Chapter Text
Dimitri rubbed sleep from his eye as he awoke to sunlight shining in his face. A sense of disquiet crept over him as he didn’t immediately recognize the room he was in. While it was scrupulously clean and inviting, vaguely smelling of citrus, it was significantly smaller than the royal quarters in Fhirdiad. It was sparsely furnished, with just the bed, a table with two plush chairs over by the window, a wardrobe, and the bedside table. All of the decor was white accented with a deep blue that, while familiar, was not Faerghus blue, the specific shade exclusively used by the royal family. Nor did the rug, curtains or tapestries bear any traditional Kingdom patterns or emblems. This room was clearly not within his castle, but it didn’t set off any internal alarms either.
After a moment’s consideration, he realized he was in a guestroom at Garreg Mach. He and Byleth had wintered at the monastery for the last several years, usually arriving during the Red Wolf Moon and then returning to Fhirdiad at the start of the Great Tree Moon. But he knew it was currently late in the Harpstring Moon, so why was he still here? The true source of his unease was a nagging instinct that he knew the answer, but he couldn’t retrieve it from his memory.
The door to his left slowly opened and Byleth entered, as radiant and beautiful as she ever was, and all of his worries promptly vanished. He smiled at her. “Good morning, beloved.”
Her mouth curled into a mesmerizing smile, her eyes lighting up. “Good morning, my love.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek as she set the tray in her hands in front of him. “Did you sleep well?”
“I believe so.” Dimitri couldn’t recall otherwise. He could scarcely remember any specifics about last night. They’d had dinner together like usual, and their eldest daughter was there too, and they’d talked about the upcoming St. Macuil Day service. Maybe. It was strangely fuzzy when he knew it shouldn’t be.
The tray had a simple breakfast of toast with butter and jam, a boiled egg that was already peeled, and a cup of black tea. He picked at it mechanically while Byleth sat beside him on the edge of the bed, scrutinizing him carefully. She waited until he’d consumed the food and a few sips of tea before speaking. “You look like something’s bothering you.”
He felt like he was back in her classroom and she’d sprung a pop quiz on him about a subject he hadn’t studied. His face felt hot. “Forgive me...I’m a bit confused about why we’re still at the monastery. Should we not have left for Fhirdiad by now?”
Her eyes turned a little sad. “We agreed to live here from now on, remember?”
Dimitri buried his face in his hand with a groan. “Right, right. Of course.” Now it was clear to him. They’d come to that decision after a lengthy debate. He’d resisted abandoning his ancestral home, but he’d eventually come to understand her point about how taxing the long journey was on both of them and how there was a larger concentration of healers and medics at the monastery, not to mention the milder climate. He gave her a sheepish look. “I don’t know how I forgot that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” She kissed him again, on the lips this time. It was tender and sweet just as always, made even more comforting by its familiarity. “Do you feel like getting up today?”
He nodded. “Yes, very much. It looks to be a beautiful day.” He scratched his chin; his beard felt horribly scraggly and overgrown.
“Would you like a trim?” she asked.
“Please,” he said. “I must look like a wild beast.”
She chuckled as the scruffiness was charming in its own way. It reminded her of Jeralt when he got lax on maintaining his beard. She opened the wardrobe and dug through a compartment in the back to bring out the locked box with his shaving kit. Though he’d tried, Dimitri had never been able to overcome his unease with having blades near his face; only herself and Dedue had ever been allowed the right, and that was only many years after the war. It’d gotten too difficult for him to tidy his beard on his own in the last few years, so sometimes it got a bit unkempt, as her permission was wholly contingent on his mood.
Byleth unlocked the box, took out the scissors, and delicately culled his facial hair, trimming it as close and as tidily as she could manage. His skin was more fragile these days, making the process tricky, and it was why she never offered to shave him anymore. Any nicks or cuts would put an immediate end to the attempt as well. Dimitri kept his eye shut and his fists clenched in his lap as she worked, his breaths slow and measured.
“All done,” she said, mercifully quick as usual. She put the kit away and pulled out a set of his clothes from the wardrobe.
“Thank you.” Dimitri sighed in relief as he briefly rubbed his face, satisfied. Then he stretched his arms and, in a series of careful movements, swung his legs over the edge of the bed to plant his feet on the floor. His hands fumbled with the laces of his nightshirt.
“Here.” Byleth loosened the lacing with ease and helped him pull it over his head.
“Thank you,” he said again. “I am sorry you must fuss over me so.”
“You know I don’t mind helping you.”
“Yes, I know. I merely meant…” He trailed off with a sigh. It was a constant frustration that his body neither worked nor moved the way it used to. It was one thing when he had to hang up his lance or even when stairs became a challenge, but it was another thing entirely when he struggled to do the simplest tasks for himself.
Byleth cupped his cheek and traced her thumb across it. “You would help me if I needed it, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would.”
“Then stop feeling guilty,” she replied. She kissed his forehead. “You’re not a burden, Dimitri. You’re my husband and I love you. I want to take care of you.”
When she started to straighten, Dimitri grabbed her and pulled her back in to kiss her on the mouth. “My beloved,” he murmured. “I truly would be lost without you.”
She smiled, and after a few more quick kisses, continued assisting him with getting ready for the day. She helped him dress, combed and styled his hair, and then fetched him his cane from its place in the wardrobe. It was lacquered oak over a solid steel core, more sturdy and functional than it was fancy, but the Crest of Blaiddyd was painted on it in blue and the steel handle was shaped like a lion’s head to make it distinctly his.
She watched as he shifted his weight to stand, leaning hard on his cane. “Do you need help?” she asked, a barely perceptible worry in her tone.
“I’ll be fine.” Dimitri grimaced as he made the first movement, but he got to his feet and straightened his back with little difficulty this time. He shuffled in place and rolled his shoulders, then offered his arm to her with a smile. “Shall we?”
Byleth smiled back and took his arm. “With pleasure.”
A middle-aged cleric was waiting on the other side of the door. She was a bit stocky, with broad shoulders and a round face to go with her friendly disposition. She smiled warmly and bowed to both of them. “Good morning, Your Majesties.”
Dimitri blinked, trying to place the woman as he thought she was familiar, but it was hard to be sure when all the clerics at Garreg Mach wore the same uniform.
“Good morning, Marie,” Byleth replied.
He tried not to let his chagrin show on his face. Yes, he did know this particular cleric; she’d been his personal medic since their arrival this winter, and she kept his room in order and assisted Byleth with tending to him when needed. “Yes, good morning, Marie.”
“I’ll just pop in and straighten up now,” Marie said. “Have a lovely day.”
It was a short walk from Dimitri’s room to the elevator, a new contraption installed last summer. It was a fascinating bit of machinery, using a simple rope and pulley system to move the platform up and down the shaft. It was not the smoothest ride, since it had to be operated by hand by some monks, but it was certainly preferable to taking the stairs to and from the third floor of the monastery. Within moments they were on the ground level and stepping out into the morning sunshine, just as the bells chimed to signal that classes at the Officers Academy were now in session.
Birds sang, the air was comfortably warm. It was perfect weather for a leisurely stroll across the familiar grounds. Acolytes smiled and bowed respectfully as they passed, always happy to see the king and the former archbishop out and about. Even at their advanced ages, they were a strikingly attractive couple, naturally drawing admirers even without consideration of their status. Their faces carried only minimal wrinkles around their mouths and eyes and neither of them had gone completely gray. Dimitri’s hair had faded into a platinum blonde that looked white in the sun, and Byleth’s hair had paled to a silvery color with a pronounced green hue that he likened to stardust. She personally thought it looked more like the root end of a celery stalk, but appreciated her husband’s more poetic comparison.
Byleth had retired ten years ago, mostly because she was exhausted with politics and politicians, but also so she could better support Dimitri and their children as they solidified the lines of succession for their positions. Their daughter Nadia, their eldest child, had desired to take over as head of the church rather than head of state, which caused an uproar among the nobility, not because of any perceived incompetence from their second child, their elder son Étienne, but because Nadia had the Crest of Blaiddyd, whereas Étienne had inherited his grandfather’s Crest of Seiros. Some of the houses of the old Kingdom and the former Alliance protested handing the crown to someone with the Crest most associated with the old Adrestian Empire, even if he was still a Blaiddyd. A few of them expressed preference for their younger, Crestless son Tristan to be king if Nadia refused the crown, but Tristan too wished to work within the church, nor was he willing to displace his brother. And their youngest child, their daughter Isabeau, while active in politics, bore the Crest of Flames, and she was acutely aware of its significance and feared being elevated as some kind of goddess-queen should she take the throne.
Both Dimitri and Byleth had found the supposed controversy infuriating, but they suspected the root of the problem was the concept of changing leadership itself. They’d been in their respective positions as king and archbishop for nearly sixty years, and there was a lot of unspoken fear that the end of their reigns would mean the end of peace and stability in Fódlan. The unification war still echoed from the past even as the people who lived through it died off. The continent had healed and was flourishing, but it still felt fragile, like a nestling that had only just learned to fly, and it required the correct parents to nurture it to maturity.
Still, with their typical perseverance, they’d managed to reassure all the doubters and settle everything. Nadia took over as Archbishop as she wanted, and Étienne had been king in function if not in title for the last six years. He’d vehemently opposed being coronated when the subject was broached, too respectful of his father to allow himself to officially be the king as long as Dimitri was alive. He’d also admitted privately to Byleth that he was apprehensive about how the public might view him if it seemed like he was usurping the throne of the Savior King, and she was inclined to agree. Dimitri, of course, remained selectively oblivious to how beloved he was by the general populace and had reassured Étienne that it would not wound his pride, but had eventually deferred to their son’s wishes. He remained the king in title and to the public, while Étienne governed from the shadows.
Some traditionalists had bristled at the arrangement, but they eventually came around out of respect for Dimitri, and because it allowed Étienne to better transition into the job without all of the eyes of the Kingdom scrutinizing his every action. A few less scrupulous nobles did attempt to undermine his authority in the beginning, but Dimitri put a quick stop to it as soon as he caught on to their games.
Despite his unofficial retirement, Dimitri had still made himself available for council and of course readily offered aid and advice to Étienne when he requested it, and sometimes when he didn’t. It was only in the last year or so that Dimitri had truly withdrawn from politics, essentially forced out of it as his hands had become too arthritic to write, his vision was getting worse, and he struggled with keeping his thoughts and memories straight when he was tired or stressed. While it saddened Byleth, since she knew how deeply it pained him to leave the role that was such a huge part of his identity, she was more relieved. He’d worked so hard for so many years; he’d earned the right to live the rest of his life free from the burden of kingly duties.
There was a table with two plush chairs arranged for them near the pond and greenhouse, placed in an unobtrusive spot where there was some shade and where they more or less disappeared into the background so as not to draw attention. Neither of them wanted to intrude on the lives of the students, knights and monastery staff as they went about their business, nor did they want to be fussed or fawned over constantly.
A chess board was set up on the table, and upon seeing it, Dimitri moved one of the pawns before ushering Byleth to her seat. “Feeling bold today?” she asked.
“I have no expectations that I’ll defeat you,” he replied as he sat across from her. “But it’s hard to resist the challenge.”
She smiled. Dimitri was actually a better strategist than he gave himself credit for; true, she’d won nine out of every ten matches they’d played over the years, but he was capable of surprising her. He also had a winning record against all of their children except Isabeau, who was good enough at the game to keep Byleth properly humble.
Now that he’d been awake awhile, she could see his mind sharpen while he plotted his moves and adjusted his strategy based on her moves. She won the first round handily, but rounds two and three required more careful thought on her part, and round four had her nervous at points. In their fifth and final round, she inwardly cursed when she realized too late that she’d left an opening and wondered if he’d notice.
He surveyed the board, rubbing his chin, and then carefully moved his queen. “I believe that’s checkmate, beloved.”
Byleth sighed, fond but annoyed with herself. “So it is.”
“You clearly let me win that one,” he said with a faint frown. “You left yourself wide open.”
She shook her head. “No, that wasn’t deliberate; I got careless. Maybe I’m losing a step.”
“You?” Dimitri blinked. “Perish the thought. Your mind is as keen as ever.” He leaned back in his seat. “Thank you for humoring me again. Inept as I am, I enjoy our matches.”
“As do I,” she said. “And despite what you think, you are still a worthy opponent.” She smiled impishly. “But I’m glad you don’t tire of losing.”
He laughed. “Only when it’s you, beloved. If you were Sylvain, I would’ve tossed the board after the second round.”
The kitchen staff brought a light lunch, and they were just finishing their food when the Archbishop herself strolled towards them. Work often prevented her from spending much time with her parents, but she made a point to at least check in with them daily. She waved as she approached, her smile bright. Nadia was their child who looked the most like Dimitri; she had his blonde hair and blue eyes and a similar facial structure, with sharp lines defining her nose and chin. She was also the tallest of their children, standing a whole half head above both of her brothers, but when she matured, her body took on the same soft, buxom curves as her mother. She wore her hair in short, loose waves like her mother too, the one small bit of informality she let show in her otherwise flawlessly proper appearance.
Her husband, Fabian, was from House Gerth, and they’d met when they’d attended the reopened Officers Academy together. He came and went from the monastery often, being Nadia’s most trusted envoy and assistant in church matters. Their three children, two daughters and a son, had largely been raised at Garreg Mach and considered it home, though now they were all grown and scattered across Fódlan raising families of their own.
“Mother, Father.” Nadia leaned down to kiss each of them on the cheek. “Glad to see you outside on such a lovely day.”
“Hello, dearheart,” Dimitri greeted, kissing her back. “Have you been busy today?”
“Yes, there are a lot of visitors for the St. Macuil Day service tomorrow. I’ve been greeting them and holding council all morning.” She smiled. “But right now I’m on my way to the training grounds to inspect some of the new knight recruits, and I wondered if you’d like to join me?”
Dimitri’s eye lit up with obvious interest. “I fear we would be a needless distraction.”
“My presence alone will make them nervous,” Nadia said. “Better they work through those feelings early and learn to stay focused under pressure, don’t you think?”
Byleth was already on her feet. “We’ll be discrete.”
He smiled. “Very well. Then I will gladly escort you both.”
“I have some exciting news as well,” Nadia said as they ambled towards the training grounds. “I got a letter from my grandson, Philippe. You remember; he’s the one who just got married last year, to that nice girl from House Gloucester?”
“Yes.” Dimitri nodded. “Pity we did not attend the wedding.”
“They wanted to keep it small,” Nadia said. “I think I was only invited because they wanted me to perform the ceremony.” She chuckled. “Regardless, he wrote in his letter that he and his wife are expecting a child this summer!”
“That’s wonderful,” Byleth said with a smile.
Dimitri looked awestruck. “Then we are to be great-great grandparents?”
“Indeed!” Nadia exclaimed. “I’ve been eager to tell you since I read the letter this morning. I imagine this will be the first of many more to come of the next generation!”
Dimitri stared ahead vacantly. It was astonishing to consider the size of their family. Byleth had gifted him four children, from whom he’d been blessed with eleven grandchildren and currently fourteen great-grandchildren, and still their family kept growing! It was so much more than he’d ever imagined was possible as a boy.
Lost in his ruminations, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking and his cane caught against a loose cobblestone. He was face first on the ground before he even knew what happened, the wind knocked out of him and his body reeling all over in pain.
“Father!” Nadia knelt beside him, her hands already glowing with holy light. “Are you OK?”
Dimitri grunted, angry at himself for being so careless. Even as he felt her healing magic wash over him, he struggled to catch his breath. She gently rolled him onto his side and he gasped at a sharp stabbing in his chest, his hands shaking as he grabbed the spot. Goddess, had he broken a rib from a simple fall? He tried to speak and his voice came out as a warbled cry.
Byleth pursed her lips and concentrated. A single Divine Pulse now drained her as badly as using multiple in a short span once did, so she avoided using them unless absolutely necessary. The sight of Dimitri on the ground and still laboring after a heal spell told her this was one of those times. She rolled back time just a few moments, erasing his fall and giving her an opportunity to warn him. When time resumed, she was suddenly dizzy and she found herself wobbling, causing her to grab his arm.
“Beloved?” Dimitri asked. “Are you all right?”
“...Yes,” she said, her voice a bit shaky. “Watch your step. The ground is uneven here.”
“Ah.” He glanced down, spotting the offending cobblestone, and stepped over it. “Thank you. That might have ended poorly.”
Byleth smiled to herself, but she had to keep leaning on him the rest of the way to the training grounds as she still felt lightheaded. Thankfully there was a bench under the overhang near the entrance, and Dimitri immediately moved towards it. They both sighed in relief as they sat. Nadia nodded at them and then stepped closer to the group of recruits.
The captain ordered all the recruits to attention, and they immediately lined up and bowed simultaneously. “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” they all said.
Nadia smiled. “Continue as you were. We are only here to observe.”
The captain glanced towards the bench. “Aha, I see we have some extra special guests today.” He bowed and all of the recruits immediately copied him. “Good afternoon, Your Majesties. It is an honor.”
Several of the recruits went wide eyed and murmured excitedly among themselves. Despite maintaining a low profile, it was widely known that Dimitri and Byleth were currently living at Garreg Mach. To the students at the Academy, members of the staff and clergy, and the Knights of Seiros, it was never not a big deal to actually see the king and queen consort in person; aside from still being the public leaders of Fódlan, their reputations followed them everywhere. Every knight, whether under the umbrella of the state or the church, had heard tales of Dimitri and Byleth’s heroism during the unification war, some of which were more embellished than others.
“Please, pay us no mind,” Dimitri said with a smile and a wave. “Pretend we aren’t here.”
He folded his hands over the top of his cane and watched as the captain led the recruits through a series of drills. Tension was visible in their body language and the captain barked at them to loosen up and concentrate. Some of the recruits kept glancing in their direction or at Nadia, earning more reprimand from the captain.
Dimitri chuckled under his breath. “This takes me back.”
“To the Academy?” Byleth asked.
“Yes. All those hours spent practicing here, the excitement and the nerves with trying to demonstrate my techniques. Your endless patience in instructing the Blue Lions.” He smiled. “Especially their house leader. He must’ve been particularly challenging.”
“Don’t be so hard on him,” she said, also smiling. “He was my prized pupil.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling the same warm nostalgia. It’d been tough when she’d finally had to hang up her sword; it’d been an extension of herself since childhood, and she’d resisted it just as fiercely as Dimitri had resisted surrendering his lance. The one solace was the knowledge that they’d worked to make a world without war, and there were others who could fight in their stead to help preserve the peace. The Sword of the Creator had been returned to the Holy Tomb and Areadbhar hung behind the throne back in Fhirdiad, acting as a symbol rather than being used as a weapon.
Her thoughts wandered to faces from the past. Alois had served as her knight captain for twenty years after the war, until he’d graciously retired. Hanneman and Manuela had helped her restart the Officers Academy and had continued to teach for many years until they too retired. Shamir had disappeared after the war and Byleth had never heard from her again, though she caught hints in a few of Catherine’s letters that the two of them were still in contact. Catherine herself had gone into seclusion with Rhea, forever dedicated to protecting her. Cyril had stayed at the monastery as Byleth’s assistant and part time archery instructor, but he’d retired with her permission when she’d disclosed her own plans of retirement to him. She presumed he’d gone to find Rhea, but she didn’t know for certain.
All of them, save for Cyril, were deceased now, or presumed deceased in the case of Shamir. Byleth missed them all, missed their insights, their lively chatter and banter, their very presences.
She missed Seteth and Flayn the most these days. Byleth knew they were still alive out there somewhere; they kept in contact with occasional letters, but they’d left Garreg Mach over twenty years ago, needing to avoid scrutiny about their ageless appearances. Theirs and Rhea’s true nature was a closely guarded secret among Byleth’s family. Someday, perhaps, there might be a world where a Nabatean could exist in public, but that day would not come in her lifetime.
Byleth’s eyelids drooped. Between the warm air, the use of the Divine Pulse, the familiar sound of weapons clashing, and Dimitri’s presence, she found herself teetering on the line between sleep and wakefulness. He rested his head against hers and soon he too was breathing more deeply, his elbows sagging despite his arms remaining outstretched.
When the group exercises were done, the captain ordered the recruits to split off into pairs to spar. Nadia continued to observe them for a time, exchanging a few observations with the captain about everyone’s progress, and then she turned back to her parents. She chuckled to herself when she saw them slouched against each other. It was a familiar sight, as she’d born witness to such things for her entire life, but it seemed even more endearing now that he parents were elderly. They remained ardently devoted to each other no matter how many years passed, the foundation upon which their whole extended family stood.
“Father? Mother?” she asked. “Are you awake?”
Dimitri jolted, spurring Byleth to open her eyes and rub them. “Ah, forgive me, dearheart,” he said. “I must’ve drifted off.”
Nadia smiled. “It’s all right. I hope you at least were satisfied with what you saw of the recruits.”
“They have potential,” Byleth said. “They will make fine knights, assuming they put in the work.”
Dimitri gestured towards one pair. “That one there, is she from Ifan?”
“Yes, she is.” Nadia tipped her head. “How did you guess?”
“Her lance technique looks to be of their typical style,” he said. “It’s good to see it is still being taught.”
“Impressive as ever, Father,” Nadia said. Despite her occasional worries about his mental acuity, the way he readily threw out observations like that proved his mind was still sharp. “It seems everyone is finishing up.”
“Ah, that’s good,” Dimitri said. “This bench is a bit rough on my back.”
“Mine too,” Byleth agreed. Her stomach growled loudly. “It must be close to dinnertime.”
“Is your stomach ever not eager for a meal, beloved?” he teased.
She gave him a playful nudge. “Will you join us, Nadia?”
“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” Nadia said. “I have to write my sermon for tomorrow. I’ve been so busy this week I haven’t had a chance to so much as draft it.”
“Why not designate one of your aides to draft it?” Dimitri asked.
Nadia burst out laughing. “Father, I can’t believe you of all people would ask me that!”
His brow furrowed. “It’s a valid point, is it not?”
Byleth chuckled. “You must see the irony. Was there ever a time you designated someone else to write an important document for you?”
Dimitri blushed. “I, er...I simply meant that I would hope Nadia would not follow my admittedly poor example. You shouldn’t overwork yourself, dearheart.”
“I will take that under advisement,” Nadia said with a slight smirk. “Do you need any help getting up?”
He rolled his shoulders, letting out a puff of air as he stiffened his arms and leaned hard on his cane. He hated how he had to actively think and plan when performing simple movements like standing. Though it’d been this way for several years now, he’d never gotten used to it, nor stopped resenting how much he had to fight with his own body to get it to work how he wanted. His knees trembled as he began to rise and he grunted in discomfort, but he managed to straighten himself.
Byleth felt her own back creak as she stood. Sitting on that bench for so long had definitely not been wise. She stretched her arms with an annoyed sigh at how stiff she was.
Nadia touched a hand to each of their shoulders, a glimmer of white light passing from her palms. She smiled as she saw the tension in their faces relax. “Thank you for coming. I think the recruits got a thrill out of it.”
“No need for the flattery,” Dimitri said with a smile. “I’m sure to them we just look like a rickety old couple whose time has long passed.”
“Nonsense,” Nadia said. “I expect my knights to respect their elders, especially when they’re my parents.” She gave them each a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good night. I’ll see you at the service tomorrow, if not before.”
“Yes,” Byleth said. “Don’t stay up late writing your sermon. Use one of my old ones if you want. I recycled mine all the time and no one noticed.”
“Mother!” Nadia feigned shock. “If I were to do that, I’d have to employ some heavy editing. Your sermons were very…you. Someone would definitely notice.”
Dimitri chuckled. “I look forward to hearing your sermon, whatever the truth of its origins. If anyone asks, I’ll pretend I never heard this exchange.”
The dining hall was quiet, as it was still rather early. One of the staff waved to them as they entered and followed them to their selected table in one of the back corners. “Hello, Your Majesties!” the woman greeted. “We have a special available tonight along with our usual fare. It’s a hearty stew of Albinean moose meat with cabbage and turnips seasoned with spices from Duscur.”
Byleth’s mouth was already watering. “I’ll have a bowl of that, the pickled rabbit skewers, a side of vegetable pasta salad, and a plate of sweet buns. Please.”
Dimitri stifled his laughter, still charmed by her voracious appetite. “The usual for me, please.”
The woman nodded and scurried away. ‘The usual’ was just a bowl of onion gratin soup, so termed because that was what Dimitri requested for dinner a minimum of four nights a week. Byleth frowned slightly but said nothing. Even after regaining his sense of taste about a decade after the war, his appetite had remained capricious, and it’d gotten even worse in recent years, to the point where the list of things he’d reliably eat at all was incredibly short. She’d given up admonishing the lack of variance in his diet, as it was more important that he actually eat in the first place.
That still didn’t stop her from employing various strategies to encourage him to eat more. The stew was delicious and hearty, and while it didn’t capture the taste of Dedue’s cooking, it did invoke the spirit of it. She waved a spoonful of it in front of Dimitri. “You should try this. You can taste the Duscur influence.”
He considered the spoon for a second before taking it. “Hm. It is rather good. I wonder how Dedue would critique it?”
Byleth nudged the bowl towards him, silently victorious when he took a second spoonful. “We can ask for another bowl if you want.”
He placed her spoon back in the strew. “No, just a taste is enough for me. But thank you for sharing it, beloved.”
She suppressed any indications of her disappointment; the moose meat would’ve been particularly nutritious for him, but there was no use trying to force the matter. He did at least finish the entirety of his soup and helped himself to one of the sweet buns. She always requested the latter for dessert because it was rare that he wouldn’t partake of one.
By the time they finished their dinner, the dining hall was starting to get noisy as students and knights came to eat, so they headed back towards their spot by the pond and greenhouse. They sat there and relaxed while their food digested. Byleth had taken up knitting to keep her hands busy after she’d had to give up her sword. She still wasn’t very good at it, limiting herself to simple items and patterns, but the scarf she was currently making at least didn’t have any dropped stitches. Dimitri had a book on the history and culture of Morfis that Étienne had given to him. He used a magnifying glass to ease the strain on his eye when he read at length, but even with that aid, it took him much longer to get through books than it used to. He found he had to re-read paragraphs or even full pages multiple times before he felt like he’d absorbed and processed the words.
As such, both his eye and his mind soon grew weary, and he set the book and the lens on the table and yawned. The air had become chilly with the sun dipping low in the sky and he shivered. That was another recent development; it surprised him how sensitive he now was to the cold when only the most extreme winter weather used to affect him. He noted Byleth clenching her arms tighter to her sides as she finished off her current row.
“It’s getting cold, beloved,” he said.
She nodded. “I’m getting tired too.” She set her knitting in its basket, tucked his book and lens with it, and then placed the basket under the table. “Time to head back?”
“Yes, I believe so.” Dimitri stretched before carefully standing again, grimacing as a spasm went through his lower back. He again extended his arm to her with a smile and she gladly took it, leaning her head against his shoulder as they strolled.
The return walk to their rooms was always slower going than the journey from them, as everything was more difficult at the end of the day. Along with having to think about simple movements, Dimitri also despised how quickly his body wore out now. A quiet day like today made him as tired as he used to feel after a full day’s march with the army, to say nothing of how much his joints ached or how his thoughts got murky. Byleth too found that simple activities depleted her energy in ways they never used to and she needed more rest in general. She suspected that the nature of her Crest and her non-human heart were shielding her from some of the other maladies that plagued Dimitri, since she did not rely on a cane for balance and so far she had no persistent pain in her bones and joints. The worst she felt was stiffness when she stayed in one place for too long, but it would go away once she started moving again.
It was fully dark and the lanterns were lit by the time they reached the third floor. Marie was waiting in front of Dimitri’s door. “Good evening, Your Majesties,” she greeted with a nod. She stepped aside and ushered them within. “I trust you enjoyed your day?”
“Quite,” Dimitri replied. He grunted as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of his bed, his joints making audible creaking noises. He handed Byleth his cane to put away, and Marie proceeded to unbutton the top of his shirt.
“Any soreness today?” she asked as she pressed two fingers against his carotid artery.
He scoffed. “I’m afraid there’s always some piece of me that aches these days.”
Marie paused, her lips moving in a silent count. “Sixty-eight. Well, at least your heart’s still going strong, Your Majesty.” She felt around his neck and shoulders, looked closely into his eye for a few seconds, and put a hand against his back and asked him to take a deep breath. Once satisfied with his vitals, her hands glowed with powerful holy light.
Byleth’s magic had lost a lot of its potency in recent years and it was also more physically taxing for her to use it, which necessitated delegating the task of Dimitri’s pain management to someone else. Marie was both Nadia’s own protege and a bearer of the Crest of Cethleann, making her the ideal choice for his personal medic. Dimitri certainly appreciated Marie’s abilities, but he secretly missed Byleth’s magic. Maybe it was his imagination or his own bias, but there was something unique about her healing spells. They carried an extra bit of warmth and felt like they went deeper, soothing not just his physical form but something in his soul as well. He’d always been able to isolate her magic from that of anyone else, even back during the war when in the thick of battle. Every time he’d felt her power seep into him, it’d given him a surge of strength.
Nonetheless, he sighed in gratitude as Marie’s recovery spell penetrated his body, erasing the pain embedded deep in his bones. The relief was always temporary, but it at least helped him sleep better. “Thank you, Marie.”
“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.” She turned to Byleth. “Do you need any further assistance, Milady?”
“No, we should be fine,” Byleth said. “Thank you.”
Marie nodded. “I hope you sleep well, Your Majesty. Someone will be posted by your door if you need anything during the night.”
“Appreciated,” Dimitri said with a smile. “Goodnight.”
Byleth finished assisting him as he got ready for bed, mostly just by taking care of the fasteners on his clothes and removing his shoes. She ran a comb through his hair a few times for her own pleasure more than for his, and then helped him settle into bed. After pulling up his covers, she curled up beside him and he wrapped one arm around her.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked.
“Yes. Thank you as always, beloved.” He kissed her cheek.
Dimitri had instituted their ‘sleep divorce’ around five years ago. His lifelong struggle with night terrors had gradually improved after the war ended, but they’d never truly gone away. For reasons unknown to him, their frequency had started increasing again after his eightieth year, but the real problem was that he didn’t automatically wake up from them anymore, as his advancing age led him to sleeping much more deeply. As a result, he’d wildly flail in his sleep and sometimes unknowingly hit her. After the one time he’d struck her hard enough to give her a nosebleed, he’d retreated to the bed in the adjoining queen’s chamber that until then had never been used in all of their years of marriage.
Byleth had repeatedly tried to get him to resume co-sleeping; she hadn’t been badly hurt and she missed having him beside her at night, but he’d adamantly refused. His nightmares actually got even worse after their separation, but as much as he desired the comfort of her presence, he would not sacrifice her well being for his sake. They did try sleeping in separate beds in the same room a few times, but once he’d figured out he was still disrupting her sleep, he’d insisted on separate rooms and it’d been that way ever since.
Her putting him to bed at night was a compromise. She hated not being there to soothe him amid his nightmares like she always used to, so the least she could do was ensure his nights started well. Dimitri had offered only a mild resistance; a piece of his pride bruised at such a childish arrangement, but falling asleep in her presence all but guaranteed he’d get at least half a night’s worth of quality rest. He remained, as ever, grateful for her patience and cleverness in working through problems caused by his personal defects.
“I enjoyed today,” Byleth said as she laid her head on his shoulder.
“As did I.” He idly rubbed her arm. “Any day I get to spend with you is a gift.”
She smiled. “Nadia’s news was surprising.”
“Indeed it was. I hardly believe it’s possible that we could have a great-great-grandchild. It doesn’t seem like that long ago we first became parents.” Dimitri paused, pensively staring at the ceiling. The silence stretched long enough that she thought he’d drifted off, so she was surprised to see he was still awake when she lifted her head.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said, a bit of melancholy in his voice. “I was only wondering...if we’ll get to meet the baby.”
Byleth furrowed her brow. “You mean you’re wondering when we’ll meet the baby.”
“Ah, yes. Forgive me for misspeaking.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m merely being impatient. Unless we’re up for a trip to Gloucester, I imagine it could be awhile before Philippe can make a visit to Garreg Mach.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not so long. He’s fond of Nadia, and she’ll be eager to see the baby too. We have to be patient.”
“You’re right, as always.” He embraced her, pulling her in for a kiss, his fingers combing her hair. Every time he kissed her felt like the first time, for it was always warm, exhilarating, and perfect. Even after all their years together, it still made his emotions well up from within whenever he thought about how deeply he loved her, how lucky he was that she’d chosen to spend her life with him.
Byleth smiled as they broke away, then huffed in amusement as he abruptly yawned. She kissed his forehead. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.”
“Thank you.” Dimitri kissed her hand, then shuffled his body slightly to adjust his position and closed his eye. “Goodnight, beloved. Sleep well.”
She laid beside him, idly running her thumb across his hand, and silently waited for the telltale signs: his hand going slack in her grip, his head lilting to the side, and his breaths getting slower and deeper. Once sure he was asleep, she carefully rose from the bed, taking a moment to tuck the covers around him.
“See you in the morning,” she murmured as she slipped out the door.
Byleth sighed to herself as she made her way to her own chambers, tired but satisfied from another good day. After some trial and error upon arriving at Garreg Mach this winter, she had more or less figured out how to best manage Dimitri. She hated thinking of it like that, but there were necessary procedures to follow for everyone’s sake. He was most prone to confusion in the morning, so it was critical that Byleth or Nadia be the first person he saw each day, preferably right as he woke up. He didn’t always recognize Marie or any of the other clerics, and the perception of being among strangers, even friendly ones, could make him agitated or even aggressive. There was a near miss this winter where he’d attacked Marie with his cane, and a much scarier incident where he’d gotten hold of one of the blades from his shaving kit and Byleth had had trouble getting it away from him. Both events required use of a Divine Pulse, the first to save Marie from a concussion and the other to prevent a bloody injury to Dimitri’s hand that Byleth still wasn’t sure was accidental. She chose to believe it was.
His shaving kit was kept locked and hidden from that point on, and his cane was put away in the wardrobe at night to make sure it was out of his reach until his mindset could be determined. Byleth would bring him his breakfast and only let others into his room once she knew he was calm and aware of his surroundings. In hindsight, she wished she had thought to bring along some of the paintings or tapestries from their quarters in Fhirdiad, but when they’d left, she hadn’t thought that relocating to another, equally familiar location would prove so disorienting to him. The best she could do was ensure his room was recognizable as one at the monastery, and that it was kept austere and very clean so there were no sights or smells to trigger a negative reaction. Though he sometimes forgot why he was at Garreg Mach, he did at least instinctively know it it a safe location.
With those precautions in place, his bad days were infrequent. Byleth suspected that his mental state on a given morning directly correlated with how well he’d slept, but she couldn’t confirm her theory. If he greeted her calmly with a smile, as he’d done this morning, she knew it would be a good day. Any confusion could be cleared with a nudge, and he’d be his usual warm, earnest self, the Dimitri whom everyone admired and whom was easy to love.
Bad days began with not only confusion but also distress or even belligerence. More than once, he’d argued with her that he’d never agreed to stay at Garreg Mach and would demand that they return to Fhirdiad immediately. Other times his thoughts tangled further in the past and he’d forget he was retired. He’d insist he was missing an important meeting or he’d frantically search for an imaginary document. Sometimes she could talk him down from these delusions and get him to recognize reality, but other times it was better to play along in order to prevent upsetting him further. She’d find fake documents and take fake dictations, and once he was satisfied he’d done enough ‘work’ for the day, he’d calm down and act normally, often forgetting what had upset him in the first place.
There was one morning last moon where she’d entered his room and found him on the floor, growling threats at the underside of the bed. The details were murky to her, but Byleth had gathered that he’d fallen out of bed during a nightmare, and something in his dream had convinced him there was an assassin hiding in the shadows. Even after proving there was nothing there, he’d been in an angry, paranoid state all day, reminiscent of some of his worst episodes back during the war.
The absolute worst days, however, began not with anger or aggression, but melancholy. He would refuse to leave his room or sometimes even his bed, refuse all food, and refuse her presence, closing himself off the same way he did during those dark days long past. Byleth would loiter in the hall with his door cracked open, and she’d hear him muttering apologies that were not for her ears but for the ghosts that still haunted him. The phantoms were never satisfied, eternally demanding more of him despite how much he’d accomplished and excoriating him for the sin of aging and the limitations that came with it. It broke her heart that a part of him was still so tormented, still seeking an absolution he’d never get.
Thankfully, his periods of melancholy didn’t linger; he wouldn’t necessarily be chipper the day after an episode, but he’d at least be willing to eat and talk to her again, and he’d steadily improve from there, though sometimes she knew he was forcing himself into a better mood for her sake. He’d often spiral into apologies for burdening her, lamenting both his increasing frailty and his emotional volatility. Byleth did find the fluctuations of his moods exhausting at times, but that’d been true for as long as she’d known him. Though his mental state was more erratic these days compared to how it’d been since the end of the war, he was still her Dimitri, her dearest love, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere other than at his side.
His one prolonged stretch of bad days coincided with Byleth catching the flu over the winter. She’d been confined to bed for ten days and the medics had forced them to isolate from each other to prevent Dimitri from contracting it as well. Nadia took over tending to him, which itself was not a problem, but he got more upset the longer they were apart, eventually convincing himself that he was being lied to about her condition. He’d tried to break into her room at several points, only relenting when she’d spoken with him from the other side of her door. It still hadn’t reassured him, probably because she’d sounded terrible. By the seventh day, Nadia reported that he’d grown despondent, refusing all food, sleeping little, and so disoriented that he’d started mixing up Byleth’s flu with her pregnancies or even battle injuries from the war. By their last day apart, he’d become so stressed that he’d failed to recognize Nadia and had spent the day lashing out in barely concealed fear at all the unfamiliar faces around him.
When Byleth’s symptoms had finally cleared and they’d reunited, Dimitri had clung to her like she was the source of his next breath. Amid his usual torrent of apologies, he’d tearfully admitted that he’d been terrified she would die. She couldn’t dismiss his fears as irrational; it was the sickest she’d ever been and it took her a few weeks to regain her full strength. It etched their frailty into the forefront of her mind, making her more determined to savor this time. After all their years spent raising their family and leading Fódlan, all she wanted was to spend her so-called golden years doing simple things with Dimitri at her side. She wanted to dote on him, be doted on by him, and prioritize what they most cherished.
And that included a very special gathering she was trying to organize.