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Red Wolf Moon had been a strange month so far at Garreg Mach. The news of a possible plague in Remire Village swept through the monastery, perturbing the students, faculty, and knights and setting them on edge. But what currently worried Dimitri the most was the professor falling ill. Everyone was sick from time to time, but before today, he had somehow seen his professor as infallible. From the moment he witnessed the way she cut down the bandits in Remire Village, he had been enthralled with the mysterious mercenary, and the more he learned about her and saw her in action, the higher his pedestal for her became.
His growing desire for her sickened him at times, but with his headaches returned, his ability to cover up his infatuation was faltering. Suppressing his emotions was exhausting, but still, no one could know about the feelings he harbored for her.
When Dimitri arrived at the Blue Lions classroom that day, he saw that Professor Manuela had replaced Byleth again. His jaw tightened, and his hand curled into a fist at his side. That was three days in a row now that she hadn't been present.
On the first day, he had managed to convince himself that she would be fine. She was strong and resilient. Nothing could keep her down for long.
On the second day, whenever he wasn't occupied with class or training, he paced his room like a caged animal, telling himself over and over that it would be inappropriate for him to visit her. She needed rest, not her students poking their noses in her business.
But three days in a row? Something wasn't right. He needed answers, and he needed them now. The others would arrive soon, so he needed to be quick.
His boots thudded on the stone floor as he approached Professor Manuela. She was sitting on the desk, one long leg crossed daintily over the other, as she leafed through a book of advanced faith magic.
"Professor Manuela, may I speak with you for a moment?"
Manuela lowered her book with her eyebrows raised. "Dimitri." Her lips curved into a sultry smile. "You're here early. What can I do for you?"
"I haven't seen Professor Byleth in a while. Is she still unwell?"
The corners of her mouth turned down in disappointment. "And here I was hoping you were here to keep me company." She sighed. "Your esteemed professor was too stubborn to stay in the infirmary, so she's been confined to her quarters instead." As if she was bored talking to him already, her eyes flicked back to her book. "It's a nasty illness, but with bed rest and the medicine I've given her, she should recover in a day or two."
He was slightly relieved to hear she would be alright, but the words "nasty illness" triggered alarm in him. If she was so ill, why had she refused to stay in the infirmary? Had she been alone in her room all this time? What if she needed something but was too sick to leave?
"I see. I'm glad she will be well again soon." Manuela hummed in agreement, and he gave her a stiff bow. "Thank you, Professor."
He chose to sit at the front of the room as he normally did to limit distractions, but his thoughts of the professor were more than enough to keep him occupied.
"Why the long face, Your Highness?" a familiar voice asked.
Snap.
Dimitri looked up at Sylvain, startled. He blinked several times, then looked down at the broken swan feather quill in his hands. There was movement and chatter all around him as if class had just ended. He didn't remember the others filing in and taking their seats, nor did he remember sitting through an entire class. There was only the dull throb of his headache. Had he been so consumed with thoughts and concern for his professor that he had tuned everything else out?
He looked back up at Sylvain who was standing next to him with his hands resting on the table. Sylvain's gaze darted between Dimitri and the quill fragments in his hands, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face.
Sylvain leaned in closer so only Dimitri could hear him. "Thinking about the professor again, are we?"
Hot embarrassment rushed through him, and he slid his hands under the table to hide his trembling. In a vain effort to calm himself, he further crushed the quill into fine pieces.
Was he that painfully obvious? He needed to do better to quell his desires and suppress his thoughts.
"I'm not in the mood for your jokes, Sylvain."
Dimitri avoided eye contact with his friend as he gathered his things together, but he could still feel Sylvain's perceptive gaze burning into him.
Sylvain pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "Oh, I would never joke about your feelings for her. I might, however, poke fun if you decided to express your affection with, say… a dagger."
Dimitri released a long-suffering sigh. Ever since Sylvain had learned of his gifting a dagger to a girl several years ago, he swore on his family name that he would never let the prince live it down.
"Sylvain!" Ingrid called out to him from the back of the classroom. "Hurry up or we'll have to forfeit our training slot!"
Sylvain waved dismissively at Ingrid, his eyes not straying from Dimitri. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there."
Dimitri closed his eyes and imagined his own hands shoving his irritation and desire to comfort and care for his professor down into a deep well within him. When his eyes floated open, he felt the pain in his temples ebb away a bit. He stood and faced Sylvain with a tight smile.
"I'm afraid you are mistaken. The only feeling I carry right now is concern for the professor's health," he said, his voice possessing an eerie calmness he had practiced countless times.
The glint in Sylvain's eyes whispered "liar", but the red-head simply gave him an easy smile. "Whatever you say, Your Highness." He clapped Dimitri on the shoulder and winked. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?"
Sudden anger flared in Dimitri's chest, but he did his best to keep his expression impassive. Yes, the truth did hurt—maybe more than Sylvain could possibly imagine. He was in love with his professor, and knowing he could never reveal or act on those feelings was worse than any battle wound.
" Sylvain! Are you listening to me?" Ingrid shouted.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Sylvain drawled, and he left Dimitri alone with his thoughts.
* * *
After eating a quick dinner in the dining hall, Dimitri's hurried steps carried him toward the professor's quarters. He carefully cradled a porcelain bowl of soup covered with a cloth in his gloved hands, chanting silently to himself to not hold it too tightly for fear of shattering it with his brute strength. Scattered salt on icy paths crunched beneath his boots, and a fierce, bitter wind stung his exposed skin and whipped his cape around him. The chill of winter had arrived early this year, but it was nothing compared to the harsh, frigid winters of Faerghus, and it would not deter him from his mission.
He wanted to avoid any unnecessary interaction if he could, as he didn't want to be deterred from checking on the professor any longer, and took routes he suspected would be less traveled this time of day. He couldn't help but smile grimly to himself. He must be quite the sight, storming across the grounds like a roiling tempest.
When he arrived at the professor's door, he raised his hand to knock, but then hesitated, his knuckles pressed against the wood. What if she didn't want him here? The word "inappropriate" echoed in his mind. Ever since that day back in Horsebow Moon when he had asked her if she was wearing perfume, and then told her she smelled nice, he had tried to better monitor his words and actions around her. It might have made him seem a bit stiff, but he had vowed not to violate that boundary again.
And yet, here he was, standing outside of her personal quarters , holding a bowl of soup for someone who might not even want it. He sighed, his breath clouding in front of him, and lightly thumped his forehead against the door. This was another line he shouldn't cross.
He turned to leave, but a loud clattering from inside the room made him pause. He held his breath and waited, straining to hear any other sounds. After a few seconds of silence, he licked his dry lips and decided to call out to her.
"Professor?" He heard another crash and grabbed the brass door handle, surprised to find it already unlocked. "Professor, I'm coming in."
Byleth was kneeling on the floor, her vacant gaze on a scattered pile of books . "Son of a bitch," she muttered, not even noticing he had entered, and slowly collected the books back into an unstable stack.
Dimitri stood agape in the doorway. The state of her room was… shocking, to say the least. He had only seen the inside a handful of times, but it was usually pristine and organized. Now, there were books and parchment strewn all over the floor. What had she been doing all of this time?
She shivered and clutched at the thick wool cloak draped over her shoulders. Dimitri snapped his mouth shut and quickly closed the door behind him to seal off the cold air.
Byleth finally looked up at him, her face pale and eyes glazed with fever, and blinked slowly. "Dimitri?"
"Forgive the intrusion, Professor," he said quietly, his gaze raking over her. She was wearing a rumpled, long-sleeved tunic, the front dipping in a sharp V toward her breasts, and loose woolen pants. Her hair was mussed up on one side of her head where she had probably been sleeping. "I haven't seen you in a few days. I wanted to make sure you were alright."
Her lips twitched into a brief smile. "Here I am." She groaned as she pushed off of the floor, her body swaying unsteadily as she stood.
Dimitri set the soup on her desk and rushed to her side, his arm bracing her back. "Easy, Professor."
Byleth grasped his other hand for balance, making his breath hitch. He was wearing gloves, but having any kind of physical contact with her sent his heart racing. Their eyes met, and the rush of warmth through his body nearly stole his breath away.
"I've got you," he murmured, purely enchanted with her, even while she was in poor health.
She squeezed his hand weakly, and though her gaze was slightly unfocused, she didn't look away. "Thank you," she whispered.
A smile bloomed on his face, his guard dropping enough that he didn't even try to suppress it. Though he was reluctant to do so, he released her hand, but kept his arm firmly on her back in case she needed support. "Are you hungry? I brought soup."
Her face brightened a bit at the mention of food. "Yes, that sounds nice."
Dimitri guided her to the desk and pulled out the wooden chair for her. She plopped down with a sigh and rubbed at her temples. "I'm sorry to have worried you," she mumbled. "I thought I would be feeling better by now."
He placed the bowl of soup in front of her and removed the cloth covering it, only to realize he had forgotten to bring a spoon. He reined in a sigh at his carelessness.
Of all the things to forget.
"I'm sorry. I seem to have forgotten to bring a spoon," he said sheepishly.
"No need," she replied and picked up the bowl to sip at the broth.
When he realized he was staring at her, he directed his attention elsewhere. There was a small, portable stove in the corner that was heated using fire magic to keep the dormitories warm. She had probably heated the room more than was necessary due to her illness. Yes, that would explain the sweat beading on his brow and why his clothing felt unbearably hot all of a sudden. It had nothing to do with the nervousness he felt whenever they were alone together.
Byleth hummed with delight each time she slurped at the soup. He glanced at her with a shy smile. Even while she was ill, she ate with such… gusto . The happiness she derived from such small pleasures made him ache for her even more. To be even a small part of that happiness almost made him forget why he came to the Officers Academy in the first place. To have something–or more specifically, someone– take his mind off of revenge, off of the pain and darkness that threatened to overwhelm him every day… Well, she was something quite special, wasn't she?
"That was very good. Thank you, Dimitri."
His gaze snapped in her direction, and he blinked dumbly until her words registered. He smiled. "Of course." He clasped his hands behind his back to keep himself from fidgeting. "If there's anything else you need, I would be happy to get it for you."
She stood and moved toward him. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm–" Her foot caught on a book, and she yelped as she stumbled forward.
Dimitri lunged toward her and caught her in his arms. "Professor! Are you alright?"
Her hands curled into his chest as she chuckled lightly. "I'm okay." She cast a glance around the room, then gave him a wry smile. "I suppose I should clean up in here, huh?"
This was not at all how he pictured he would be holding her for the first time. No, it was somehow even better. His arms tightened around her small waist. It was an effort not to bury his face in her hair or neck, to breathe in that sweet, earthy smell that haunted his every waking moment. Her scent calmed him and filled him with hope, and holding her in his arms made his burdens feel lighter somehow. She was the embodiment of the freedom he longed for but dared not dream of possessing.
Goddess, he didn't want to ever let go of her, but the way she was looking at him now threatened to break his last thread of restraint. He took a step back, his hands lingering on her waist. Her hands flattened against his chest and slid down just a fraction before she pulled away.
He took a glance around the room. "What is all of this?"
She frowned and bent down to pick up a sheaf of crinkled, used parchment. "Lesson plans."
A smile tugged at his lips, and he raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
Byleth chuffed. "Lesson planning is resting." She waved the parchment in the air. "If I have to be stuck in here, I might as well do something useful."
Dimitri understood the need to keep busy more than most, but he pressed his lips together and refrained from goading her further.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What? You have something to say?"
He shook his head. "Only that I admire you," he said, then added hastily, "for always working so diligently, I mean."
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Her eyes softened before she looked away, and she rubbed at her arm self-consciously, her cheeks reddening. "I see," she murmured.
As she turned away, he ran his hand over his face and groaned inwardly.
Seven hells. Why can't I control what I say around her?
Byleth sank onto her bed with a yawn that she tried to cover up with her hand. Perhaps he had overstayed his welcome.
"Well… I'll leave you to get some rest then," he said, and went to grab the soup bowl off of her desk.
"Wait."
He froze with his hands around the bowl. When he turned to look at her, she smiled lazily and waved the parchment at him. "I could use your help with this lesson. It's on lance skills, which I have little experience with despite my father being the famous Blade Breaker."
"You… want my help?" he choked out in disbelief. She was the most capable person he knew. For her to ask for his help… She couldn't know how much that meant to him, not really.
She blinked slowly, almost cat-like in the way she regarded him. "Yes. That's what I said." She tilted her head slightly in that infuriatingly adorable way she had about her when she was about to tease someone. "Unless you have somewhere else to be?"
Joy bubbled within him at the thought of being useful to her. He pressed his fist to his lips and cleared his throat to hide his smile. "I would be happy to assist you, if I can."
Byleth patted the spot next to her on the bed, and though he felt nervous all over again at the thought of being so close to her, he moved with a casual grace that had been instilled in him since he was old enough to walk.
With his added weight, the bed sank farther beneath him, and as she handed over the small stack of parchment, their shoulders connected and arms brushed against each other. He could scarcely breathe when she leaned into him to peer at her writing from his side.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm as they went over the lesson together. He had no idea how much time had passed already, but she seemed to grow drowsier with each page they covered. A war raged within him on whether he should stay or go. He didn't want to become a bother to her, but his desire to be near her whispered soothing words to his frantic heart and mind.
If she wanted me to leave, she would say so.
The thought was unusually smug and caught him off guard, but… it was also the truth. She was never one to mince words. In fact, her bluntness with everyone she spoke to was something he envied about her.
Sylvain's words from earlier permeated his thoughts.
Truth hurts, doesn't it?
It often did. The truth of who he was beneath the glossy veneer of Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was something he had kept hidden for years now. What would his professor think if she knew about the darkness that lurked within him? Would she be disgusted? Frightened?
The image of her that came to mind was neither of those things. In the months he had spent getting to know her, he had never seen her turn her back on anyone, no matter how ugly the situation.
Someday, he might slip up and expose his inner darkness. Would she still smile and welcome him with open arms?
The sudden weight of her head against his shoulder startled him from his thoughts. He kept his body still as his eyes darted to her. Her breathing was slower and deeper than before. She must have fallen asleep. Even through his clothing, he felt warmth radiating from her and noted that her face was flushed.
Without thinking, he set the lesson plan aside and pulled a glove off, but when he reached for her, he hesitated, his hand hovering near her opposite cheek. Was it okay for him to touch her like this? He swallowed, then gently pressed his palm to her face.
She moaned softly at his touch, but she didn't wake. Her skin was hot and feverish. Jaw clenched, he silently berated himself for not noticing her condition sooner.
No, there was no point in criticizing his actions right now. He just needed to make sure she was as comfortable as possible and let her rest.
Dimitri slowly and gently slipped his arm around her and laid her down on her bed. As he moved her legs up onto the mattress, she sighed and snuggled into her pillow. He stayed by her side, his fingers occasionally twitching atop his thigh as he debated whether it was okay to leave her like this.
But the longer he stayed, the more likely someone would notice his absence—or worse, see him leaving her quarters.
He sighed through his nose and stood to leave. His breath hitched when her hand caught his fingers.
"Stay with me," she mumbled, her voice soft and words barely audible.
Dimitri's heart thudded against his chest so hard he feared it would jump right out of his chest. He turned to her slowly, his fingers still gripped in hers.
"Professor?" he said, his voice almost cracking.
"Stay," she breathed, her eyes still closed. "I don't want to be alone."
His throat tightened, and a well of emotion burst inside of him. How many times had he thought those very words? How many times had he wanted to seek comfort but chose to believe himself a burden instead?
Truth hurts, doesn't it?
Yes. It often did.
He sank onto the bed and took her small, scar-flecked hand between his own.
But not today.
Today, the truth brought him closer to the person he loved.
