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Everything was wrong.
Byleth didn’t understand what was happening. She’d seen many people die over the years. Some were opponents struck down by her sword. Some were her allies, falling to the ground beside her. She didn’t enjoy killing, didn’t like the smell and gore and cruelty. But it was the only life she’d ever known. People died. It was a fact of life, one that she acknowledged and then moved on from. Perhaps she might feel a brief ache in her chest when one of the company’s older mercenaries died, or when the foe she cut down was little more than a child. But death had never truly affected her.
Until now.
Jeralt was lying still on the ground. He’d been like that when she found him, unmoving and limp. Blood all around him, pooling from the twin wounds in his chest. He didn’t respond when Byleth called out his name and pushed on his shoulder, even though he’d never ignored her in the past.
The cold, logical part of Byleth understood what was happening. Even a skilled healer would have struggled to knit those gaping wounds together, or to save the damaged organs within. It wouldn’t take long for anyone to succumb to such injuries. And judging by the amount of blood and the stillness of his body, the lack of movement in his chest, no breaths passing through his lips…he was…
But for the first time in her life, that detached part of Byleth wasn’t in control. She felt like she was about to vomit, her pulse racing and her head light and dizzy. Clinging to Jeralt’s arm, she shook him and murmured his name, driven by some desperate hope that claimed he might respond if only she tried hard enough. Her eyes were stinging painfully, her vision growing blurred the longer she sat by his side. Feeling too weak to remain upright, Byleth slumped down until her forehead pressed against his. Already he felt cold. Why…why didn’t he say anything?
Child…he is gone, Sothis whispered, her usually haughty voice gentled by pity. There is nothing to be done. But you must not lose yourself, not yet. You are not safe here. Retreat for now, and save your tears for later.
Byleth ignored her warning, only clinging more fiercely to her father. He couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t. She refused to accept it. There had to be something she could do, some way to heal his wounds or – or to prevent it all from happening. To strike down his killer before they ever had a chance, and…and…
I understand your pain, child. And I promise you – one day revenge will be ours. But the time is not yet right. Leave now, before you too lose your life. Hurry!
Time…Sothis…
Byleth’s eyes snapped back open, a weak, desperate hope stirring in her heart. She’d arrived at Jeralt’s side too late to save him – but perhaps that reality did not have to be true.
Without stopping to think, to wonder if her plan was even possible, Byleth slowed her breathing and sharpened her focus. Her magic swelled up instinctually in response, bright and powerful, fire and light combined. But it wasn’t enough. Instead Byleth reached deeper within herself, ignoring the protests of her body. Deeper and deeper, until finally she could stretch out and claw at the walls of that mysterious power that dwelled within her chest. Byleth had never touched it before, never wielded its power.
But Sothis had. The day that purple haired mercenary had almost killed them, the goddess had claimed Byleth’s body as her own. She’d reached into Byleth’s heart and pulled out a strange magic. And then she’d broken the flow of time, bending reality to her will.
It had only been a few seconds, just long enough to dodge a fatal strike. But in that brief moment, Byleth had felt how much power dwelt within her. She could do it. She could save him.
What are you doing?! Sothis screamed. Her consciousness battered at Byleth’s, attempting to wrest away control of her body once more. But this time Byleth shrugged off her efforts with ease. Her will was too strong to be overtaken, determination hardening her mind. Nothing would stop her from grasping that power and turning back the hands of time. Not Sothis. Not the agonizing pain that burned through her body as the magic began to wake. You fool! Sothis continued, rage and terror mixing in her cries. A mortal cannot wield such power safely! You’ll doom us both! You’ll –
Everything came to a stop. All around her, the world had turned to shadowy glass.
And then it shattered.
Byleth woke up slowly. Her thoughts were sluggish and disoriented, dragging along as though trapped in the mud, and her eyes refused to stay open, dropping closed before she could remember where she was. It was…strange. Normally she was clear and alert from the moment she awoke, but now her head felt so heavy that she struggled to lift it off the soft pillow. Feeling vaguely uneasy, Byleth forced herself to look around. Even through the fog of her mind, she knew that she needed to find Jeralt. If she saw his familiar face, she’d feel better. His presence always brought her comfort, no matter the situation. But where….?
Gasping, Byleth jerked upright. All of her lethargy vanished in an instant, replaced by icy clarity as her memories returned.
Jeralt on the ground. Unmoving. Cold. Covered in blood…
That weird burning sensation returned to Byleth’s eyes. She tried to ignore it, tried to remain calm as she made herself remember what happened next. Sothis had warned her about…something…but Byleth hadn’t listened, reaching for that strange power instead. And then…
And then?
Byleth looked around. She wasn’t on the battlefield anymore. But she wasn’t in her tent either, or even the room in the last inn they’d stayed at. She wasn’t anywhere that she recognized.
Instead, she was in an unfamiliar room, sitting on a plush sofa with an elegantly carved frame. Wealth was evident in every corner of the room, though in a practical, well-made way rather than the gaudy displays she’d seen around their noble clients. There were bookshelves along every wall, stuffed full of more books than Byleth had seen in her entire life, and a large desk rested at the head of the room, covered in scattered papers and messy ink splotches. The room was dark but for a single sputtering torch by the door, casting flickering shadows around the cluttered space.
Where was she?
“…Sothis?” Byleth asked quietly, but there was no response. Her mind was…empty. Silent. Something uncomfortable twisted in her chest.
Not wanting to dwell on that weird feeling, Byleth stood and walked toward the nearest bookshelf. Perhaps she could find a clue, to let her know where she was – where Jeralt was. If he was all right, or if he was still…
Byleth forced herself to focus on the books. Although the sheer number would suggest this to be the room of an avid reader, the majority were covered in a thick layer of dust. Frowning faintly, she pulled out a random book and wiped away the grime to read its title. The History of the Church of Seiros, Vol. XXIV: The Crescent Moon War and the Eastern Church Reformation. Byleth stared down at the book warily. The Church of Seiros…she’d only heard of it since the war began a few months past, but Jeralt had warned her to keep her distance. It was the main reason he’d been reluctant to ditch their imperial contract and head for the kingdom, even when everything had devolved into madness. And that reluctance had led to…
Stomach churning, Byleth slid the book back into its place. A quick glance at a few others showed them all to be related to the Church of Seiros and its knights, though whoever kept the room clearly had little interest in the subject. Her unease grew with every book. She couldn’t imagine Jeralt ever having a connection with this strange place – but then, why had Sothis’s power brought her here?
An unpleasant, itchy sensation burned beneath her skin, but Byleth forced herself to think logically. It didn’t matter why the magic had brought her here. What mattered was figuring out what to do next. Looking around the room once again, Byleth weighed her options. Whoever owned the room was unlikely to be an ally, so it would be wise to leave before they returned. But judging by the late hour, she doubted that the owner would make an appearance anytime soon – the room was clearly some sort of office, not personal quarters. With that in mind, she should have time to investigate a little further, waiting until the dead of night to slip away unseen.
Satisfied in her plan, Byleth turned to the desk, the last object of note in the room. While the books hadn’t been that useful, the papers on the desk would likely be of a more personal nature. Perhaps she would find a map and figure out where she was – or a dated letter, to determine when she was. It was a disconcerting thought, but Byleth refused to let it bother her as she walked over to the desk and grabbed the nearest item. It was a small leatherbound book, a journal of some sort. Flipping it open, she scanned the page and –
And froze. Byleth could hardly breathe – hardly think – as she stared down at the journal entry. The words didn’t register in her mind. Couldn’t register. Not when that familiar handwriting stared back up at her.
Jeralt had written it. She knew he had. She’d seen his writing on contracts for her entire life, had been taught to read in letters formed by his hand. Those who saw his writing were always surprised, claiming the prettiness of his loops and flourishes was at odds with his hulking figure and fierce reputation, but Byleth had never agreed. The writing was simply a part of Jeralt, as natural as his scars and skill with a lance.
And now he was gone.
Her eyes began to burn again. Byleth closed them, but the stinging pain didn’t stop. Her lower lip started to quiver, but not even trapping it between her teeth could stop the trembling. Her hands tightened into fists, causing her to drop the journal that bore Jeralt’s writing, but Byleth couldn’t bring herself to care. She knew that she had to clear her mind and think logically, that she needed to figure out why Jeralt was connected to this place and find a way to turn the situation to her advantage. But her mind refused to cooperate, too disoriented and consumed by emotion. How could she possibly think straight, when all she wanted to do was curl up on the ground and hide away from the world, to fade away into nothingness and return to Jeralt’s side…
There was a knock at the door.
Instinct took over before Byleth could even register the noise. Her body whipped around to face the intruder, her dagger already in hand as she crouched into a defensive position. She stood perfectly still, poised to strike at the barest hint of danger.
“Professor?” Byleth padded silently to the wall and hid in the shadows, her thoughts finally catching up with her body. The voice was male. Young, if she had to guess. “Professor, are you still here?” There was a long pause. Byleth hardly breathed. “…I can see the light from your torch, Professor,” the boy continued quietly. “I know you are in there. Please. I…I just wish to see you. I cannot sleep until I know that you are…” He trailed off, his elegant speech breaking with emotion. Something twisted in Byleth’s heart at the sound of his quivering voice, but she didn’t allow her stance to waver. Now was not the time to lose herself to sentiment.
As the silence dragged on, Byleth began to hope that the intruder might leave. She didn’t want to kill anyone – the noise might draw the attention of others and make her escape even harder, not to mention end her investigation earlier than intended. But if left with no choice…well. Few survived the blade of the Ashen Demon.
Unfortunately, the intruder was persistent. With a soft sigh, he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. “Please forgive my rudeness, Professor. But I cannot allow you to suffer alone any longer.”
Byleth forced herself to remain still as the boy entered. He didn’t notice her lurking in the shadows, instead carelessly turning his back to her as he pushed the door closed. The moment it clicked into place, she pounced.
The boy reacted faster than she expected. Byleth had barely brushed the dagger against the armour on his back when he whipped around and grabbed her arm, his strong grip feeling more than capable of breaking her bones. She refused to give up so easily though. As the man stared down at her, his eyes widening in shock, Byleth let the dagger fall from her hand and grabbed it with the other, lunging forward to press it up against his unprotected throat.
For a moment, neither moved. And then the intruder released her arm, holding both of his hands up in a non-threatening manner. Byleth blinked up at him, confused enough that she failed to take the killing blow. Clearly the boy had combat experience. Why would he give up so easily?
“It is me, Professor,” the boy said, his voice unbearably gentle. His pale blue eyes were filled with some emotion that Byleth couldn’t name, but the sight made her feel…weird. “Dimitri.”
Byleth tilted her head slowly, examining the young man. She knew that she should just kill him, before he changed his mind and tried to escape. The door was thick enough that it should muffle any cries, and her blade was close enough that a simple flick of her wrist would end him. But for some reason, Byleth found herself reluctant to act.
Dimitri…although there was something vaguely familiar about the name, Byleth was certain that she’d never met him before. But the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her…this Dimitri clearly believed that he knew her.
“I am not one of them,” Dimitri continued. His soothing voice deepened to a growl on that last word, darkness flashing through his pretty eyes, but his expression smoothed back into gentle understanding before she could blink. The quick shift in personality should have been concerning. Instead, Byleth felt intrigued. “I suppose that it is hard to believe, after all that has happened. But I can prove that I am the real Dimitri, Professor, and not one of those dastards who steal the faces of others.”
Dimitri paused, closing his eyes as he thought. It would be the perfect time to strike. He was defenseless. Easy to catch unaware. Byleth knew that. And yet for some reason her gaze remained glued to his face, weirdly fixated on the curve of his jawline and his long pale lashes that shone in the firelight. Even the sight of his throat bobbing beneath her dagger when he swallowed was fascinating, drawing her attention like nothing had before.
“That night at the Goddess Tower…it was only the two of us, Professor. No one else was there.” Dimitri opened his eyes, a faint pink flush to his cheeks. He looked so…innocent as he stared down at her, open and trusting and unconcerned by the dagger at his throat. “We made a wish to the goddess – that no one would ever be unjustly taken from us again.” Dimitri smiled, but something about the expression was wrong. He looked…sad. Guilty. Byleth didn’t like it. “Of course, I failed miserably to keep that promise. I would understand if you…” He trailed off, grimacing, but his eyes were earnest when he met her gaze. “No one else knows about our wish, Professor. I swear to you, I am the real Dimitri. You…you are safe.”
Byleth hadn’t moved a muscle during his speech. She had no idea what Dimitri was talking about, but he obviously cared deeply for whoever he thought she was. And though Byleth knew his kindness wasn’t meant for her, it was still oddly soothing to see the warmth in his eyes, to hear the familiarity in his voice, as if they truly were friends. And the wish he spoke of…her chest clenched in pain at the memory of Jeralt lying on the ground, so still amongst the blood. Perhaps…if she had made such a wish…
When Byleth failed to respond, Dimitri slowly reached for her free hand. He took it carefully in his own, so gentle despite the strength he’d shown earlier. So warm, even through his glove.
A shiver ran through Byleth, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
Keeping her eyes fixed on Dimitri, wary for any sign of betrayal, Byleth lowered the dagger. She waited for him to strike, to take advantage of her moment of weakness. But instead he only smiled, so sweet and sincere that she was forced to look away, her face feeling oddly warm.
Byleth had no idea what was happening. Who was this boy? How could he make her feel such strange things with a simple smile? And why…
Why did he look at her so fondly?
“Your hands are cold, Professor,” Dimitri said, gentle yet reproving. He gathered her other hand in his, unconcerned by the dagger, and leaned forward to peer into her face. “And you are looking pale. You have not eaten since…since it happened, have you?”
Byleth didn’t answer. How could she, when she had no idea what he was asking her about? Fortunately, Dimitri seemed to read something in her silence. His eyes were sad but his smile was kind when he squeezed her hands.
“I know that it is late, but…perhaps you might join me in the dining hall? We could cook a meal together, just like before. It would hardly be our first time sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack, after all.” The jovial tone in his voice sounded forced even to Byleth’s ears, but for some reason his efforts to cheer her up made her feel a little bit warmer. Still, Dimitri winced as the silence dragged on, his falsely bright smile dropping into a grimace. “Forgive me. I suppose it is too soon to try and coax you back into the normal swing of things. After what happened to Sir Jeralt…”
No…
Byleth jerked backward. All of the fragile comfort she’d felt from Dimitri’s presence shattered in an instant, pain echoing through her chest as though he’d just stabbed her with the dagger. She stared up at him in a daze, all breath stolen from her lungs. How did he…?
“I am so sorry,” Dimitri whispered. Tears glistened in his eyes. “I am sorry I could not do anything to stop it, Professor.” He rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands, his firm grip the only thing keeping her in place. “Please, stay here until you have found some peace. I will…we will all be waiting for you whenever you are ready to return to us.”
Byleth didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply. Thoughts crowded into her mind, too chaotic to understand. Nothing made sense. She was in an office she’d never seen before, and yet a journal bearing Jeralt’s writing lay within. She spoke with a boy she’d never met before, and yet he acted as though they were intimately familiar. And he…he knew about Jeralt. He knew what had happened. He knew…he knew that Jeralt was dead.
Which meant, Byleth realized with an icy sense of dread, that she had failed. Even with the power of the goddess, she had failed. Jeralt was still dead.
And she was alone.
“Perhaps it is not my place to speak, but…” Byleth looked up blankly when Dimitri broke the silence. Her chest continued to ache with emptiness, her mind lost and dazed. But his pale eyes, so soft and full of emotion, felt like a beacon in the darkness, anchoring her to reality. “I do not believe it is a sign of strength to just keep moving forward no matter what. Taking the time to grieve for those we have lost…there is strength in that too. That is what I think, anyway.” Slowly, Dimitri lifted one hand to gently cup her cheek. Byleth pressed into his warm touch, her eyes drifting shut as he wiped away the wetness that lingered on her face. “That said…it is also important to remember that no matter how sad you are, eventually your tears will dry up. That is when you have to figure out what it is you are living for. Then you can cling to that, with all your might, and start moving forward again.”
“…What I’m living for?”
It was a strange idea. One that Byleth struggled to understand. For as long she’d been alive, she had never truly lived for anything. She’d only ever wandered through life, following her father and doing her job. Personal desires and goals had never mattered. Byleth was a mercenary. That was all she ever had been. All she ever would be.
But now that Jeralt was gone, now that he was no longer there to make all of the decisions…now that no one waited for her in her old life, smiling fondly when they saw her approach…could she really go back to drifting through life, aimlessly following a path she hadn’t chosen for herself?
Did she even…want to?
“It is difficult, I know.” Byleth opened her eyes as Dimitri spoke, confused until she realized that she’d voiced her thoughts aloud. A hint of her former wariness returned. Who was this boy, who could render her relaxed enough to speak carelessly with a simple touch? It was hard to maintain that suspicion though, when he held her so gently – when he watched her with such sad understanding in his eyes. “Four years ago in Duscur, I experienced the same pain you are feeling now, Professor. My father…” A now familiar ache burned in her chest, but it only grew more intense as Dimitri began to tremble. His hold on her hand grew painfully tight, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. “He was the strongest man I knew. Someone I loved and admired deeply. And then that day…he was killed before my eyes. His head severed clear off.”
Byleth inhaled sharply. Dimitri understood. He understood. He knew that sense of loss, that desperation, that awful pain. He understood – and though she wasn’t sure why, the knowledge that someone else faced the same struggles made Byleth’s own suffering feel a little less lonely.
“My stepmother, the kindest person I had ever known, left me behind and disappeared into the infernal flames. Everyone who I considered precious…my family and my closest friends…I could not save any of them. Not a single one.”
Dimitri let out a long, shuddering breath, grief and guilt palpable in every inch of his face. Byleth wished she knew the words to soothe away his pain, but expressing herself verbally had always been a struggle. Instead, she settled for squeezing his hand. Meager as it was, the gesture seemed to touch Dimitri in some way – the distance faded from his eyes as he focused on her again.
“Now the burden of the work they left behind falls on me.” Dimitri’s voice deepened, growing rough compared to the elegant way he’d spoken before. The change made Byleth shiver, though she couldn’t tell if it was fear or interest that burned within her. “I must ensure they have no regrets. That is my duty, as the sole survivor of the tragedy. It is a heavy burden, but accepting it gave me the strength to pick myself up off the ground and start moving again. Start living again.”
Dimitri tilted her head back, forcing her to look into his eyes. Byleth felt trapped beneath his intense gaze. His face was unbearably close to hers. Close enough that he was all that she could see, close enough that she could feel his breath against her lips. And when he rested his forehead against hers, Byleth didn’t flinch. Instead she waited, hardly breathing, for Dimitri to give her the answers she so desperately craved.
“Sir Jeralt is gone…So, what will you do now, Professor? What must you do? Look deep in your heart and I am certain you will find the answer there…indelible and inescapable.”
Byleth closed her eyes, considering Dimitri’s words. To ensure they have no regrets…is that what Jeralt would have wanted? Would he want her to take on his duties? Achieve his goals? With a twinge of shame, Byleth realized that she didn’t even know what Jeralt’s goals were. She’d never bothered to ask when he was alive. It hadn’t seemed important. And now it was too late.
But perhaps there was another way to wipe away his regrets. Perhaps she could hunt down his killer. Win the one fight that Jeralt had lost. Get revenge. Byleth pursed her lips. Something about that idea quickened her pulse, resonating with the anguish in her heart.
That was what she wanted, Byleth realized. And for the first time in her life, she felt a sense of purpose – like she finally had something to live for.
Was this what Dimitri meant?
Except…something deep within her heart cried out that revenge was not what Jeralt would have wanted.
Byleth didn’t know what to think. It was all so confusing. Everything had been from the moment she found Jeralt’s body. There were too many emotions, too many questions. The only thing that felt certain in the chaos was the boy before her. Someone she’d only just met, yet who had shown her more kindness than anyone else she’d ever known. Someone who understood.
“Professor…”
Dimitri spoke so lowly that Byleth doubted she would have heard had they not been so close. She opened her eyes, captivated by the intensity burning in his.
“No matter what happens or what anyone may say, know that I plan to stand by you. Through anything.” Dimitri raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss along her knuckles. “Until the bitter end.”
Byleth couldn’t look away. She knew that his comfort, his support, his vows were meant for another. For his Professor, whoever she might be. Another woman had won his affections. Another woman was supposed to stand by his side. The very thought made her feel sick, bile rising painfully in her throat.
Because Byleth desperately wished she really was the person Dimitri thought her to be. To have someone waiting for her, someone who cared, someone who understood and would help her to achieve her goals. Someone to keep her from falling into the cold loneliness that awaited, who looked at her with such warm fondness in his eyes…it made her chest ache with longing.
Jeralt was gone. But perhaps she could keep living, if only there was someone waiting to reach out a kind hand.
Dimitri sighed, close enough that it reverberated through her body. “I have bothered you with my ramblings long enough, Professor. Please forgive my rudeness.” Before she could protest, he took a step back and released her. Byleth shivered at the loss of his warmth, already feeling lonely and adrift. Dimitri smiled, but it looked forced. “I will cover for you with Lady Rhea and everyone else. Please, take this time to rest. I will return in the morning.”
Byleth watched as he turned away to leave, her hands clenched at her sides. That awful emptiness reared up inside her once again. It overwhelmed her, cutting off her breath. Dimitri took another step closer to the door, and Byleth looked deep into her heart, just like he’d said. And there she found a truth, painful but strong.
She didn’t want to be alone.
Without thinking, Byleth reached out and grabbed the end of Dimitri’s cape. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes wide with surprise.
Speaking was difficult – harder than anything she’d ever done. But Byleth forced the words out.
“Stay. Please.”
Dimitri’s shock softened into understanding. He closed the distance between them in an instant, asking no questions as he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her in close. Byleth snuggled her face into his broad chest. Beneath her cheek, she could feel the rapid beat of his heart, steady and soothing despite its fast pace. And after a moment, she wrapped her own arms around his waist.
A hug. No one had ever hugged her other than Jeralt, and even then it had only ever been rare occurrences. She’d never had the desire to embrace anyone else, never saw the point in getting so close. But standing there, wrapped in Dimitri’s arms, Byleth finally felt safe.
“I will always be by your side, Professor,” he murmured into her hair. “Forever, if you will have me.”
It was a nice thought. Byleth desperately wished that it was true. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be, not that Dimitri knew that. Byleth tried to ignore the prickling sensation in her eyes and made herself focus on the present instead. She didn’t know what would happen next, but for now she was safe and comforted, held by a boy who had promised her the world.
As her eyes began to drift shut and her limbs grew heavy, Dimitri picked her up with surprising ease and carried her over to the sofa. Even through the haze of sleep, Byleth felt a brief spike of fear that he meant to abandon her, but Dimitri continued to hold her snug against him as he settled down on the sofa. Nestled on his lap, her head firmly pressed to his chest, Byleth finally allowed herself to drift off into sleep. A hand stroked through her hair, gentle and comforting.
“Sleep, Professor. I will not leave you alone. I promise…”
Byleth woke up slowly. She was lying on the cold hard ground, her limbs splayed out awkwardly around her and her head spinning with disconnected thoughts. Everything hurt. Everything felt wrong, though she didn’t know why. Groaning, she forced her eyes to open.
Dimitri stared back.
His striking blue eyes widened with surprise when she moved. “Oh! You are alive. I had thought…”
“You…” Byleth mumbled. It was hard to speak, her mind once again sluggish and disoriented. Where was she? Why was Dimitri here, crouching in the mud beside her? And where was Jeralt –
Byleth gasped for breath, ignoring Dimitri’s worried exclamations as she forced herself upright. Despair crashed back down over her when she saw the body lying nearby. Too weak to stand, she crawled to his side and grabbed his arm, but Jeralt still didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Not when he was dead.
Byleth stared down at his body dully, feeling empty and lost.
Her attempt to change time really had been for nothing.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Dimitri said quietly, that familiar note of understanding in his voice. He placed a gentle hand on her back.
Slowly, Byleth turned her blank gaze upon Dimitri. If her father was still dead, still exactly as he’d been when she tried to grasp Sothis’s magic, then surely all that had passed in that room must have been a dream. And yet…Dimitri knelt beside her, the sympathetic look in his eyes painfully familiar.
Although…on closer inspection, Byleth realized that he was different. His features were sharper and his hair was longer, the armour he wore far more ornate than the outfit he’d worn in her memory. But he was still unmistakeably Dimitri. The man who had held her and comforted her, who’d cared so much for her that he’d pledged to stand by her until the bitter end.
Except this Dimitri didn’t look at her like she was the most important person in his life, Byleth realized with a painful twist of her stomach. His expression was kind, but it wasn’t familiar. He didn’t know her. She was nothing to him. And for some reason, that realization made her eyes burn.
Alone. She was really, truly alone.
Dimitri frowned, his bright eyes intently following every twitch of her face. “Are you injured, Miss?” he asked, concern clear in his tone. When Byleth didn’t respond, Dimitri reached for one of her hands, as gentle as she remembered when he rested it on top of hers. “I am not a healer, but one of my comrades is. Rodrigue should not be far away – though Felix is sure to scold me for running off in battle again…” Dimitri trailed off, but his smile was reassuring when he met her gaze. “I shall return as soon as possible, Miss. Please, wait here.”
With one last pat on her back, Dimitri stood and turned to leave.
But Byleth reached out and grabbed the end of his cape. Dimitri paused, his expression confused when he looked back over his shoulder.
Byleth was alone. But she did not want to be. Not anymore. She would choose her own path, one with Dimitri at her side.
“Stay. Please.”
Dimitri’s eyes softened. And he crouched back down in the mud beside her, pulling her into his warm embrace.