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“Take care, Lady Byleth! Tell His Highness I said hello!” Flayn chirped happily.
“Don’t worry about a thing while you’re away. I’ve got it all covered, Prof- I mean, Lady Byleth,” Cyril declared, only correcting himself when Seteth visibly stiffened.
“May the goddess protect you on your journey, Archbishop,” Seteth uttered with reverence.
Not one to exchange many pleasantries, Byleth offered what she hoped was a gentle smile toward everyone instead. At least Flayn returned the smile, which was good enough.
Byleth hoisted the hem of her flowing white cape and stepped into the covered carriage, ignoring the hand of assistance offered to her by the driver. Byleth could hear Seteth sigh exasperatedly behind her.
After checking for a few personal belongings in the cabin- an intricately carved wooden box no larger than a common book, a carefully wrapped meat pie, and the Sword of the Creator- Byleth sat down and nodded at the driver. Nodding back, the driver closed the door and promptly made his way to front seat.
Moments later, the horse-drawn carriage pulled off at a steady pace down the stone path. Byleth looked out the passenger window and waved at her entourage until she could no longer see their faces.
As the fortress walls surrounding Garreg Mach gradually drifted away in the distance, Byleth’s thoughts began to drift aimlessly.
When did her life become so tranquil?
The surprisingly plush cushion underneath her was quite a drastic change from the worn, leather saddle she was accustomed to riding. Her hand absentmindedly rubbed the silky fabric, almost certainly a product of one of the fine merchants in the marketplace.
Then there were the fancy names. Lady Byleth. Having been surrounded by hairy mercenaries and war-hardened battalions for most of her life, Byleth would hardly call herself a lady. And yet, the staff and noblemen who frequented the monastery treated her like a queen.
Though to be fair, she was quite literally the Queen of the United Kingdom of Fodlan. Not to mention, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros. These names carried vastly more responsibilities and expectations than she knew were humanly possible.
Byleth’s lip twitched in amusement as she remembered the first time she tried (and failed) signing her her full title on the monastery’s announcement to reopen the Officers Academy. With a disapproving stare at Byleth’s very noticeable scratch-out, Seteth forced Byleth to practice her signature for the next hour while he rewrote the document.
Safe to say, it took a while for Byleth to become accustomed to life after war.
These changes weren’t bad, by any means. She did not necessarily miss her life as a professor or army general.
These days, life was simply… different. Complicated at times, but not unwelcome. Byleth had never been one who considered formalities with high regard, so there was always something new to learn.
However, there was one title that Byleth held closely to her un-beating heart.
Byleth reached for the wooden box next to her and unclasped the top, revealing a short stack of parchment paper. Taking the first paper, Byleth skimmed the familiar handwriting before closing her eyes, imagining the author speaking the words to her with a softened gaze that gently swept her into a sea of serendipity.
“Hello, my beloved,” Dimitri whispered to Byleth, his deep blue eye lighting up with affection.
Before Byleth could properly greet her husband, he enveloped her in a hug so tight, it threatened to take her breath away.
“Dimitri,” she mumbled back, her voice muffled as he had planted her face firmly into his chest and shrouded her with his royal blue cloak.
They stayed like this for several moments, oblivious to the hustle and bustle of servants, who were unloading the Archbishop’s belongings from the carriage. Byleth basked in the scent of cedar wood and musk, listening to Dimitri’s slightly fast heartbeat.
Dimitri still felt so warm and familiar, despite not being by her side for four long months. The separation was necessary for both of them to focus on rebuilding and stabilizing Fodlan. Writing letters certainly helped take off the edge of longing, but nothing truly compared to being in his strong embrace. Just remembering their time apart made Byleth feel dizzy.
Or perhaps that was the oxygen deprivation. Byleth turned her head sideways and took a deep breath. She could feel Dimitri’s chest rumble as he chuckled quietly.
“How was your trip?” he asked her, his vice grip on the small of her back loosening so they could look at each other.
“Nostalgic,” Byleth answered without missing a beat.
Dimitri tilted his head slightly. “Oh? I would love to hear more about-“
“Your Highness. Prof- I mean, Lady Byleth.”
Both Byleth and Dimitri looked up and over the king’s back to find Ingrid walking briskly toward the couple with a furrow in her eyebrow.
“Am I needed in the conference room again?” Dimitri asked ruefully.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Ingrid answered apologetically. “Felix and Gustave are in a heated debate about the military’s allocation of soldiers along the border… again,” she explained exasperatedly.
Dimitri’s cloak unraveled from Byleth as he released her, and she immediately felt the chilly breeze. “Duty calls?” she asked calmly as she looked into his eye.
Dimitri smiled at her wistfully. “Duty calls. I will look forward to hearing about your nostalgic journey tonight at dinner,” he said resolutely before hurriedly following Ingrid back across the courtyard and inside the castle.
Alas, Byleth didn’t see Dimitri again until she awoke to him laying beside her in bed the next morning.
The first few days in Faerghus were a whirlwind of orderly chaos.
First, there were briefings to catch Byleth up on all ongoing discussions about the kingdom’s resources: military, business, agriculture, education. The list went on.
The best parts of those days were when these meetings included Dimitri. Unfortunately, they were few and far in between. Whether before or after, Byleth barely had enough time to say a few words or brush her fingers against his arm in greeting. Not to mention, there was no privacy during the daytime.
At nighttime when Dimitri returned to their private chambers far too late, Byleth kept the conversation short to give the yawning king his much-needed time to rest. An embrace with a quiet kiss and a “good night” was the extent of their alone time.
Then there was a banquet with the stuffy lords and dukes who were interested in enrolling their heirs into the Officers Academy. Why Byleth was chosen as the sole representative to convince these people to enroll, she had no earthly clue. Nevertheless, she managed to not offend anyone successfully.
And of course, Byleth still had a monastery to run from afar. Seteth’s paperwork always found its way to her, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it.
Though, she did find that visiting the orphanage in town with Mercedes was the most rewarding way to at least delay the inevitable onslaught of parchment. Hardly anyone questioned the benevolent Archbishop taking time out of her busy schedule to teach children the basics of white magic or how to forage for berries.
Byleth interacted with the children the same way she did with any adult. And for the most part, that worked well. Kids were honest to a fault, so it was fairly easy for Byleth to read them. They also didn’t mind Byleth’s straightforward communication style, which made it tempting for Byleth to fall back into her professorial habits. However, it wasn’t so easy to keep their attention during lessons.
Sometimes lessons on white magic devolved into roleplaying as Knights of Seiros. Other times, the children stopped picking berries in favor of picking flowers for Byleth and Mercedes. And at worst times, the rascals got competitive or discouraged during a lesson to the point of meltdown. With one child rubbing tears and snot into her white cloak while another child clung onto her shin like a marsupial, Byleth had no clue what to do.
This is when Mercedes stepped in and showed her strength. Without fail, the patient cleric always managed to safely remove every child off Byleth and make everyone’s frown turn upside down before departing for the day. Byleth could only stand back and watch in amazement.
One afternoon on the way back to the castle, Byleth decided to inquire. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Mercedes asked sweetly.
“Calm the children when their lips begin wobbling,” Byleth clarified.
Mercedes pointed her finger in the air as they walked. “Well, I’ve already seen every child cry at least twice,” she answered matter-of-factly.
“Is that it then? I just need to watch each child cry a few times?” Byleth replied, mildly perplexed. If she kept visiting, surely that would happen naturally.
Mercedes abruptly stopped to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. Byleth halted and turned toward Mercedes, unfazed by her reaction.
“My apologies,” Mercedes giggled and lowered her hand. “What I mean to say is this. When you spend enough time with someone, you learn how to commune with them.”
Now Byleth was intrigued. “What’s the best way to commune then?” she asked. Who better to ask than a cleric?
Mercedes smiled and shook her head knowingly. “There’s no perfect answer since every person is different, especially children.”
“Ah,” Byleth stated dully. While she was hoping Mercedes would say otherwise, she wasn’t exactly surprised.
“However, one method that I always recommend to people- regardless of their age- is to find something to compliment about the other person.”
Byleth crossed her arms and mulled over this. “Well, I compliment the children’s basic spell memorization and success at identifying poisonous ferns,” she stated slowly.
Mercedes nodded firmly. “That’s a good start. Though if you compliment something about who they are, then they will usually remember that.”
Byleth stared at the grass intensely as she tried to come up with an example. But nothing came to mind. Perhaps it was something to improve, after all.
Mercedes continued, “Do you notice that people from the academy days still call you Professor?”
Byleth nodded, her gaze returning to Mercedes. “Yes, quite often. I don’t mind, but I don’t see your point,” she replied.
“The reason is because it encompasses who you are to us so succinctly. You’ve always been a role model to your students and peers, myself included,” Mercedes explained as her hands clasped over her heart.
Byleth nodded slowly, beginning to understand Mercedes’ advice. Aside from being her occupation at the time, Byleth had never considered it more deeply than that. Nonetheless, she was glad that the title mattered to her friends and colleagues.
“And this complimenting thing works for adults too?” Byleth asked hopefully.
Mercedes giggled. “Well, you are smiling now,” she pointed out. “So you tell me.”
Byleth huffed in amusement as the realization hit her. “I suppose you’re right then,” she agreed as she and Mercedes resumed walking.
By her third week in Faerghus, Byleth had mastered her new schedule with growing boredom.
Despite seeing her husband daily, she almost felt like she was still at Garreg Mach. No matter how quickly she finished her paperwork or how succinctly she responded to inquiries about the Officers Academy, Dimitri was always entrenched in work and unable to break away from his attendants until late in the evening. Although Byleth never complained, she quickly realized that she would need to put matters into her own hands if she was going to spend quality one-on-one time with her husband.
So she did. She started off small, making a greater effort to catch Dimitri right after their mutual briefings. Now that she knew her own schedule so well, she could squeeze a little time to walk with Dimitri to his next appointment. Ever appreciative of Byleth's presence, Dimitri's had no qualms with politely excusing himself from his entourage.
But once Byleth had his attention, she wasn't sure what to say. Should she talk about the weather or breakfast? No, that seemed a bit shallow. Should she rehash notes from their briefing? No, that seemed redundant. Should she share with him the latest castle rumors from the maids? Considering neither of them were keen to gossip, definitely not. She racked her brain for something to say. Anything to share with Dimitri.
"Though if you compliment something about who they are, then they will usually remember that.” Mercedes' timely words echoed in Byleth's mind.
Byleth recalled the stressful meeting they just left with Felix and Gustave, particularly how Dimitri saved the meeting from devolving into a yelling match by convincing both men to compromise. Finally, inspiration struck.
“Your confidence in that meeting impressed me,” Byleth commended the king as she looked up to him.
Dimitri paused and blinked at her slowly, causing Byleth to wonder for a moment if she had said something wrong.
Her worry was allayed when he suddenly took her hand into his and kissed it. Now she was the one blinking slowly, not expecting the personal display of affection during business hours.
“What was that for?” Byleth asked curiously as he lowered her hand.
“No reason,” Dimitri replied curtly before joining his attendees ahead of her for his next consultation.
Byleth stood alone in the grand hall with a blank expression.
If she didn't know better, she could almost swear that Dimitri stood a few centimeters taller.
Most intriguing.
Over the next few days, Byleth continued her efforts to talk to Dimitri amid the bustle of the day. She sprinkled a genuine compliment here and there when she felt appropriate, and each time she was rewarded in kind with a boyish grin, a longing gaze, or a few extra moments of conversation. It was a short, but refreshing way to breathe life into the mundane.
Her favorite compliment to date was when Dimitri crawled into bed wearily with bags under his eyes and his sleeping blouse clearly on backwards.
“Even when you forget how to dress yourself properly, you’re strikingly handsome,” Byleth noted cheekily while sitting up against the plush headboard.
Dimitri, who was on his back and practically half-asleep, jolted awake briefly and blushed beet red, haphazardly raising his shirt over his head to fix it.
On a whim, Byleth proceeded to playfully tackle him before he could replace the shirt, which resulted in Dimitri foregoing the shirt altogether and falling asleep with Byleth resting on his chiseled chest.
Still, these fleeting moments weren’t enough to satisfy Byleth’s growing desire to spend time with Dimitri.
“So if I relinquish my training time with Dimitri, you will send word for me to receive a hickory smoked ham from the monastery?” Ingrid asked incredulously.
Byleth stared at the knight with an impassive expression, unsure if she should have even attempted to bargain. Asking a knight as dedicated as Ingrid to abandon even the smallest of her duties was-
“Deal,” Ingrid stated flatly and began walking in the opposite direction back toward the castle. “I will return in an hour,” she waved without looking back.
- A little too easy.
Byleth tried not to think about it too much.
Not wasting anymore time, Byleth entered the training arena, her pure white cape and golden circlet were discarded in exchange for her signature black cape, with the Sword of the Creator at her hip.
As she approached, she could already hear grunts of exertion and the distinct sound of a wooden dummy being pummeled.
“Ah, there you are, Ingri-“ Dimitri began and relaxed his stance, his own royal garments exchanged with a loose, worn blouse, trousers, and light armor. His blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. When his eye fell upon Byleth, he immediately perked up.
“Beloved, what a pleasant surprise. Have you seen Ingrid?” Dimitri called out innocently, raising his long sleeve to wipe his damp forehead. “We’re supposed to be training.”
“Change of plans. Today’s training will be with me,” Byleth answered as she stopped in front of the training weapon rack and picked up a wooden sword.
Dimitri opened his mouth and quirked his eyebrow to ask something, but promptly closed it and shrugged his broad shoulders in acceptance. “What is today’s exercise?” he asked eagerly as made his way toward the weapon rack and picked up a practice lance, seemingly forgetting about the wooden dummy.
“First person to yield loses,” Byleth explained succinctly as both warriors walked to the center of the arena.
"Sounds good to me," Dimitri agreed, raising his arms over his head for a long stretch. He eyed Byleth once more and asked flirtatiously, "Should I be calling you Professor since you have graced me with this classic outfit?"
Her lips quirking into a small smile, she replied coolly, "You will call me victor if you do not take me seriously."
"Duly noted," Dimitri chortled.
After a few light swings to ensure the equipment wasn’t broken, they faced each other and readied their battle stances.
Dimitri made the first move, closing the distance between them and swinging his lance in a sharp arc. Byleth parried deftly, returning his swing for a swing of her own. They exchanged several blows like this, each one surpassing the next in speed.
Byleth attempted to gain the upperhand by feinting, drawing Dimitri even closer so that she could strike. However, Dimitri was undeterred by such a tactic and immediately adjusted his swing to protect his innermost space.
Now this was the quality time Byleth had longed for. Tranquil life or not, here is where Byleth felt most at ease. Muscles flexing instinctively, her sword an extension of herself. Sweat building in the heat of battle. Adrenaline pumping through her veins. And of course, fighting alongside (technically, temporarily against) Dimitri.
Eventually, Dimitri’s height advantage overtook Byleth, forcing her to break contact and roll to her left to dodge the next swing. With a new vantage point, Byleth launched herself from Dimitri’s blind spot and resumed her attack.
Even in the onslaught, Byleth's professorial eye couldn't help but to analyze Dimitri's performance. His minimal footwork effectively compensated for his vision, and his lance blocked Byleth head on. Albeit expected, his control was impressive. “You predicted my move quite easily. Excellent positioning, Dimitri,” she commended him.
Dimitri’s eye, which had been calmly focused on her, sharpened abruptly. But Byleth didn’t have enough time to figure out what that look meant, as Dimitri’s next swing forced her to dodge low to the ground. “I’m just getting started, beloved,” he replied, a youthful excitement dripping from his voice.
Suddenly invigorated, Dimitri began performing a series of high-speed jabs. Byleth was forced to take several steps back, dodging when she could and blocking when she needed. It didn't take long for Dimitri to put Byleth completely on the defensive. If this went on for too long, she might actually get stuck with her back against the wall from his brute strength alone.
However, she noted that these swings weren’t as tightly controlled as before. What changed?
In a swift retreat, she somersaulted sideways and barrel rolled onto her feet to create some distance. Like a lion hunting its prey, Dimitri followed her every move and began re-engaging her with his lance.
Now Byleth was certain that his form had changed. Albeit miniscule, Byleth noticed that Dimitri's posture had lengthened slightly. It was almost as if he was holding his shoulders more broadly than usual. Where had she seen this before?
As if inspired by the goddess herself, Byleth recalled the first time she complimented Dimitri in the grand hallway. He stood taller and carried his head higher after receiving Byleth's words.
Now Byleth was not normally one to talk much during battle, but a sneaky plan hatched into her mind. Could victory really be that simple? If she calculated correctly, then yes.
“You’re so strong that you might actually back me into a corner, darling ,” Byleth flattered her opponent as dramatically as possible, which was admittedly not much different from her usual tone.
Somehow, it seemed to do the job. Dimitri visibly straightened, as if he had been stunned for a split second by a shock of lightning. It was just enough time for Dimitri to lose his balance and for Byleth to parry away the attack finally.
As their weapons clashed, Byleth could feel her wooden sword cracking under the sheer pressure of Dimitri’s onslaught. Another forceful swing, and her weapon would be destroyed.
But Byleth knew she wouldn’t need to parry again. In a skillful arc, Byleth swept the ground around Dimitri’s legs and knocked him cleanly off his feet. Just as his back thudded painfully against the earth and he dropped his lance, Byleth stood over him and pointed her now splintered sword in his face.
"Today's lesson: Never let your opponent's words get to your head," Byleth commented wryly.
Dimitri laughed, though it came out as more of a groan. “Do I even need to say that I yield?”
Byleth stared at him blankly for two whole seconds before tossing her sword to the side and dropping to her knees to straddle his waist. Then she cupped his face with her hands and swooped down for a long, adrenaline-filled kiss.
When they pulled apart, Byleth murmured teasingly, “If you say you yield, I’ll call you darling again.”
“I’ll yield as many times as you want, beloved,” Dimitri complied.
Yes, this was the title that mattered most to Byleth.