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“Aha! This is nice.”
Dimitri whirled around at the foreign sound of Felix’s surprisingly cheerful voice. The last time Dimitri had heard Felix that happy was when they were ten, when Glenn grudgingly allowed them to tag along for his duel with Ingrid’s oldest brother. What could have put him in such a good mood?
Another wave of surprise hit Dimitri when he saw the source was none other than their professor, looking on impassively as Felix unwrapped a gift— a whetstone, the pricey, two-toned kind they only made in Aegir. Until this very moment, Dimitri had thought her devoid of feeling or empathy, incapable of a thoughtful gesture that could brighten someone's day. The only emotion the Ashen Demon had thus far inspired in her students was terror, or perhaps an uneasy appreciation of her undeniable skill.
But today was apparently an exception. She’d made someone happy. And Felix, of all people. Would the sun set in the east tonight, too?
Felix hurried to the corner of the training grounds to retrieve the steel sword he’d recently been entrusted with. It hardly needed maintenance, having not seen a single battle yet. But his former friend went to work polishing it with gusto. He was even humming a strange little melody Dimitri had never heard before.
“Training?”
The sudden appearance of the professor at his elbow startled an embarrassing yelp from Dimitri’s throat. He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as he replied.
“Indeed. Well, I’ve only just arrived, but that is why I am here. Will you also be training, Professor?”
Unnerving as she might be, she was an unparalleled sparring partner. After mere weeks under her tutelage, he could feel himself getting faster, sharper, more adaptable.
His ghosts nodded approvingly. She would help Dimitri become skilled enough to avenge them. And perhaps he could also learn to adopt her ruthless indifference, so he could cut down whoever stood in his way.
“I came to give Felix a gift,” she answered.
“I saw,” he said. “He seemed quite pleased with it.” There was an awkward silence the professor didn't seem inclined to break. Unable to stand it, he blurted out the first thing he could think of. “When is your birthday, Professor?”
She shrugged. “Not sure.”
“You’ve never celebrated your birthday?!” he asked in disbelief.
She scrunched up her nose, and he was momentarily struck senseless at how cute the gesture was.
Wait, what? His professor, the Ashen Demon, cute?
She continued, unaware of how Dimitri’s entire world seemed to tilt on its axis. “Ashe told me about giving gifts.”
“That sounds like him,” he said, recovering a bit of composure with the opportunity to discuss someone else. “Ashe has a kind and noble heart.”
“It’s difficult to say how you feel. I always seem to get it wrong somehow,” she said. “But a gift speaks for me.”
He failed to suppress a bark of laughter at her expense. “What exactly does a whetstone say?”
Her minute facial expressions were hard to read, but the slight thinning of her lips made her look almost hurt that he didn’t understand. “He never wants anyone to get injured protecting him,” she said. “So he needs to stay sharp. To stay safe.”
To stay safe. It was the first time he’d heard her voice such a sentiment. It wasn't clear what she thought about the students foisted upon her, if she thought of them at all. Apparently, she cared about the Blue Lions more than her stoic face had led Dimitri to believe.
Then again, there might have been signs before. Before their first mission in Zanado, she had said, “I’m a bit concerned.” At the time, he’d interpreted the statement as disappointment in their skill level, assuming the worst of what she left unsaid.
During the mission a few days later, she had delivered a sharp rebuke to a Knight of Seiros that had left Annette unguarded. Nothing bad had happened due to the man’s error— well, there was an archer secretly advancing on their location, but the professor had taken them out before Annette was truly in danger— so the punishment had seemed excessive to Dimitri, even cruel.
But perhaps it had been his own prejudice that had blinded him to the truth. She had simply been worried about Annette being hurt, and that fear caused the professor to lash out. Had it been anyone but the Ashen Demon, it wouldn't have been a surprising reaction.
Honestly, he felt like quite a dastard for making such judgments based on appearances alone. Dimitri himself proved the foolishness of such thinking; he looked the part of the perfect prince, but beneath the surface, he was a monster.
He resolved to think more critically before jumping to conclusions in the future.
Feeling guilty, he reassured her with a smile that hopefully didn't look too forced. “I’m sure Felix knew just what you meant, Professor.”
Dimitri stood scowling with his arms crossed over his chest at the professor's side as she lectured Sylvain. The constant skirt chasing was bad enough, but since their confrontation with Miklan, Sylvain had started to act out in the classroom, too.
“This is your third exam in a row that you have scored exactly 69%,” she said with a sigh, her distinctive flat tone somehow more menacing than if she had yelled. “One might think you were intentionally aiming for that score.”
“Professor,” Sylvain crooned, his painted-on smile fraying at the edges. “Do you really think a good-for-nothing like me is capable of a complicated scheme like that?”
She didn’t answer, but her unimpressed expression clearly said that yes, she absolutely did.
“If I may, Professor,” Dimitri interjected. She nodded and leaned back in her chair. Over the past few months, the teacher and house leader had built— well, if not a friendship, certainly a mutual trust in each other’s judgment. “I believe the only thing that will motivate Sylvain to improve his academics is a draconian approach to limiting his... extracurricular activities.” He cleared his throat, too embarrassed to mention the sexual escapades he was an unwilling witness to night after night, as Sylvain’s neighbor. “A strict curfew, and my partner for chores assignments for the foreseeable future. I shall ensure he does not have the energy to go out carousing in the evenings.”
The corner of the professor’s mouth twitched, like an aborted smile. Had he said something amusing?
“Aw, come on, Your Highness!” Sylvain whined. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
The professor rummaged through her bag until she found a package wrapped in brown paper. “Since your birthday is coming up, I’ll make you a deal.”
Sylvain grinned. “As merciful as you are beautiful, prof—“
With a raised hand, she signaled he wouldn't weasel his way out of a punishment that easily.
“I said a deal, not a pardon.”
Dimitri feigned a thoughtful gesture, a hand moving to his face to cover his smirk. After a rocky start to her teaching career (to be expected when she had no experience or even advanced warning of her sudden change of profession), she had struck the perfect balance of friendly and stern. He delighted in seeing her personality come to life, especially her dry sense of humor.
In contrast, Sylvain wrung his hands, wondering what unusual conditions she would put on his freedom.
She tapped the box on her desk. “I was going to give you this board game for your birthday. If you can beat me, I’ll lift the curfew, and you’ll have extra stable duty with Ashe instead.”
Sylvain nearly fell over himself in his haste to accept her offer.
Dimitri frowned. He trusted her judgment, of course, but this seemed much too lenient. Her plan came into sharper focus, though, once Sylvain tore through the wrapping paper, revealing the game.
It was tawlbwrdd. How she had obtained a copy of the obscure game from northern Faerghus was a mystery he was eager to solve. It wasn’t played anywhere else because no one cared for its unbalanced— one might even say unfair— rules. The attackers had twice as many pieces as the defenders, and the defending team had a vulnerable king piece whose capture ended the game.
He’s not sure exactly what it said about his homeland that they so readily embraced a game where the odds were stacked against them, as well as presenting the king as weak and vulnerable. Perhaps it felt more realistic that way. There had been a long string of Faerghan kings that did not live up to the ideal set by Loog, breeding discontent and infighting.
So it made sense that Dimitri, another ineffectual leader, lost by a wide margin every time he played. The attackers were always able to form a blockade around his defenders, tightening the noose by picking off his pieces one by one.
A successful defense relied on a certain brutality, a willingness to sacrifice some pawns for the sake of the king. Dimitri could never stomach the thought, and so all his pawns fell because of his hesitation. Just like so many good men had in Duscur.
As an attacker, the other player always managed to poke holes in his siege. Or, on the rare occasion he accomplished that much, they would form an impenetrable tower defense around their king while the other defenders harried his blockade.
The tower defense. Realization washed over Dimitri, and he struggled to hold in his laughter.
It was the exact strategy they intended to deploy if they faced any hostility next month when escorting Lady Rhea across Magred Way to meet with the Western Church leaders. More importantly, it was the subject of their last exam, which Sylvain insisted he was too foolish to understand.
Dimitri smiled at the professor, once again humbled by her keen intellect and powers of observation. Her deal would force Sylvain to admit that he understood the strategy and had purposely failed the exam, or submit to his punishment. The redhead’s stricken face indicated he, too, realized he had stumbled right into her trap.
Just as countless dead men had underestimated the Ashen Demon, Dimitri and Sylvain had once again underestimated Professor Byleth Eisner.
The professor’s gifts were so universally beloved that she stopped limiting them to birthdays. And Dimitri no longer needed her to spell out her intentions. The messages practically shouted themselves now that he knew what to look for.
A book of legends of chivalry for Ingrid after the disastrous incident with that slimy suitor at Aillel told her not to give up on her dreams. A watering can for Dedue reminded him to cultivate his own interests outside of his self-imposed duty to Dimitri. An armored bear stuffie for Lysithea, with the casual remark that the professor had bought one for herself, too, so the young student didn’t feel ashamed to accept a “child’s” gift.
It was hard to believe Dimitri had ever thought her uncaring. He’d seen the glow of humanity emanate from her hundreds of times, wrapped up and tied with a bow.
Dimitri raised his head at a knock on his door, and a terrible twinge of pain accompanied the action. How long had he been bent over his desk? He’d sat down a bit before midnight to compose overdue letters to each of the houses of Faerghus...
And now the pink light of dawn was filtering through his window. He ran a weary hand down his face. Dedue would be displeased indeed that Dimitri had forgone another night of sleep, but what else was he to do? He had to atone for the years he had neglected his responsibilities.
His visitor knocked again, exactly as before, with no impatience or annoyance making the raps sharper or faster. A thrill of anticipation brought a smile to his face at the thought of who might be on the other side of the door.
Even with no sleep, there could be no better sight to start his day with than the lovely visage of his former professor.
Not many would notice the subtle hints of exhaustion on her face, but they stood out stark as bruises to Dimitri: the slight down turn to one side of her mouth, the way her head lolled barely to the left as if her neck was sore, the blinks that lasted just a moment too long. A familiar guilt flooded him. She had given so much of herself to this war, even when he had repaid her with nothing but cruelty. She could have woken up that fateful day of the millennium festival, taken one look around at the bloody wreck of Fòdlan, and headed to Morfis or Almyra.
But to his eternal gratitude, she had stayed. And here he was, paying her back with sleepless nights as he tried to make up for his negligence. He must find a way to ease her burden.
“Ah, Professor! What can I do for you this morning?”
“I’m sorry to ask a favor on your birthday...”
He blinked, trying to account for the days in his mind. “Actually, I had quite forgotten—“ did he imagine it, or did she just roll her eyes?— “Nevertheless, there is no time for frivolity in these dark times. I am at your disposal.”
She shook her head, but her expression had softened. “Someone forgot to lock up the pantry last night, and animals destroyed a lot of food.”
“Oh, that is concerning. What do you require from me?”
“Gilbert is working on rerouting some supply routes to the monastery, but in the meantime, we’ll need to hunt. I was hoping you would accompany me.”
A day out in the fresh air with Byleth sounded more like a reward than a chore. But this wasn’t a task for a prince. It was well below her status too, and would have been even when she was a professor. Now she was the acting archbishop and commander of the Knights of Seiros. Stocking the pantry was not her responsibility.
As much as he wished to help, he simply didn’t have a moment to spare. His day was booked solid with meetings, and he had to keep up with his training more than ever if he hoped to protect his allies. And the pile of paperwork on his desk would be even taller come tonight.
He opened his mouth to refuse as politely as he could, but when faced with her wide, searching eyes— that verdant meadow he’d found himself hopelessly lost in since his student days— his lips were utterly unable to form the word ‘no.’
“All right,” he said, his mouth working without his brain’s input. “I can spare a few hours, if it will help.”
She positively beamed at him in response, and any thoughts of his many tasks evaporated as he basked in her warmth. All these years, and he was still a fool for her smile.
It was instantly clear that the professor had no need of Dimitri’s assistance. While she favored the sword or magic in battle, her skill with a bow was impressive. Dimitri spent most of his time tending to their horses, which, he had to admit, was quite enjoyable.
The only occasion he was remotely useful was when they happened upon a boar. Those stubborn creatures could be slowed down by arrows, but they still required a spear— one strong killing blow between the eyes, or else they’d shove themselves up your blade to take you to the eternal flames with them.
Felix hadn’t chosen Dimitri’s nickname by accident.
Still, the professor would have had plenty of meat without the boar. He wondered just how much damage those animals had done, because she seemed to be intent on feeding the entire army with their haul today.
Before long, exhaustion slowed his movements, and his head pounded with a familiar pain.
“That should be enough hunting,” she announced, to his great relief. But then she added, “Now, we fish.”
“Surely this haul is sufficient, Professor. At this rate, we may have to go back for another wagon.”
“We can’t return without fish,” she countered.
He huffed, experiencing an unfamiliar emotion, possibly for the first time: annoyance with his beloved professor. This “favor” had cost him nearly an entire day that would have been better spent training or even doing paperwork. It was entirely unlike Byleth to waste someone’s time.
The midday sun was bearing down on him without mercy, his body weary down to its bones. And, well... He didn’t care much about his birthday, but she usually made a big deal about such things; yet here she was, ruining his, seemingly on purpose.
That irritation chafed at him while she readied the fishing poles and fussed over making a comfortable spot for them. He snatched his pole from her petulantly, not looking at or speaking to her. His shoulders scrunched up practically to his ears with obvious tension, like a wild animal with its hackles up to warn challengers away.
It was breaking a promise that he’d pledged to himself months ago, to never treat her with cruelty again, but his bone-deep exhaustion made it impossible to regulate his emotions, even towards her.
She didn’t push him, though. Perhaps his behavior had annoyed her in return because she seemed quite content to ignore him, humming a tune he vaguely recognized as some old-fashioned lullaby.
At least they were out of the sun now, and the breeze off the river felt like heaven’s breath on his face. And, credit where credit was due, the professor had worked a small miracle with the cushions and blankets she’d arranged for him. They had set up near a bubbling rapids— something to do with where a certain fish spawned, maybe, he hadn’t really been listening— and the steady murmur of the clear water cascading over the rocks soon soothed away the worst of his surliness.
Combined with the long day and sleepless night, it was actually becoming quite difficult to keep his eyes open. Luckily, the professor had set his pole up on some kind of stand so that he wouldn’t break it with his grip. So, there would be no harm done if he rested his eyes, just for a moment...
The sun was not in its proper place when his eyes opened back up.
The professor had set aside their poles and was dipping her bare feet into the creek, swinging them back and forth like a child on holiday. The setting sun through the trees cast a bluish hue on her hair, and for an instant, he could almost mistake her for the dark-haired woman he’d met in Remire, if not for her smiling face.
He shouldn’t have been cross with her. Even after all they’d been through, she was the same warm, kind professor that had stayed by his side no matter how little he deserved it. His ally, his friend... perhaps his beloved, he dared to hope, someday.
He could have sat there and watched her like that forever, but her preternatural instincts sensed he was awake within seconds. Her smile brightened a degree when she noticed him, so subtle yet it stirred his heart every time he beheld it.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
“My apologies, Professor. I have left you to do everything.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said with a shrug. Actually, now that the sleep was clearing from his eyes, he saw she wasn’t fishing at all. Despite how strongly she had insisted on bringing back a large catch, there were no fish to be seen, or even a bucket. “It’s what I was hoping would happen.”
He furrowed his brow, confused. “You hoped that I would abandon my share of the task?”
“You needed to sleep. I thought you would have surrendered to the exhaustion hours ago, but as usual, I underestimated how stubborn you can be.”
He reluctantly moved to sit up, his aching muscles protesting every inch of the way.
“Well, I cannot afford a moment of idleness.” In truth, he shouldn’t have even accepted the professor’s invitation at all, but, well... He had quite a weak spot for her. “There is much to be done to prepare for our battle with the Empire.”
“Surely you can put those tasks aside for one day.”
“How I wish that were true, my friend, but the list of tasks that require my attention is seemingly endless. To start, we must absorb the Kingdom knights taken by the Dukedom into our own forces and reshuffle our troops...”
“Sylvain is restructuring the battalions to incorporate the influx of new troops. He should be finished by the end of the week.”
“He is? I did not ask him to go to so much trouble! That is my burden to bear.”
She rolled her eyes, an action so unlike her he nearly laughed. “I asked him to, and he happily accepted.”
“Well, that’s not all that needs to be done.” He began to count on his hands as he remembered the tasks he was supposed to do today, which would now surely result in another sleepless night. “The lords will need to help purge our territory of Imperial forces, and I will use my authority as king to gather forces from various regions...”
She shook her head again. “Felix has to go take care of a few things in Fraldarius, and on his way, he’ll be badgering the lords to contribute their fair share.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Dimitri continued his litany of tasks, though with each one he realized that many of them would have been better delegated than left in his harried hands. “And we’ll have to ask the merchants to lend us the funds we require... Oh, and we must request delivery of supplies at once...”
“Ashe is negotiating with the merchants. I daresay he’ll be able to haggle a more favorable deal from them than you could.” She put her hand up when he opened his mouth to retort. “And Gilbert and Seteth are doing your paperwork.”
“So what am I meant to do then? Nap by the river while others near the burden of my responsibilities?” he snapped, then chastised himself. It had come out much harsher than he had intended. She wasn’t at fault. All this had obviously been arranged because he was failing in his duties. “I assure you, I am fine, just a bit… tired. I must do these things to atone for all the hurt I have caused.”
She sighed. “You still haven’t fully forgiven yourself.”
He had agreed to stop punishing himself after Rodrigue died, but, in truth, it wasn’t so easily done. The pain and the exhaustion felt right, well-deserved justice for the blood on his hands.
But continuing like that meant breaking a promise he made to the most precious person in his life, Byleth. If anything could motivate him to change, it was making her happy. Perhaps he could hold on to that until his heart finally felt that he truly was worthy to live for himself.
She read the conflict on his face and pulled her legs out of the water to come sit next to him. He was surprised when she went one step further and took both of his hands in hers.
“You are vital to the war, of course, but you can only do right by your people if you’re alive. I... we all need you.”
Perhaps it was the hues of dusk, but he could have sworn her cheeks went a bit pink. Her concern kindled a warmth in his chest, and he squeezed her hands back.
“Your words hold some truth. I have been afraid of dragging others down the path I must walk.”
“If this is the path you need to walk, then we'll walk it together.”
Her words were dangerously close to his fantasies of her pledging to stay by his side forever. The hidden desire that had driven him on a mad impulse to buy an emerald ring the shade of her eyes. He kept it in his desk drawer and pulled it out to inspect when his eye became so strained he could no longer read the words on the parchment before him.
“That means more to me than you could possibly know,” he said. “It is a great comfort to have you at my side.”
“I would never leave you,” she said, and it was so close to the confession he craved that his chest ached. He nearly opened his mouth to say something utterly foolish, but a moment later, she was all business again. She gestured to the wagon, overflowing with meat to be cooked. “Well, we’d better get back soon. The others will be waiting for your birthday feast to arrive. As well as the guest of honor.”
“My… birthday feast?” He furrowed his brow in confusion. “I was under the impression that you hadn’t planned anything.”
Hurt flashed across her face. It sparked a memory of the first time he’d seen it, when he had unintentionally mocked the whetstone she’d given as a birthday gift to Felix. How could he have ever thought her cold and uncaring? She had been a pillar of kindness and support for all of them. Of course she hadn’t forgotten.
Another realization struck him a moment later. The long ride, a break from his duties, some physical work, and rest that he desperately needed... Not to mention, she would know that he would throw a fit at the thought of wasting their precious food stores to hold a feast for him.
Despite himself, a wry grin split his face, remembering how she had maneuvered Sylvain into revealing his intelligence back when they were students. Apparently, not even Dimitri was immune to her machinations.
Who was he kidding? She had played him like a fiddle.
“Was this my birthday present, Professor?” he asked.
“That, and...” She reached for something concealed behind her pack, and his breath caught when she presented him with a crown of daisies. She held it out on her open palms, her gaze averted to the side, uncharacteristically bashful. “And this. If you want it.”
“It would be my honor to accept such a precious gift.”
Even sitting down, he was much taller than her, so he bent his head to receive the crown. It occurred to him that if all went according to plan, she would coronate him with a crown of silver and jewels when the war ended. Though he knew he would always prefer this simpler one, made by her own kind, warm hands.
With the tide of the war turned in their favor, it might not be much longer before he could give her a gift for once. It was waiting in his desk drawer, a reminder of what he was fighting for.
He wasn’t sure what he would say when he proposed. Hopefully the right words would come to him, but if they didn’t, his gift should speak for him loud and clear. Just like Byleth’s always had.