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It was during the quiet moments when it became the hardest to hide.
In the heat of battle, Dimitri could disguise his protectiveness of Byleth as the same care he showed for all the members of his army, both as their commander and their future king. If he tended to jump in front of stray arrows headed her way, or if his voice broke with concern as he called to her across the battlefield, to the untrained eye, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
But when she would shake her hair out of her ponytail after their sparring sessions, or indulge in a rare laugh at one of Alois' jokes, or softly address him by his first name when no one was around, he would sometimes struggle just to stay on his feet.
The tiny rainbows the sunlight through the stained glass of the monastery windows would cast in the sea-green of her eyes, and how they danced when she smiled in her peculiar, intimate way just for him. The way she could rescue him from the mire of his thoughts with nothing more than a gentle touch to his hand or shoulder, and how he would subsequently find himself resenting the necessity of wearing full armor rather than needing to hide underneath it. The unassuming yet firm manner in which she would come to his defense during war councils, as if standing by his side came as naturally as breathing.
Dimitri's piety to the Goddess came down to little more than royal duty, but if Byleth asked, he would pray to his beloved every night like a blasphemer to a distant star.
He had fallen for her during his days at the academy, could hardly so much as look at her without his heart fluttering in his chest, could scarcely sleep at night while his mind swam with her eyes, her hands, her lips. Despite his best efforts to conceal it, that much had been certain to everyone except Byleth herself—he could barely handle himself in her presence without acting the fool, after all, much to Sylvain's amusement and Felix's vexation. In that respect, some things might not have changed.
But this was different. The Dimitri of six years ago had needed her, wanted her, adored her, but now, he loved, Goddess, he loved her, selfishly, selflessly, all-consumingly, despite himself. This was manifest. It left his head spinning and his chest aching, terrified him as much as it vindicated him. He had tried to cast it off, desperately fought against himself for daring to imagine a future beyond his revenge. Night after night, the voices would scream at him that his ledger ran too red to ever be worthy of her love.
And yet, ever since that night in the rain, he felt the absence of her small, warm hand in his so constantly, so keenly it almost hurt to look at her.
He craved her company, sought it as much as he could without imposing upon her, but part of him was still terrified he would break her. She was anything but delicate, was one of the few who could actually match him in combat, but processing and expressing emotions was still relatively new for her, and Dimitri was only beginning to wake from his five-year slumber himself. Still, he was neither strong enough nor good enough to resist the allure of her companionship when she offered it.
Byleth was the moon and Dimitri the hapless tide she pulled. Before he met her, his story began and ended only with hunting down and punishing the ones who had destroyed everything he held dear. But now, he had her to thank for giving him a purpose for the rest of his life—becoming a man deserving of the warmth she gave.
-
Dimitri woke with a start. The world came to a screeching stop for a second before his old dormitory room slowly materialized in hazy blotches before his vision. He jerked up, breath coming in trembling gasps as he wiped away the tears pooling at the corner of his good eye. Nine long years and the nightmares had never felt more real.
Minutes passed and the full weight of who and where he was gradually began to settle upon him. Like a puppet coming off its strings, he started to regain feeling in his limbs. Eventually, he mustered the strength to peel the bedclothes off from where the sweat had stuck them to his skin and bring himself unsteadily to his feet.
This had become somewhat of a morning ritual for Dimitri. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken after the sun rose. As the years passed, he had even found ways to capitalize on it. During his days in Fhirdiad, it had always benefitted him to fit in some morning training or get a head start on paperwork before the day began. And while he was living as a wild beast, he found there was hardly ever a more effective time to...hunt his quarry.
Shame gripped his heart as he remembered the darkest years of his life. He had told the professor once that he could never trust someone who felt nothing as they cut down their foes. And yet, when he fancied his hands as altars to the restless dead, desperately soaked them with Imperial blood until he could hardly stomach the stench of himself, what exactly did he feel? Had he forgotten that locket of golden hair he had found amid the corpses of his first battle all those years ago? In his fruitless quest for revenge, how many seeds of vengeance had he senselessly sown by his own folly?
And how could she have seen him like that, reached out her hand when it should have been the point of her blade, and stood by his side through it all, like he deserved it—like he deserved her?
The stars had only just begun to fade from the sky when a soft knock at the door pulled Dimitri from his thoughts. His hand went instinctively to his dagger as he crossed to open it, but dropped limply from the hilt when the object of his preoccupation greeted him at the other side, lithe forearms exposed without her gauntlets and hair wind-whipped from the morning chill.
To him, no one had ever looked more beautiful.
"Professor," he greeted, smiling despite everything.
"Dimitri," she replied simply, and he nearly shuddered at the intimacy of it. When her eyes flicked down to his partially-exposed chest, though, red flooded his cheeks as he suddenly recalled that he was wearing only his work shirt and trousers.
"My deepest apologies, Professor," he blurted out, clutching his shirt collar closed with one hand and grabbing the doorknob with the other. "How inappropriate for me to appear before you in this way. Please, give me a moment to make myself presentable."
She caught the door before he could shut it. "Dimitri," she reassured him. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."
And although every instinct of the royal propriety that had been beaten into him since childhood should have screamed otherwise, the quiet amusement glinting in her eyes left him, as always, with absolutely no will of his own.
"I suppose you're right," he acquiesced, stepping back into the door frame. "Well. To what do I owe the pleasure, Professor?"
Byleth paused before casting her eyes downward and curling her fingers into her cloak, a gesture uncharacteristic to her usual bold and commanding deportment.
"There's been a lot on my mind lately," she began haltingly. "I've hardly been able to sleep with the march on Enbarr drawing so near. I keep having...the strangest dreams."
Dimitri swallowed. "I know the feeling."
"I thought you would," she said, meeting his eye once more. "That's why I came to find you."
"I see," he said slowly, fighting to conceal his disbelief. She trusted him, had just confided in him, wanted to spend time with him. "I'm glad. Not—glad that you're troubled, or that you couldn't sleep, just..." He broke off, sighing at his inarticulateness. "Just that you felt like you could turn to me."
He half-hesitated, wondering if what he wanted to say next was too presumptuous, but, in his usual fashion, his heart moved faster than his mind. "If there is absolutely anything I can do to alleviate your burdens, or at the very least share them, please just let me know."
Byleth froze for a second before her lips curved subtly upward in appreciation, the action washing over Dimitri like the first morning after a sunless winter. "Then, would you want to join me for a ride this morning? I would love to get some fresh air before the war council."
Dimitri's "yes" slipped out before he could force himself to do the right thing. He had no choice in the matter. Not when she looked at him like that.
"Good," she said, visibly relaxing at his answer. "When can you leave?"
"Right away, if that is acceptable to you. Allow me to walk you to the stable," he said, his voice betraying his eagerness.
Byleth tilted her head to the side. "Shouldn't you put your cloak and boots on first?"
"Ah!" Dimitri's eye widened. "Wait here for a moment. I'll be out presently." He gave a sheepish smile before hastily closing the door, pausing before bringing a hand to his forehead.
Ever playing the fool, he chastised himself.
-
"Where to, Professor?" Dimitri asked as they led their horses down past the entrance of the monastery and into the blue morning.
"I have somewhere in mind," Byleth replied. "I think you'll like it."
"Full of surprises as ever, my friend." It wasn't the first time he had used the term of endearment, but warmth rushed to his face nonetheless.
"Unless you have your heart set on somewhere?" she asked as she mounted her steed.
"I can't think of anywhere I wouldn't follow you," he told her quietly as he did the same.
For an instant he worried that he'd been too candid, but the pleased, almost mischievous look she gave him in response washed his doubts away.
"Well, then," she said, slightly crinkling her eyes and quirking her lips in what Dimitri recognized as her version of a playful smirk, "let's see if you can keep up."
Without warning, she brought her horse to a gallop, kicking up small puddles of dew where its hooves met the mist-soaked grass.
Dimitri balked. "Professor! I still don't know where we're going!" he called to her as he urged his own mount to follow suit.
"You're just going to have to take care not to get left behind, then!" she shouted back, green hair melting into a blur as she streaked into the distance.
Before he even knew he was doing it, Dimitri was laughing wildly into the wind as they hurtled across the field, the kind of full-bodied, genuine laugh he couldn't remember indulging in since he was a child. And perhaps it was his imagination, or simply the echo of his own, but he could've sworn he heard Byleth doing the same.
After several exhilarating minutes, Byleth brought her horse down to a canter at the mouth of a forest. Dimitri took the opportunity to ride up alongside her.
"You never fail to put me through my paces," he admitted, smiling to himself through labored breaths. "It's been a while since I've felt that...free. You have a good steed there."
Byleth rubbed her horse's ears affectionately. "His name is Mesrour. Marianne introduced us. He looks just like my father's old horse, the one he taught me to ride with." Her eyes grew a bit distant as she gently tangled her fingers in its mane. "I didn't exactly have friends growing up, because...well. But animals I always got along with. They tend to cut the small talk."
Dimitri nodded. "He's beautiful. I'm glad that he stirs such fond memories."
"Hmm." She patted it tenderly on its neck. "So is yours. Consider me impressed."
"Yes. She's been with me the longest so far during the war. I've never known a horse to be such a force of nature on the battlefield yet so graceful, even gentle off of it. In that sense…you two are not altogether dissimilar."
Byleth raised an eyebrow. "Are you calling me a horse, Dimitri?"
Dimitri snapped his head toward her. "That is not what I meant at all!" The reflexive apology died on the tip of his tongue once he saw her stifling laughter. "I—you were toying with me."
"Sorry," she said, with a light, self-satisfied chuckle. "I had to get back at you for that little joke you pulled on me at the Goddess Tower somehow."
Dimitri groaned at the memory. "As I said before, I'm—" Realization dawned on him once more. "Again. You did it again."
Byleth's eyes sparkled, and even in his embarrassment he couldn't help but beam along with her. "And you fell for it again."
"Heh. I know when I am bested," Dimitri admitted good-heartedly. "Where were we?"
"Singing your steed's praises," Byleth replied. "What's her name?"
Dimitri cast his eye on the ground. "Ah. I tend not to name my horses, to ease the pain when we...part." He paused for a moment. "But, if we were in times of peace, I might have named her...Byleth."
Byleth gave a small gasp at the use of her name, only to devolve into a fit of ringing, earnest laughter that threatened to knock Dimitri right off his mount.
"First you compare me to your horse, then you hypothetically name her after me? You are ridiculous, Dimitri," she exclaimed through her mirth, fighting for air between the words.
"Yes—well. More than you know, my friend," he allowed himself to concede, his own laughter discrediting any half-hearted protest he could have come up with.
The two settled into a comfortable quiet for a few minutes, during which Dimitri could only try his best not to stare. She looked at home among the trees, just as much as she did vanguarding his troops or orating a war council, but in a different way, one that was distinctly alive. He had often wondered at her connection to the eternal—she wielded the power of the Goddess herself, after all, had cut the very sky open to return to him—but looking at her now, he'd never seen anyone more...real. Funny how even her mortality was divine. It made him new, vulnerable in ways he never thought he could be. For a fleeting moment, the future king and his chief commander did not exist. Dimitri and Byleth were simply a man and a woman sheltering each other in the waning moonlight from the day that was about to begin.
"You know, I think that was the first time you've called me by my real name," Byleth mused softly.
"Is that so?" Dimitri said, unsure whether or not to regret the breach in etiquette. "I'm truly sorry if I overstepped."
"No," she replied, a bit too quickly. "No. I...liked it, actually."
"Oh," he said, not quite knowing how to respond.
"It's funny, in a way. I haven't been your professor for so long, but it's still all anyone calls me. I wonder why that is."
"Perhaps because most of them likely still see you that way,” he said. “In those days, you were our rock, our pillar of guidance through everything. When we lost you, it was like everyone lost a part of themselves." Him most of all, he thought, darkening a bit at the memory. "And then, once you returned to us, it was like time had simply stopped for you. Everyone had almost lost all hope for the war, and there you were, looking not a day older than when we'd parted, come back to save us all. Even in my...condition, I felt much the same."
She met his eye, and, for once, he didn't feel the compulsion to look away. "That is to say. With all the chaos around us, I can only sympathize with anyone who wishes to retain a fragment of those happier times," he finished.
"I think I understand," she said, training her gaze back on the path ahead. "And you?"
"Me?" he asked, caught off-guard by the question.
"Do you still think of me that way?"
"I—" he paused for a second, trying to gauge the proper amount of honesty for his response. "In a way, yes. Ever since I came to trust you all those years ago, I've relied on you far more than I deserve." He furrowed his brow as he scrambled for the right words. "I fear I could spend a lifetime attempting to reciprocate the favor and still only prove a fraction as meaningful. But, as of late, for all my gratitude towards your support…the desire to return it still overwhelms me. In that sense, you are less the professor to me and more simply...Byleth."
"Simply Byleth," she repeated slowly into the air, as if learning the sound of her name for the first time. "Thank you, Dimitri. That means more to me than you know." She turned to him, giving him a genuine smile that warmed Dimitri from the inside out like he'd swallowed a star. "I suspect you may be farther along to your goal than you think."
Before he could puzzle out the meaning of her words, Byleth slowed her horse to a stop. "We're here."
They had arrived at the edge of a clearing with a small waterfall that pooled into a crystal-clear pond bordered by weeping willow trees. Tiny clusters of pink and white blossoms glistening with morning dew carpeted the ground like finely jeweled lace. The sunrise had only just begun to paint the clouds above, dappling everything in muted tones of purple, blue, and gold.
Dimitri went completely still as he took in the sight. "I'm...speechless. I had no idea there was a place of such beauty so close to the monastery."
"My father showed it to me," Byleth said as she dismounted. "He said it was my mother's favorite place. Originally he wanted to have her buried here, but that would have meant telling the church about their secret spot."
Dimitri gave a small start. "Then are you sure it's all right that I—"
Byleth shook her head. "I'm positive. Taking you here...it's what they both would have wanted, I'm sure of it."
Without giving him a chance to ask her what she meant, she extended his arm to assist him off of his horse. Though a little flustered at the gesture, Dimitri accepted, wobbling a bit as he tried to avoid stepping on the blossoms.
"These flowers are lovely. I'm terribly afraid I'll crush them."
Byleth simply smiled. "Valerian," she said. "Her favorite as well. As long as you try your best…I'm sure she wouldn’t mind."
"Professor," he said softly. “Words cannot express how honored I am that you would share something so precious with me." A peculiar light entered his eye. "I wonder, would you indulge me for a moment?"
Byleth looked up at him, curious. "Go ahead."
Dimitri removed his gauntlets and placed them in his saddle bag before bending down and tentatively reaching out to pluck one of the flowers. The sight of the hulking crown prince hesitating to close his fingers around the stem would have been comical if it wasn't so painfully tender. After securing it in his hand, he cautiously drew back up to his full height.
"May I?"
It was Byleth's turn to be flustered as she gave a wordless nod. Carefully yet swiftly, so as to accomplish his intent before his nerves could take over, he reached up under her hair and tucked it behind her ear.
Byleth brought her hand up and gingerly brushed her fingers against the petals as Dimitri stepped back. Looking at her now, the white of the flower against the green of her hair made it difficult not to imagine her in the archbishop's regalia. With Rhea's whereabouts so uncertain, there was a heavy chance Byleth would be forced to take up the mantle of the church in her stead, and be wrested from Faerghus—and his side—indefinitely. An indescribable feeling settled like a cold weight deep in his stomach at the thought. But, for now...
"It suits you," he said gently.
A moment passed wordlessly between them.
"So this is how it feels," she said almost to herself, still half-cupping the blossom with her hand.
"Professor?"
"I've given so many flowers since I met everyone, but I only just noticed that this is my first time receiving one."
"Ah." Dimitri said, once again at a loss for words.
"It's...nice. I feel...nice. Thank you, Dimitri," she said, meeting his gaze as her hand drifted back down to her side. "I love it."
"I see. I'm glad to hear that...Byleth," he said, still not quite used to the feel of her name on his lips.
Something unreadable passed over her face. "Do you think you could do that one more time?"
Dimitri couldn't help but remember the time he made a similar request of her, when he saw her smile for the first time.
"Byleth," he said tentatively, suddenly a little embarrassed, though if she could tell, she didn't point it out.
"Dimitri," she replied, and it felt so natural, so right that he had to forcibly refrain from crushing her into his arms right then and there. "Would you sit with me for a while?"
-
After finding a spot big enough for the two of them to sit without disturbing the flowers, Dimitri lay down his cloak in the grass and they settled down by the pond. Time passed fluidly as they spoke leisurely of everything and nothing. When Byleth caught her reflection in the water at one point, though, Dimitri didn't miss the sharp intake of breath she gave.
"Profe—Byleth?" he asked. "Is everything all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, though the crease in her brow said otherwise. "For a second...I just thought I saw Rhea."
Hearing his previous thoughts given voice, Dimitri avoided her gaze. "I admit to thinking the same thing."
"If we don't find her in Enbarr—if the worst has happened, or even if it hasn't and she's somehow no longer fit for leadership..." Byleth's eyes grew distant. "We had some exchanges, especially after I received Sothis' power, where it felt like she was singling me out to inherit her title."
"Might I...ask your feelings on the matter?" he asked hesitantly.
Byleth pressed her palm into the ground, her tone taking on a certain fire he was only used to hearing in a warzone. "I want no part of it. I didn't grow up with the Seiros faith, I didn't even know the Goddess had a name. I hate the thought of my life being dictated for me and I hate the thought of being away from you."
Dimitri gasped softly at the admission, Byleth's own eyes rounding as if she couldn't believe she'd just said it herself.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, rising to her knees. "I...forgot my station. It won't happen again."
"No!" Dimitri's blood went cold as he heard her voice turning back to stone. He hadn't heard her use that cadence for years, and it frightened him more than anything he'd ever faced on the battlefield.
Only when her gaze dropped downward did he realize that he had grabbed her hand in his panic to make her stay, his fingers easily encircling her thin wrist.
"Forgive my brutishness," he said quickly, releasing the contact. It didn't seem like he'd hurt her, but knowing him, he’d probably come alarmingly close. Revulsion burned in his chest at the thought. "But I must reassure you, such formalities have never mattered less to me."
The bewilderment on Byleth's face struck Dimitri with overwhelming disbelief. Did she truly think that something so arbitrary as the state of her birth could diminish her importance to him? Even with all the times he'd trembled on the precipice of laying his soul entirely bare before her, did she still think of herself as merely his weapon?
"You don't know," he whispered, dumbfounded, as he drew back into himself. "You truly don't know."
The full weight of Byleth's words settled upon Dimitri with all the tender warmth and shocking chill of summer rain. She wanted to stay by his side, had implied she would choose him even against the Goddess' will. Even if rationality, if virtue decreed that she could never love him the same way he loved her...that trust, that desire alone tantalized him with grace he couldn't fathom, suffused his entire being with hope he didn't deserve.
"Byleth," he said. "Listen to me. You are the sole reason I am still here before you now. You have saved me time and time again in more ways than you could ever imagine. You brought me back to life that night after Gronder and taught me how to feel again." His voice took on a desperate edge that threatened to rend Byleth's unbeating heart. "What I am trying to say—what you must understand is that you may be indispensable to all of us as our rallying force, our guiding light, the savior of Faerghus, but to me…” His eye flashed with steely conviction even as his voice shuddered. "To me, those are the least significant grounds for my needing—wanting you by my side."
Byleth's eyes widened. "What...are you saying?"
Dimitri's tongue went dry. He hadn't meant to say so much, but his hurry to dispel any doubts of her worth had vastly corroded his self-control. Somewhere in the back of his head, the familiar din of his ghosts flared to life.
Wretch, they seethed, heathen, presumptuous fool. Your life is lost to the living. The beastly has no place with the divine.
But even as the voices hissed to a deafening crescendo, the words that had saved his life cut them thunderously silent.
Live for what you believe in.
And if there was one thing he believed in, it was that—
"I love you," he said.
A moment of cosmic stillness. Then, without warning, Byleth leaned forward and swiftly brushed her lips against his.
Dimitri gasped at the contact before she drew away as quickly as she'd moved in. It was barely a kiss and yet his whole body stiffened as if he'd been struck by lightning.
"What?" he whispered, blood careening to his head as he struggled to process the impossibility that had just transpired. "Byleth, what?"
"I thought—" Byleth's face paled with sudden doubt at his reaction. "Did I…misunderstand?"
"No!" he urged, recoiling a bit as he involuntarily raised his voice. "No, it's just—" He exhaled forcefully. "Byleth, I could only ever bring you ruin."
A second passed in roaring silence.
"Is that really what you believe?" she asked incredulously, feeling the heat of tears when he couldn't bring himself to answer.
She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaking breath. When she spoke again, her voice was unfathomably kind and soft even as it smoldered with indomitable resolve. "Forget about that and answer me two questions. Do you want this?"
Dimitri was not a good enough man to hide the truth. "Yes."
"Do you want me?"
"Yes."
"Then ruin me, Dimitri."
And with her arms outstretched in benediction so candidly, so freely, as if it was possible, as if it was right for him to share in her light—who was a mere mortal to refuse his goddess?
A dam broke and Dimitri melted like morning snow into the warmth he'd been stranger to for his entire life, crushing their lips together in a wild, burning surge of movement. Byleth lurched forward onto her hands with a happy sob, feet lifting up slightly as her knees made contact with the ground, and Dimitri's arms acted on their own, pulling her into his lap before he could register what he was doing. Even as his own tears threatened to fall, he could have sworn an entire garden was blossoming behind his lips, eagerly opening his mouth under hers as her fingers found desperate purchase in his hair.
"Dimitri," she whispered between fervent kisses. "Dimitri. Love. Love you. I love you."
"Byleth," he murmured in breathless prayer. "Byleth, my redeemer, my beloved, Byleth."
After a small eternity, they drew apart, drunk on each other's scent and panting like they'd just narrowly avoided drowning. Dimitri finally let the tears spill as he ran his fingers along her face, Byleth responding in kind by pressing a tender kiss into the palm of his hand.
"What is this feeling," he wondered out loud, "this mad rush of newness and warmth, like I can breathe again, like my heart just started beating for the first time?"
"Oh, Dimitri," Byleth said, with a watery smile radiant enough to bring him to his knees. "It is happiness."