that was his poker face, unending confidence. Dimitri feared that he just looked nervous. 

 Byleth had finished her own beer after several moments, raising a hand to call the barkeeper over to make another order. As Dimitri drank alongside the father and daughter pair, a thought occurred to him. 

 “You’re from Western Faerghus, correct?”

 Byleth looked at him in curiosity, “Yes?”

 “Well, we’re in Northern Faerghus.”

 “Yes?”

 “What’s made specially in Northern Faerghus?”

 Jeralt snorted. Byleth only narrowed her eyes in confusion. 

 A beat of silence. Jeralt sighed, “Scotch, kid. The Blaiddyd region is all about scotch.”

 Dimitri attached himself to the idea, now perked up and waving the barkeeper to him, “Let me treat you both! I have some gold saved!”

 “Hell, I won’t refuse!” Jeralt laughed, and as if to emphasize his point, he flapped a royal flush down onto the table. Byleth groaned and buried her face into her hands as Jeralt dragged the napkins, fuzz, and one paperclip to his chest. 

 “I’ll take a big glass of that Scot.”

 “Scotch,” Dimitri corrected, “and no, I don’t think you should. You use a small glass, and you sip it.”

 Her nose crinkled in the cutest way possible. Dimitri found himself smiling. 

 “Alcohol isn’t for sipping,” she reprimanded, “it’s for guzzling.”

 “Scotch is for sipping, trust me,” he sent a smile to the approaching barkeeper, “I’ll take a bottle of your Wellers, please.”

 “You sure?” He laughed, “that’s-”

 “I’ll take it, please.” 

 Dimitri didn’t want the price said aloud, though he knew Jeralt wouldn’t care. It was Byleth that would’ve argued with him over spending so much on liquor. The barkeeper shrugged and smiled as if his customer was stupid, only turning around and going down into the cellar. 

 “Weller,” Jeralt whistled, “I haven’t had that poison in ages.”

 Byleth stiffened, “Poison? Is that why you don’t drink much of it?”

 “Yep.”

 “Nasty.”

 Dimitri couldn’t help but feel pride, “They make that right here in Blaiddyd. I’ve visited the distillery myself before.” Rufus adored scotch, but would never let Dimitri drink much. 

 The keeper set a small shot glass down in front of Byleth. Dimitri lifted his own as if to demonstrate, and took the tiniest of sips. The caramel liquid had no taste for him, but the burn remained on his throat. 

 Jeralt, on the other hand, shot it straight down. 

 Byleth gasped, “I thought you were supposed to sip!”
  

 “You shoot the first one,” he explained with a cough, “then you sip. And drink yourself some water in between.”

 Byleth shot hers. She coughed, and Dimitri patted her back affectionately. 

 After her coughing ended, Dimitri shot his own.

 What the hell, he thought. What could it hurt?

Thursday

 “I want to die.”

 That was the prince’s explanation for laying face down in bed at 1 p.m. Rufus should understand, he had to understand. The smell of scotch permeated the air, and the King Regent pinched his nose as he stared at his hungover nephew.

 “I guess I can’t blame you,” he was speaking much too loudly for Dimitri’s taste, “you’re getting a pass for your wedding, you know. Otherwise, I’d kick your ass.”

 “I’d like to see you try.”

 He snorted, “Are you still drunk?”

 “No.”

 “When did you get home last night?”

 “Midnight, I think.” Dimitri rolled over in bed, covering his eyes with his forearm to shield himself from the light, “Close that window, please.”

 The maid standing behind Rufus tittered to the window, pulling the great velvet curtains closed and allowing shadows to take the room once more. The prince sighed in relief. 

 Annoyed, Rufus only watched, “Where were you?”

 Another joyous opportunity for dishonesty. Dimitri frowned, “The distillery. Is it a crime for me to want to celebrate my wedding?”

 “Celebrate?”

 “Dread, I mean.” At least that much was honest. 

 “I’m done here,” the Regent sighed and stepped away, the maidservant following him like a puppy at his heels, “Get yourself cleaned up, you smell like sweat.”

 He was sure he did. The air stunk with something disgustingly sweet, mixed with the smell of vinegar. He had no desire to investigate whatever had caused such an aroma. Groaning in disgust as Rufus shut the door behind him, Dimitri was alone to his thoughts once more. 

 “I’m never drinking again,” he announced, “not even for a date.”

 Of course, he would return to the village once again, almost immediately, to find out what he had done when drunk. His memory was fuzzy, and he knew something had happened between him and Byleth. 

 It wouldn’t be anything terrible, as Jeralt would’ve never allowed canoodling of that sort. Yet, there was a nagging feeling that there was something very, very important waiting for him in the village. 

 After a quick bath and new clothes, Dimitri shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun and jogged to the horse stables. 

 The stablemaster only smirked, “You wouldn’t have gotten home if not for your girl here,” he patted his mount’s side, “she’s a smart one.”

 “Yes,” he managed a polite chuckle, “I’ll be relying on her once again, it seems.”

 The worker eyed him as if the gossip mill was turning in front of his face. He wondered what nonsense he’d hear next ‘didn’t you hear? The prince is an alcoholic’ most likely. 

 He assisted in saddling the horse up, and left immediately. As much as his head complained from the bouncing of the ride, he leaned lower onto her mane and shut his eyes closed. He could ignore the pain long enough, and rest in the village after he’d found his answers. 

 Byleth didn’t wait outside as she usually was. He stopped at the inn, tying his horse up and running through it’s doors to find her. The owner sighed when he saw him, “You haven’t paid me yet, kid.”

 Dimitri froze, “Oh, I’m sorry,” glancing around the dining room to make sure Byleth nor Jeralt were not around, he dug into his rucksack to pull a large pouch of gold out, “Will this do?”

 The owner’s eyes were wide, “Y-Yes! That’s perfect!” He swiped the heavy pouch from his hand.

 Dimitri didn’t quite care in that moment, only lowering his voice and leaning in, “Don’t tell anyone that I gave you that, okay? I don’t want people knowing I’ve been carrying that much.”

 “Your secret’s safe with me, buddy,” he laughed, “I get it. Times’re rough. Hopefully, that marriage thing with those royals will help folks like me, and then folks like you can come drink and spend as much as you want.”

 “I don’t know about that. I don’t want a repeat of last night again… What happened, might I ask?”

 He put his hands to his hips in thought, “Oh, nothing much. That older guy broke a table, and got into a fight. Three times.”

 “What did I do?”

 “You mainly just cuddled with your girlfriend all night.”

 Girlfriend. All night. Cuddling. He stiffened, “Where is she?”

 “Upstairs, second room on the left. Been up there all day.”

 It was already the afternoon, and it was the longest Dimitri had ever slept in. Byleth seemed to be having the same type of day, having been in her room until 2 pm. He thanked the innkeeper and made his way up the stairs, following the directions to finally knock on her door with a soft rapt. 

 A quiet, croaking voice called to him through the wall, “Come in.”

 Dimitri peaked inside, “By?”

 She was just a lump under a blanket on the bed. The lump shifted, “Dima?”

 “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

 A foot stuck out from the end of the lump, tapping absently in response, “I’m fine. Splendid, actually.”

 “Are you?”

 “As long as I stay under here, yes.”

 Dimitri wished he could’ve done the same. He closed the door behind him and walked to her bed, taking a seat on the edge and patting her leg. She only squeaked, a cute sound that brought a smile to his face. 

 “Do you remember what happened last night?” He asked, “The owner said that we… uh, cuddled.”

 “We did,” a sigh from the lump, “but that’s all.”

 Relief flooded like a broken dam. The tension in his shoulders released, and he sighed and shut his eyes, “Thank the Goddess.”

 In his relief, he didn’t notice her sudden stillness. Her foot stopped tapping, sliding back under the blanket and becoming very still. She could’ve stopped breathing, and Dimitri wouldn’t have taken notice. 

 Several beats of silence passed. He finally looked at the blanket and patted down the top, touching her head through the covers, “Are you okay, By?”

 “Yes,” a deep sigh, “there’s just one thing.”

 “Hm?”

 “You didn’t kiss me.”

 Another beat of silence. 

 She rustled around, and out popped her head. Static from the wool made her dark hairs stand up in electric attention, and there were bags under her eyes as she stared at him. Even when tired, she was still beautiful.

 Dimitri realized it suddenly. It hit him like a smack to the face. 

 He thought Byleth was an absolutely beautiful woman. 

 He stared. 

 “Dima?”

 He could not stare any longer, for fear of her growing creeped out. Forcing his gaze away, he cleared his throat, “Yes?”

 “Are you not going to acknowledge what I said?”

 “What’d you say?”

 “I said,” she frowned in frustration and sat up, the blankets falling around her waist, “you didn’t kiss me. I don’t mean to critique your style of fake practice romance, but it just would’ve been a good moment to kiss me, is all.”

 Incredulous, he stared at her once more, “When drunk?”

 “Yes, there’s no nervousness or anxiety, and we had so much fun-”

 “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk.”

 He hoped his eyes weren’t betraying him, but he thought he saw the slightest bit of pink dust her cheeks. 

 “I would’ve been okay with it.”

 Dimitri shook his head, “I wouldn’t have. I want my first kiss to be something nice, something that’s not fuzzy. Goddess, I probably would’ve thrown up on you afterwards.”

 “Well… that’s nice of you.”

 Byleth didn’t have the widest range of emotions, but there was enough to betray her disappointment. She avoided his eyes, her lips quirking into a little frown and the blush on her cheeks fading. He felt his heart skip as he watched her. 

 The words came before he could stop, or think, about their consequences, “I can kiss you now.”

 Her eyes were on him in a flash, and she let no time pass before pouncing on the opportunity. “Would you?”

 Would he? Could he? 

 He pat down her hair. The static stuck to his hand, and he laughed as it followed his palm wherever it went. Eventually, he pushed a lock behind her ear, and let his fingers trail down her soft jawline and to her neck. 

 “If you want me to.”

 “For practice,” she reminded softly, “my friend, just practice.”

 He needed the reminder more than her. “Yes, of course. Practice.”

 They both leaned. 

 His nose brushed against hers. His heart skipped. His breath was stolen. 

 Their lips touched, and the world could’ve stopped spinning. Dimitri deepened the kiss, his hand still on the nape of her neck, holding her close as she tilted her head. 

 To steady himself, he flattened his palm against the bed and leaned across her body. She returned the kiss with an arch of her back, and her own hands raising to tangle themselves into his hair. 

 He had not felt so alive. He had never felt so adored, so loved, so absolutely hormonal. She was the universe in that moment, all he could dream to focus on. Her fingers in his hair stroked and scratched and pulled, and he melted into her lips as if he belonged there.

 Yet, he ran out of air and couldn’t breathe. 

 Pulling away, he inhaled greatly and locked eyes with Byleth. She took a deep breath to match his. “Thanks.”

 “No need to thank me,” it was a whisper, for it would’ve been blasphemy to speak any louder and break the moment, “that’s what friends do.”

 “Mmhm,” she nodded, leaning in further with her nose brushing against his, “you’re a very good friend.”

 “So are you,” he spoke against her lips, “Your fiance is a lucky man.”

 Her hands gripped his hair, “Your fiance is the lucky one here. But… we should practice more so we know what we’re doing.”

 “Right,” another chaste kiss, “you’re so right.”

Somehow, Dimitri and Byleth found themselves spending the entire afternoon kissing and cuddling. There were chaste kisses, deep kisses, hot kisses, and even tongue kisses - which were not exactly Dimitri’s favorite, but he gave it a try anyway. 

 Jeralt had only knocked on the door once to ask Byleth if she wanted any food, and Dimitri kept very quiet as Byleth told him no. She promptly locked the door afterwards, and returned to bed. 

 For the sake of being a gentleman, Dimitri didn’t join her under the covers, and only lay on top of the blanket beside her. It was experimentation, and nothing more, and would not turn into anything inappropriate. Nothing past kissing and holding. 

 But how Dimitri adored kissing. He lay beside her, staring at the ceiling. She was cuddled under the blanket with her head resting peacefully on his chest. Her arm was slung over his stomach, and Dimitri felt more at peace than ever. 

 He broke the silence, “If I’m too be honest-”

 “I know, I don’t like the tongue kissing either.”

 “Agreed, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

 “Oh, sorry.”

 He sighed in contentment, “I wonder if this is so enjoyable because it naturally is a wonderful thing, or if it’s just you?”

 She frowned against his chest, “I was thinking the same thing. I don’t really understand how it could change from person to person. Kissing is just… kissing.”

 “You’re right,” he agreed, if only to stay away from the dangerous territory his mind began to enter, “it’s probably the same with every person.”

 She hummed, and twiddled the blanket between her fingers as he lay on him. Silence fell once more, and Dimitri found himself reciting the alphabet to keep the improper thoughts away.

 Improper thoughts such as ‘wouldn’t it be nice if he and Byleth ran away together and ditched their respective weddings?’ 

 Incredibly improper. He frowned. 

 No matter how nice kissing her was, it would never be persuasive enough to make him abandon his country. His marriage to Lady Eisner would be the best thing to happen to Faerghus since cheddar cheese. 

 And kissing Lady Eisner would be just as enjoyable as kissing Byleth. He just couldn’t comprehend it because he’d never kissed anyone else. 

 After another hour of lip locking between the excessive cuddling, evening was beginning to fall outside of her window. Dimitri hadn’t eaten anything all day and his stomach was beginning to complain. 

 “I should probably go,” he spared a glance to the window, noticing the sun setting and turning the world orange, “it’s getting late.”

 He would’ve gotten up, if Byleth wasn’t sitting on his lap, straddling him with her lips on his neck. Her back arched as he ran a hand down her spine, and she giggled into his skin, “You’re not allowed to go.”

 “I have to,” he pulled her closer, “I’ve got dinner with my uncle.”

 She jerked away with wide, playful eyes, “I’m your dinner.”

 “That doesn’t make any sense.”

 Huffing, she returned to peppering a line up his neck. It tingled with pleasure, and he tilted his head to allow her better access. As she reached his ear, she whispered, lips brushing against his skin, “I command that you return tomorrow, if you can, and we’ll practice excessive hand holding.”

 “As you wish, my lady.”

 “In all seriousness, though,” Byleth now pulled away to look him in the eyes with an expression of sincerity, “thank you for this. It’s nice to know, at least. And my husband won’t have to school me on how much to, uh, pucker, and whatnot.”

 “Or how wide to open your mouth,” he chuckled at their practice earlier, which was actually quite silly as the two gave tips of ‘oh that’s too wide’ ‘oh that’s weird’ ‘now it’s not wide enough’. He smiled, “ I should be thanking you as well, this has been very educational.”

 She still straddled him, sitting on his thighs as if she belonged there. “Well, now with the oddly formal goodbyes out of the way, do you mind if I kiss you again?”

 “You don’t have to ask, my friend.”

 “Wonderful.”

 Byleth put her hands on his cheeks so gingerly, so gently. So unlike any forms of affection he had ever experienced, as the affection in his life had been so few and far between. His heart skipped, nearly doing a gymnastics routine in his chest. 

 She leaned in, locking her lips to his. It was unlike how they had been doing for hours, it was soft, loving. And it ended far too early. 

 Upon pulling back, her eyes were wide as she whispered, “Do you think you could climb out of the window?”

 He was dumbfounded, partly from the kiss, partly from her words. “What?”

 “The window,” she nodded towards it as if he didn’t know what a window was, “I don't want my father knowing you were here for so long.”

 “I… understand,” he did, as shocked as he was at the thought, “it’s just kind of funny, you know?”

 “How so?”

 “I’m a 23 year old man, it feels funny to be sneaking out of a woman’s window so her dad doesn’t kick my butt.”

 “Well,” she grimaced, “I’m a 25 year old woman, it feels funny to have a man sneaking out of my window as well. But I promise, he would kick your ass. Hard.”

 “I don’t doubt it.”

 She nodded. He nodded. It was all in agreement. Yet, Byleth would not leave his lap, and would not budge when he nudged her ever so slightly to move. 

 She smirked. Sighing, Dimitri stood up with her legs still wrapped around him. He rested his hands under her thighs as she squeaked in surprise at suddenly being picked up. Carrying her to the window, he deposited her into a wooden chair beside it. 

 She unwrapped herself from him and sat as he opened the glass and peered outside. It was the back of the inn, facing a line of trees he could disappear into. Yet, it was too high to jump safely from. 

 He would have to climb down using the mismatched stones of the building. It would be hard, but worth it to not have to fight Jeralt. Sending Byleth a goodbye smile, and blowing her a teasing kiss, he pushed himself out. 

 Rearranging his body so he held onto the ledge, facing the building now, he found a good foothold and began to climb down as Byleth leaned out of the window. 

 “Be careful,” she called, “don’t break your tailbone!”

 “Oh, goodness, my tailbone,” he drawled, voice strained as he lowered himself onto another foothold, “can’t have that.”

 “I really enjoyed tonight.”

 Again, his voice was strained, “I-I did too, By.”

 “Tomorrow?”

 His hand slipped, and he barely found another brick sticking out in time to catch himself. He now clung to the wall like a shocked cat, breathing heavily. 

 Byleth winced, “I’ll just, uh, let you focus.”

 “Thank you,” Dimitri managed, taking a deep, level breath, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yes.”

 “Goodnight,” her smile was enough reward for his trouble, making the stinging of his fingertips numb as happiness and expectation filled his mind instead. 

 She returned to her room, and shut the window, but watched as her dear new friend made his way down the rest of the wall, finally feeling solid ground beneath his feet once more. Byleth sent him a wave, and he tiredly returned it.

 Inside the tavern, an eruption of cheers reached his ears. He glanced through a lower window into the dining room, and spotted Jeralt punching down the same man he fought yesterday. In one hand he held a sloshing, frothing beer, and took a large chug before sending a kick to the man’s side. The crowd screamed and cheered in drunken joy. 

 That was a relief to Dimitri. If Jeralt was as drunk as he was yesterday, he wouldn’t recall ever seeing Dimitri’s familiar horse tied up front, or hearing from the innkeeper that he’d visited Byleth. There was even less of a chance that he’d kick his ass, and that was a comfort. 

 Dimitri gathered his horse, smiling from ear to ear. 

 It was the best night of the week so far, and obviously the most educational. His head was in the clouds with thoughts of Byleth’s skin under his fingers as he rode back to Fhirdiad. 

Friday

 With the wedding only two quick days away, Dimitri’s level of busy-ness only increased, and he could not make his way to the village until night had fallen. 

 Dedue was the only one aware of the prince’s sneaking out, and was sworn to secrecy. His friend had looked at him with a stony expression upon being told where he was going, yet said nothing when Dimitri left that night. Rufus had already turned in for the evening, and Dimitri snuck past the guards in his disguise with no problems. 

 Getting to the village was easy enough, only an hour’s ride until he was standing outside of Byleth’s window. The tavern was filled with laughter and warmth, yet Dimitri would take a chance on a very old fashioned method.

 He found a small rock, and threw it at the glass. A candle shimmered inside the room, giving him hope that she was there. 

 Another pebble throw. His crest desperately wanted to take over, but the rock would’ve shattered the glass and probably given her a heart attack. He held his strength back as he tossed another. 

 Finally, Byleth appeared. 

 She was confused as she opened it and leaned out to see Dimitri standing on the ground, waiting for her. “I didn’t think you were coming today.”

 “I got busy at work,” he explained in a hushed tone, “I’m sorry to be so late.”

 “I hope you’re not too overworked to hold a dear lady’s hand tonight.”

 His heart jumped. “Never.”

 She smiled wickedly. Dimitri didn’t expect her to put one foot on the window sill, and pull herself out of the room with ease. She much more conveniently could’ve just gone down the stairs and met him outside, but she instead looked down at him from her perch. “Ready?”

 “Ready for… what?”

 Without an answer, Byleth jumped. Dimitri had his arms out immediately, stepping forward to wrap them around her waist as she fell onto him. It was just barely that he resisted the urge to stumble onto his bottom. He’d always had a good center of gravity, nearly immovable in battle, and Byleth was light enough in his arms for him to catch her.

 Dimitri held her tightly, her feet off the ground and no room left between their bodies. Her arms snaked around his neck, “Good catch.”

 It was quite the good catch. Delighted, he refused to let her go, instead picking her up even more and twirling her around. She buried her face into his shoulder as the air picked up her feet, and he stumbled dizzily. 

 Now, with the world excessively spinning, Dimitri stopped and set her down. She stumbled back, but held onto his arm as a life line as she shut her eyes.

 “You have no choice but to hold my hand now, I fear I’ll trip if you don’t.”

 Concern piqued in him, and he put both hands on her waist to steady her, “Did I spin you too hard? My strength gets the better of me sometimes, I apologize.”

 She placed a reassuring hand on his chest, “It’s no problem. Just keep me close so I don’t tumble.”

 He’d keep her close even without the threat of tumbling. Leaning in, he pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her head. Her hair was soft under his lips, and waist warm beneath his fingers. “That won’t be too difficult.”

 Byleth was hungry as she tangled her fingers into his hair once again and yanked him to her level, lips meeting his and bodies pressing against each other. His hands rested on her lower back, and her other hand stroked up his arm, and to his neck. 

 Kissing was still very, very nice. 

 The two pulled apart with a huff, foreheads resting against each other. Dimitri smiled tiredly, “Would you like to go on another practice date with me?”

 “To practice cuddling and kissing?”

 “Yes. Practice makes perfect, you know.”

 Another peck from her, another grip onto his hair as she leaned up and caught his lips. He had to tear himself away simply for them to get anywhere. 

 “Come on,” he took her hand, which fit in his own so wonderfully, and began walking down a dirt path in the woods. Many from Fhirdiad would come out that way to hike, but the trails would be completely empty at night. 

 It was dark, but the moon was full enough to provide enough light. Dimitri could barely see Byleth, yet her hand against his was a constant reassurance. They entered the hiking trail, and walked slowly so as to not trip. 

 Byleth stuck close, her arm eventually snaking around to link with his. She sent him a smile that was barely visible in the dark, “I feel I know nothing of what you do when you’re not here.”

 And she would never know anything! Unless she happened to see him during his wedding on Sunday, and then she’d most likely hate him for lying to her so terribly. “Isn’t it better that way?”

 “Yes,” she sighed, grimacing, “we should tell each other as little as possible, I suppose.”

 Playful, he chuckled, “What’s your favorite color, at least?”

 “Blue. Yours?”

 “I don’t have one.”

 “Everybody has a favorite color.”

 He shrugged, “You pick for me, then.”

 “I pick blue, we’ll have the same favorite,” she offered a subtle smile. 

 Dimitri couldn’t see her well, but he could hear the joy in her tone. She lay her head on his shoulder and gave a contented sigh. 

 He supposed that blue was a nice color. His eyes were blue, Faerghus’s national color was blue. He wore it quite often, and was told that he looked nice in it. Yet, blue didn’t sit very well with him. The thought wasn’t satisfying enough, and he had no choice but to argue. 

 “I take it back, you can’t choose for me.”

 She protested, “You said I could.”

 “I just realized that I do have a favorite.”

 “What is it?”

 “Iris.”

 “Like the flower? Isn’t that just purple?”

 “This specific shade of purple,” he spoke playfully, with a fakely dreamy tone in his voice as he walked arm in arm, her head still resting on him, “Iris’s like to sprout around the start of spring, we have some purple ones growing outside of my window. It’s light, but not violet. It’s just dark enough to be sort of blue, almost, but not quite.”

 “That’s a very specific color.”

 Dimitri wondered if he should tell her. Would it have been too forward, and simply too ironic to say right after them both deciding to not get to know each other deeply? 

 That specific shade was the color of her eyes. The purple irises growing in the castle courtyard had already withered for the year, but her eyes reminded him of their petals. He found himself dwelling on the color, living in it. 

 He decided to keep the questions going. It was something simple, nothing too deep or incriminating, but enough to satisfy his curiosity. “What’s your favorite book?”

 She hummed in thought before answering, “I’ve only ever read scripture, to be honest.”

 He paused, “Only scripture?”

 “Not that I wanted to, but Lady Rhea insisted.”

 “That’s… sad.” 

 To have lady Rhea dictating what a resident of the Monastery read was odd, certainly. It was nothing he’d ever heard of before, but he supposed that being a student was much different than living full time there. Byleth only shrugged as if she was used to it, “I know, but I never really cultivated a love for reading. Do you have a favorite?”

 “I used to read a lot as a child, I never have time anymore it seems.”

 “What did you like as a child?”

 “Fantasy, or adventure,” he smiled nostalgically, “I would read a lot of epic poetry about Loog.”

 Softly, as if Byleth was afraid he would disappear any moment now, she drew closer to him. They walked very slowly through the darkness, and the cicadas around them chirped with a reminiscent sound. Dimitri relished in the feeling of her skin on his. 

 “Tell me about the books you’ve read,” she asked in a quiet voice, “I’d like to hear about Loog.”

 "Well, he was..." very nearly a book character in his mind, rather than great King of old and his ancestor, "kind. And very powerful."

 "Like you."

 He chuckled in surprise, "I don't think that's quite right."

 Byleth took the lead in walking. She slipped her fingers down his arm to tangle with his and pulled him along. She was not even from this part of Faerghus, yet seemed to know the surroundings better than it's future King. "There's a little clearing around here," he heard her mutter, "with a nice log we can sit on."

 A log, with moss, and most likely spiders. How romantic. Yet, Dimitri let himself be led through the thicket. Eventually, she seemed to find her mysterious log in the darkness, patting it's bark with a flat hand and humming in her throat. Dimitri watched, his eyes adjusting to the grey of night, "Is this what you do when I'm not here?"

 "Hm?"

 "Explore?"

 "I suppose," he made out a shrug of her shoulders in the dark as she turned to sit on the log, "I've found some of my best fishing spots during exploration."

 "You'll have to take me fishing soon."

 She patted the spot next to her with a quirk of her lips, "Only if you tell me more about books and Loog."

 "What to tell, even..." his racked his mind as he sat and rested his chin in his palm. The air smelled fresh, clean and crisp. As the wind bit through his jacket, he was reminded of camping with his father when young, and Lambert would stay up late to read of Loog's adventures to him. That was moreso the memory he treasured, rather than the story itself. "It was just a good story, I suppose. About justice, and war, about laws and victory."

 "I suppose you're quite the righteous type."

 He shrugged, "I don't know, honestly."

 "What do you do for work, Dima?"

 He had been prepared for this question. Smiling, he snorted, "Paperwork."

 "What kind?"

 "The kind that gives papercuts."

 "I bet you're a judge in the high court," she teased with a small push against his arm, "you look down on people and doom them to eternal dungeon-hood!"

 "The castle doesn't have a dungeon."

 "Oh?"

 He had gotten rid of the dungeon at the age of 20, when Rufus had locked up 12 drunken men in there for a week simultaneously. The smell was too much to bear, and a pile of old bones resting in the corner made Dimitri's stomach hurt. It was one of the few royal decrees he'd ever gotten to carry through with. Yet, to save face in front of Byleth, he straightened up, "So I've heard."

 "How nice... So what do you really do?"

 "What do you do?"

 She frowned, "I asked you first."

 "But I'm so very curious, my friend. Answer me, and I'll answer you."

 He had meditated and prepared on how to evade properly, a game that was often played in the royal court. He wasn't the best at it, but could play well enough to save his skin if needed. Byleth backed away from her questioning and contented herself by leaning on his arm once more, "Fine. Let's just avoid those kinds of questions. It's best to not go there anyway."

 She was correct, as always. Yet, another question prodded at the front of his mind. While quite personal, it shouldn't be too deep. "We never spoke again about why you covered your mouth so much before. I noticed that you've stopped."

 Again, she frowned, then sighed, "Well, I got the feeling you didn't judge me."

 "What's there to judge?"

 "My smile is kind of creepy, isn't it?"

 Preposterous. He sat up straight, hand resting on her lower back as he looked down at her. She pulled away from his arm to return the look, and he lifted her chin. Her skin, as always, was soft under his fingers. His thumb brushed against her lips, "I love this smile."

 The lips quirked up into a smirk, "It's still creepy."

 A whisper, so the moment wouldn't shatter. "It's the loveliest smile I've ever seen."

 "You should save those lines for your fiance."

 It was now his turn to smirk, "I'm practicing."

 Saturday

 Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd’s last day of freedom had arrived. 

 “Lady Eisner will be here tomorrow, and hopefully she’ll arrive early enough in the day for you two to meet,” Rufus sounded bored as he looked at his list of to-dos, striking out words and filling in spaces, “wouldn’t that be nice?”

 Dimitri felt just as uninterested. “Yes. It would be fine.”

 “Do you… even remember her name?”

 Of course he did! “Lady Eisner.”

 “Her first name?”

 He blinked, saying the first thing that came to his mind. “Bianca?”

 Rufus blanched, turning pale, “I was hoping you remembered. I forgot too…”

 “You… forgot the name of the future Queen of Faerghus?”

 He huffed, setting his quill down into the inkwell and tilting his head to send his nephew an incredulous glare, “You did too!”

 “Don’t you have the letters from the church talking about her?”

 “I burn everything after I read it, you know that.”

 No, Dimitri did not know that. It would explain why he could never find anything of use in his Uncle’s files. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head, “Whatever. We’ll just wait for the priest to say it. Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s Bianca, or Beth, or something.”

 “Let’s hope you’re right...” Rufus muttered, returning to his checklist and instantly moving on to the next item of discussion, “Okay, so, we’ve got your suit. And the chapel is all set up… I suppose now we just have to get through this damn rehearsal dinner, and you’re all set.”

 “Wonderful.” Dimitri’s tone dripped with sarcasm, something he had become more accustomed to using after several quick lessons from Jeralt during his visits. Rufus only raised a brow at the newfound display from his usually polite nephew. 

 In all, Dimitri was not happy. 

 He supposed that one would usually be ecstatic the day before one’s wedding, yet all he could think about was that this was his last day with Byleth. 

 And no, they couldn’t run away together. 

 And no, she had no feelings for him, it was all just practice. 

 No matter how tender their touches, no matter how much they kissed, and no matter the late night conversations they had, there were no feelings involved. It had only been a week that he had known her, but he wanted more. 

 He wanted the chance to fall in love with her. He wanted the time to do so, for it to be a choice that he could make himself. 

 And here fate was, not giving him even an ounce of hope. He would be married tomorrow, and it would not be to Byleth. In fact, he would not ever see her again after tonight, and the thought made his heart ache painfully. 

 Rufus had taken notice of his nephew’s sour mood, yet said nothing. He never said anything, never sought out the emotional types of conversations. Dimitri was going to be Dimitri, and Rufus was going to ignore it as best he could. He cleared his throat and returned to his checklist, “Make sure you don’t run off tonight. This dinner is very important.”

 It was important, and he knew that, yet he found himself not caring. All of his dear friends would be there, but also the rest of the noble houses of Faerghus - and Dimitri had no energy for their niceties. 

 “I’ll try my best,” and he meant it genuinely, “I know I’ve got to just face it. This is happening whether I like it or not.”

 Rufus always avoided deep conversations if he could. With a grimace, he clasped his hands and stood, “Okay, great. Well,” he walked around the desk to wrap an arm around Dimitri’s shoulders and lead him out of the room, “now that that’s all settled. Go, uh, take a nap or something.”

 He did look quite tired. He had come back late to the castle that night, later than usual. He and Byleth spent the night in the woods, holding each other until she nearly fell asleep on the ground. 

 Dimitri complied and left Rufus’s office just as his uncle wished. It was time to be realistic, to stop his anger and desire over something that would not be avoided. 

 It was several hours before the rehearsal dinner would begin, and Dimitri had enough time to go to the village. He feigned tiredness, going to his room and slipping out several minutes later when no servants lingered around. 

 The stable master asked no questions when he took his horse for the last time that week. Dimitri supposed that he looked too angry to be spoken to, and he truly felt that way.

 Byleth was unsuspecting as she awaited his arrival. She sat on the front porch of the inn, as per usual, twirling a flower around her fingers absently. 

 The sound of his horse approaching stole her attention, and she lit up like a summer’s day upon seeing him. His anger began to dissolve, melting into something much more complicated. She stood to greet him as he halted his mount in front of her. 

 “Good afternoon, kind sir,” her tone was playful, “how do you do this morning?”

 “Not well,” he slid from his horse, “but I’m better now.”

 “That’s cheesy.”

 “Apologies,” he offered a bashful smile as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, “I can’t help it.”

 Byleth resisted the urge to kiss him, only smiling and glancing over her shoulder, “My father is inside, we should be careful.”

 Of course. Even though practicing, Jeralt still would not appreciate a man defiling his daughter. Especially since she was engaged to be wed soon. Dimitri only smiled tiredly, “I really just need a hug.”

 So, a hug she gave. She wrapped her arms around him and lay her head against his chest. Dimitri sighed as he melted into her arms, thanking the Goddess for giving him a friend who fit so wonderfully against him. 

 Byleth turned her head so her cheek was against his chest, “Are you okay?”

 “My fiance is arriving soon,” he would give no specific details, but just enough to explain his eventual disappearance, “I’m afraid this is the last time I’ll get to see you.”

 Byleth was unsurprised, and Dimitri didn’t know what he quite expected from her. She was never the type to be caught off guard. Pulling away, she looked up at him with a furrowed brow, “I understand. We knew this would happen.”

 It was not a lie. Yet, he had somehow managed to forget that.

 “Yes,” he grimaced, “it’s just rather frustrating.”

 She pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear, “Don’t be frustrated. Now we can go into our respective marriages knowing what romance is like. Now you know that telling puns isn’t the right thing to do while making out.”

 He smiled, “And now you know that tongue kissing isn’t romantic.”

 “We’re both very well practiced now,” she nodded seriously, “I don’t feel as nervous anymore.”

 Neither did he, though the nervousness had been replaced with something much worse. 

 He had to say it. He had to tell her, and what was there to lose? They wouldn’t see each other again, she’d probably find out his identity and feel betrayed, and he would never get a chance like this again. 

 Dimitri looked her in the eyes, taking a deep breath as he readied himself. 

 “I wish I was given the chance to fall in love with you.”

 Byleth smiled, soaking in his words. “I wish that too. I’m sorry.”

 “It’s okay,” it was not, but he would have to accept it no matter what, “we had this, at least.”

 “Thanks for being my practice partner.”

 “Thank you for being mine.”

 “I guess you have to go back now, huh?”

 Dimitri glanced at the sky. It wasn’t dark yet, but with Fhirdiad being so far away he didn’t have much time left. He only nodded. 

 Byleth accepted it with grace. “I hope the man I marry is someone like you.”

 His hand brushed against her cheek, “I’ve been hoping the same thing for myself, actually. I hope she’s patient, like you are, and kind.”

 It was the moment. The moment he would leave Byleth behind, never to see her again. Standing in front of the inn, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You have the chance to fall in love with her, I hope you take it.”

 “I won’t forget you.”

 “Please do forget me,” she chuckled, “I’m going to try to forget you.”

 Bashful, he smiled, “I guess that would be for the best, huh?”

 “Yes.” With that, she kissed his other cheek, and stepped away.

 Dimitri watched as she turned, keeping his eyes glued to her back while she walked up the steps and towards the door of the inn. His heart ached, but he was satisfied. 

 Sometimes, life did not allow for chances. No matter how much he wished for the time, it was unrealistic, and Faerghus needed a realistic King. 

 Byleth didn’t look at him as she opened the door and stepped inside. With the click of the door closing, she was gone. 

 She was out of his life forever. 

 Dimitri got back on his horse and began his ride back to Fhirdiad. He was ready, prepared, and going to do the rehearsal dinner with his friends. 

 He would act like nothing was wrong, and he would do as Byleth requested - he would forget her. 

 Because he was getting married tomorrow. He had no choice but to forget her.