Archive of Our Own ^beta

Snow fell over Garreg Mach as the new day began. It was the 23rd of the Ethereal Moon, a Tuesday. Fortunately this period of the year was characterized with a lack of classes for once, since the entire monastery was focused on its own celebrations, namely its founding day which was happening overmorrow.

Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd let out a big yawn as he did one final stretch before leaving his dorm room. This time of year was always quite busy for him. There was of course his birthday, which happened on the 20th. It was when he finally came of age and he would soon have to ascend the throne. They had him taken back to Fhirdiad for that one. It was definitely one big celebration, albeit one where he couldn’t help but feel like he was wasting everyone’s time and resources at every waking moment. The voices in his head only furthered that idea.

After that he was eventually flown back to Garreg Mach where he and the other house leaders assisted in organizing the coming founding day. He spent much of Sunday doing exactly that, moving all sorts of heavy materials across the monastery. Thanks to his crest, he had the strength of ten men, if not ten horses. It was certainly handy having him around, being able to carry a wagon overflowing with things from the entrance to the cathedral.

Of these objects was a peculiar stash that Claude and the deer were tasked with placing creatively around the monastery. Mistletoe. Dimitri had heard of them, adorable little plants associated with the yuletide, though he never really thought much of them.

“They’re more of an Adrestian tradition,” Edelgard rolled her eyes when she explained it to him. “The more annoying variety, no less.”

“Yeah Dima, it’s been gaining some traction in the alliance too,” Claude wiggled his eyebrows as a mischievous grin appeared on his face. “If you’re ever standing under one, you and the other lucky fella’s gotta smooch!”

Claude then held a mistletoe up between him and Edelgard, giving her a wink. She recoiled, taking a step back before grabbing his face and pushing him away. “Cunning but not sharp,” she scoffed, “you can’t force a mistletoe, it has to be hanging off something.”

“I suppose I should make sure Sylvain doesn’t get his hands on these then.”

Dimitri rolled his neck as he went downstairs. He was the only student here, which wasn’t too unusual. He always tended to sleep late. A lot of the time he tended to just work with the few hours of sleep he did get, but there were moments like this where he could sleep in. Well, relatively speaking, anyway.

Dedue would usually wait for him, no matter how long it took, but fortunately that’s stopped. He’d since been appearing more in the kitchen or the greenhouse rather than wherever he was. Hopefully there was still some food left in the cafeteria. Unless it was Flayn’s turn at the master stove, in that case it was probably just going to be him.

As he went down the steps however…

“Gah!” came a yelp.

Dimitri saw a purple blur appear suddenly and bump into him, though he didn’t really fall over. It kinda felt like someone threw a bundle of straw at him, really. He looked down at the petite entity that ended up getting knocked flat on her rear as a result of their collision, only to see the recluse Bernadetta, uncharacteristically outside of her room.

Well, they did say this time of year was full of miracles.

“Bernadetta!” Dimitri knelt down and extended a hand. “Sorry about that, I didn’t see you. Glad to see you out of your room, at least.”

“I-it’s okay… Dimit- Prince Dimitri!” Bernadetta corrected herself as she rubbed her head and tried to get up, only to fall back down. Bumping her head into Dimitri’s chest was like running straight into a stone wall, which she may or may not have done once or twice before when fleeing from Hubert’s terrifying presence whenever he appears out of thin air behind her. At night, no less. 

She gently took the prince’s armored hand, cold iron on her colder skin, and he helped her up. She weighed virtually nothing, then again, most things did to a bearer of The Crest of Blaiddyd. 

“Uh…” Bernadetta’s lips quivered.

“Hmm, what is it?”

Bernadetta pointed upwards, having noticed a peculiar thing as Dimitri helped her up. He would look at the ceiling, and there it was. a small green plant hanging above them, mischievously placed right at the stairway entrance. On one end, it affects the nobles who pass by those steps, on the other, it’s only if they notice them. It’s like a hidden explosive which triggers only when detected.

“Oh,” said Dimitri. “It’s one of those mistletoes.”

Bernadetta covered her face. This could not be happening! Dimitri looked at her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Bernadetta, take it easy. We don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to,” he said, “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“But it’s a tradition…” Bernadetta pressed her index fingers together as she looked away. The last time she ever found herself underneath a mistletoe was all the way back with that one boy, and then never again. Since then, there wasn’t a moment where she gazed upon a mistletoe where her mind didn’t go back to that kiss. It was something that crept into her writing, manifesting as an energy that predicated every facet of her work. The elusive creature that was love, so concealed and dedicated in its ambush-based modus operandi that many believed it to be outright illusory in nature, if not fictitious in concept.

“Well, it never said what kind of kiss,” said Dimitri, looking for a way to resolve tradition and consent. It did make him wonder about what things would change if he were king. Faerghus, like Adrestia, had traditions of its own. When he finally sits upon the throne, would he have the strength to face them? It was something that pecked at his brain every now and again, and now that he was of crowning age, he could put it off no longer. Still though, stubbornly, he tried. Dimitri took Bernadetta’s hand, “may I kiss your hand?”

Bernadetta nodded, and Dimitri would do so. A small peck on the back of her hand so soft and small. She eeped, turning red like an apple, two distinct sensations swelled within her as the second passed. On one end, she felt as if she were back in her father’s garden again, a liberated and electrifying feeling, the type that boy made her feel. As if for a moment she’d become a marriageable girl. The other, she felt like a lamb, with a lion licking away at her leg as she found herself in his clutches, ready to devour her whole.

The second would pass however and Dimitri simply stood before her. He looked deep into her wide eyes, her expression frozen solid.

“Uh… sorry for inconveniencing you, Bernadetta,” Dimitri did a small bow in an attempt to lessen the blow. “I’ll be more aware of my surroundings next time.”

The expression on Bernadetta’s face did not fade as her rigid legs goose-stepped, as if taking a mind of their own as her body spasmed lightly here and there in her hurried beeline back to her room, which wasn’t too far from the steps.

Dimitri sighed to himself as he looked back up at the mistletoe. He jumped up and grabbed the plant, ripping it from the ceiling. His strength of course would cause his hand to crush the delicate green. He would scatter it on the grass as he dusted his hands.

“No more of that,” Dimitri told himself. That was certainly one way to start the day. At least he’s gotten it out of the way. Now life can leave him alone for the rest of the day.

Flayn was indeed the one at the master stove today. Dimitri could tell since the cafeteria was emptier than usual. Even at this hour, the cafeteria wasn’t this empty. This level of scantness was the clear indicator of her presence. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, Dimitri, I still have a lot of my cooking!” said Flayn as she filled his plate with some kind of fish, unrecognizable due to being overstuffed with seasonings and sauce. “I’d say I saved up for you but… well it seems I just have a surplus! I know you like my cooking so it’s not too bad.”

“Hah. Yes, Lady Flayn,” Dimitri nodded as he watched Flayn place it down the center table rather than the one closest to him. He sauntered over and took a seat. 

“Heh, lady,” Flayn twirled her hair with her finger. “I guess I am.”

Dimitri paid no mind as he bit into the fish. He couldn’t taste anything, but he could feel some of the seasoning. Some of it. Having no sense of taste had some benefits. He found a solid latent function in the fact that he can only ever really interpret eating as something for nourishment. The sweetness of cakes and saltiness of certain seafoods were barely memories now. Like dusty fingerprints on a forgotten bottom drawer.

As he did, Flayn sat there in front of him, elbows on the table and her head on her hands, cupping her cheeks. She watched him wolf down each bite, and she’d grant him more. It was like having Raphael or Ingrid in the kitchen, though those two seemed more abstemious when it was her turn at the kitchen. She watched Dimitri eat everything, which was easy since she made the effort to debone them for him.

To think such a pretty prince was so voracious. Then again, the Crest of Blaiddyd was likely the reason. It gifted (or alternatively, cursed) the bearer with exceptional strength, but it likely warped his appetite as well. He needed mass and energy for his extensive training regimen on top of that.

“You’re always eager to finish your plate, huh, Dimitri?”

“Not everyone gets to eat, I don’t like being wasteful, Miss Flayn.”

“Don’t get formal with me now,” she gave him a wink. “You’re really down to eat anything I make, huh? No one does that quite like you. I’m sure the Faerghusi are in capable hands.”

Flayn reached out to the side of Dimitri’s lips, wiping off a mix of powder and sauce and then putting it in her mouth before striking him with a smile. “That’s about it. I don’t really cook as much as I normally do when it’s my turn anymore. I think I’ve caught the message.”

“La- Flayn…” Dimitri frowned. “I… I don’t really know what to say. I suppose I can have Dedue help you-”

“No, Dimitri, it’s okay,” Flayn smiled. “You’re enough. This calls for thanks.”

“Oh please, Flayn, there’s no need. You’ve thanked me enough,” Dimitri held up a hand and gave a courteous smile. Once he came back from Faerghus, Flayn gifted him with a big bowl of fish soup. It really helped him with all the work he had to do. “If anything, I should be thanking you.”

“Well…” there’s one way you can thank me, Flayn said as she twirled her hair. Her eyes then flickered upwards, causing Dimitri to look up and realize that right there on the cafeteria’s rafters was yet again, another mistletoe.

“Not again…” Dimitri muttered under his breath.

“Just a small one, I promise my brother won’t get mad!”

“I… okay…” 

Dimitri watched as Flayn laid forward her cheek. He would slowly reach over to give her a peck, only for her to mischievously turn her head last second, causing him to give her a smooch right on the lips. Dimitri froze as Flayn closed her eyes. She could feel how overpowering her spices were, yet it paled in comparison to the magic of the moment.

The magical moment would be broken however by the sound of a familiar voice.

“FLAYN!”

The two broke their kiss and looked with fear as Seteth appeared at the cafeteria entrance.

“Da- brother!” Flayn yelped as she panickedly pointed upwards. “It’s not what it looks like! Dimitri and I were-”

Seteth looked up and saw the mistletoe and then sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, “this is exactly why I don’t want you out and about! I told the archbishop this was a concerning idea, and my fears have come true.”

“But brother!” Flayn whined, licking some of her spices off her lips, hoping the taste of Dimitri’s lips lingered along with. 

“No matter,” Seteth walked over and grabbed Flayn by the wrist. “If it was going to be anyone, I suppose Dimitri is on the more desirable end. I’d rather not be Mr Gautier.”

“Sorry about the trouble, Master Seteth…”

“It’s fine, Dimitri,” Seteth sighed. “Just… just don’t let it happen again. And tear that mistletoe down.”

“Yes sir.”

With that, Seteth left with Flayn in begrudging tow. Dimitri sighed as he got up, jumped up a solid height (which was possible thanks to his strength) and tore the mistletoe right off. He then went off to the sink to put his plate in. It was common courtesy to wash them, but considering he’d just break them (again), he just left it there as gently as possible.

Dimitri then sighed. Two kisses now. One of them lips to lips no less. That would’ve been his first kiss had it not been for… certain events in the past. It appeared the holiday spirit wanted the real deal out of him. Well it did now. No more mistletoe shenanigans from this point onward!

The shenanigans did not end.

Dimitri felt as if he was the toy of some cruel god. Tormenting him for having fun the past few days. It disliked the reprieve he had from the everlasting pain that followed him everywhere following the tragedy. 

He currently sat there, rubbing his cheek and feeling Constance’s blue lipstick on it. She invited him for tea, which seemed alright at first. Professor Byleth had invited her into the Blue Lion house and it was the perfect opportunity to get to know her better. Plus there was no chance for mistletoe to ever hang up above them if they were having tea out in the open.

Constance was a lot less confrontational out here in the open. He’d heard word that she acts differently when indoors or at night, but out here she seemed so… tame. Not just tame, she seemed all lethargic and meek. She honestly reminded him of Marianne. Fortunately, he was good friends with Marianne, so he was open to just let her talk about what she wanted to talk about. In her case, the destruction of her house. Having lost family members of his own, he could understand the fear and pain.

Oddly enough, the voices’ ruinous comments seemed to aid him in knowing the right thing to say.

Then mistletoe carried by the wind started falling down slowly above them.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“No, it’s tradition,” was her answer. Okay, now the universe was just toying with him. The girls can’t use this as a reason forever.

Constance stood up slowly, almost dragging herself over to Dimitri. Her first attempt at the kiss ended up on his right eye, though he was able to close his eye quickly in time. The next one she planted a big one right on his cheek.

Eventually, Constance bid him farewell. Despite the lack of classes, Constance seemed keen on furthering her skills in black magic. Dimitri took off his gauntlet and rubbed his eye. This cannot be happening, except of course it was, because prior to this, there were even more encounters.

Purchasing gear wasn’t new to Dimitri, he’d usually get a new batch with the professor every Sunday, most of them really to account for him breaking them. He didn’t get to do that recently however since he was busy with his birthday, and the professor was tasked with something regarding her father’s company. The mercenaries were finding themselves more and more intertwined with the Knights of Seiros as the moons passed, enough to make one wonder if they were doing it for the money anymore or if they’d confused themselves. The only one still not definitively caught in the confusion of lines was Jeralt himself, no matter how chummy Alois became.

Dimitri pulled a cart of weapons with him in the monastery’s market place, making bulk purchases before heading back. Though on his way back, he would end up passing by Hapi.

“Heya Didi,” she waved. “Good to see you in great spirits. Guess you’re happy that you’re gonna be king real soon, huh?”

“I suppose I’m in a more anticipative mood,” Dimitri shrugged. “I’m just restocking weapons is all. No matter how much I take care of them they always end up breaking in the end. I wonder how much more I’d end up buying if I wasn’t so careful!”

“Word’s starting to spread that you’re in a friendly mood too,” Hapi winked.

“Friendly?”

“You know…” Hapi skipped around Dimitri and picked up one of his spears. “Mwah mwah.”

“Hapi!” Dimitri blushed. “That’s… those were just accidents.”

“Those? There’s another? How many girls have you been playing tonsil hockey with this morning, Didi?”

“Nothing! Forget I said anything.”

“Oh no,” Hapi darted in front of Dimitri as he tried to storm off with his cart of weapons, using the spear she took as an additional boundary. “You’re going to fill me in on this, Didi. C’mon, spill the beans. For me.”

“I…” Dimitri sighed. “It’s nothing big. There’s mistletoe lying around and I accidentally ran into it twice this morning. The first one was with Bernadetta, but fortunately I merely kissed her hand, and Flayn on the other hand was… more avaricious than expected.”

“Wow. To think Big S’ daughter would be so ballsy.”

“Sister. Flayn is Seteth’s sister. They get mixed up all the time.”

“I’ve seen large age gaps between siblings, Didi. Unless their father’s the type to have a child younger than their grandchild, I think they’re just hiding something.”

“It is unkind to spread rumors, Hapi,” Dimitri shook his head. “You’ve gotten what you want out of me, is there anything else?”

“Yeah,” Hapi smirked as she held the spear upright, though now something hung from the spearhead, a humble green ornament. Mistletoe.

“Oh come on,” Dimitri groaned.

“Pucker up Didi,” Hapi winked. “Be three for three.”

“You can’t weaponize mistletoe,” said Dimitri. “It has to be hanging from over us, if it was allowed to be wielded, everyone would be doing it and no one would be safe.”

“Oh you mean like this?”

Hapi then stuck the spear on the pole of the stall they were right next to. 

“Hah! Now it’s hangin’!” said the shopkeeper, “rules are rules, your highness!”

Dimitri facepalmed. This could not be happening. That probably wasn’t even fair since she was still in a way wielding it!

In the end, he relented. Hapi got on her tiptoes and landed a kiss right on Dimitri’s neck, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to spike up.

“You only kissed Bernie-bee’s hand, meaning kisses can come any which way, I thought I’d switch it up,” Hapi winked at Dimitri as she then walked off, proud of herself. Dimitri sighed as he yanked the spear out from the pole, only for it to break.

“Who the hell uses mistletoe as a cake topper?!” Lysithea whined. There was a small bakery in the monastery market and they were selling cakes. It was a usual haunt for Lysithea and the baker thought it’d be funny to prank his regulars with mistletoe cake topper.

Even worse, Dimitri felt a sudden totally-not-contrived urge for something sweet. Probably as a means to drive away all the energy from those kisses he’s been getting, and he just had to appear when Lysithea got a mistletoe-cake-topped bonus cake.

“Just… get it over with,” Lysithea huffed as she crossed her arms. “Tradition shmadition. Don’t get any funny ideas just because you’re a prince.”

Dimitri sighed. Four now. One more and he was going to lock himself inside his room. He looked down at Lysithea, who was pretty small. Then again that went for a lot of girls at Garreg Mach. Or maybe he was just tall. He would bend a little bit and give Lysithea a quick peck on the forehead, earning oohs from the others in the bakery.

Dimitri opened and closed his ungloved hand as he fiddled with his gauntlets. He ought to have these repaired too. He scratched his cheek as he thought about the wild experience he’s had so far today. He seriously needed to be more careful. At least here in the Knights Hall there couldn’t be any mistletoes. Claude and The Golden Deer would never be allowed to hang those here without drawing the ire of the Knights of Seiros.

“Hey kid,” came a gruff voice. Dimitri knew whose voice that was. Seasoned, tempered, irreverent. It was Jeralt, his professor’s father. He turned his head and looked up at the man. “Odd seeing you moping around here instead of training,” Jeralt pointed behind himself with his thumb at the targets on the other side of the hall, “those are usually loaded with spears whenever you’re here.”

“Oh I was just thinking is all, I’ve got a lot on my mind, Sir Jeralt.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Jeralt put his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be king soon. Technically speaking, you’re the richest man in Fodlan when that comes. Since land is the ultimate wealth and the king is the landlord of landlords. A nice bit of solace as you find yourself thrust into all sorts of responsibilities.”

“Yeah, a lot of them,” those weren’t really what was on Dimitri’s mind. Not right now, anyways. They normally were, intensifying every single day, but not this time. Right now he was just thinking of girls and kisses and how to avoid them to stop making them feel uncomfortable. “How do you manage?”

“Hah, me? I can’t help you there, sport,” Jeralt said as he walked to a nearby seat and sat down, placing a spare of his signature coat on the table nearby. “I’ve led the knights and my mercenaries for years, but being a king is different. I wouldn’t even know where to start. But I’ll say this, I think you’re on the right path.”

“I am?”

“In a way. You like to get your hands dirty with work, you care, you talk, you don’t seem as sniveling as the other two.”

“I wouldn’t call Edelgard sniveling.”

“But she is over-eager for something, now, isn’t she?”

Dimitri responded with a frown.

“Now that I think about it, maybe I do have one bit of advice to tell you,” Jeralt adjusted himself in his seat. “Have someone.”

“Hmm?”

“Have someone. I think that’s something I can say that’ll do you some good. Have someone. To love, I mean, someone that makes your heart beat, as my wife used to say,” Jeralt gazed into the open fire of the Knights Hall. “As king, it’s easy to say you do what you do for the people, for the kingdom, for the future, and all that. I think that too. As a captain, I just think I’m doing it for my employer, for my men, for the cause we’ve been paid coin to tackle. But it’s really not that strong. As undermining as it sounds, you need something less vague and more alive when you’re put in a position like this. When I was captain of the knights, I fought for Sitri, and when I roamed with my mercs, I did it for my kid.”

“Less vague and more alive…” Dimitri echoed Jeralt’s words. 

“Yeah, someone that’ll look out for you,” Jeralt laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “someone you can look out for too. I remember being that way with my wife. I haven’t really shared this before.”

“You don’t have too, Sir Jeralt. You owe me nothing. I owe you, if anything. Professor Byleth’s done nothing but help me and my Lions excel.”

Jeralt let out a small chuckle. “Easy on the flattery, save it for the elbow-rubbing at Founding Day,” the mercenary crossed his legs. “I remember spending the holidays with her. We found ourselves under the mistletoe plenty of times, I like to think we weren’t trying and the goddess was the one behind it all but, well, I have a feeling she was hungry for it.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Every time I was back from training, or fending off bandits, or clearing the surrounding area of wolf packs. There was always some sort of mistletoe she stowed away somewhere. It’s a pretty silly tradition, but it’s the silliness that really drives you in the end,” Jeralt suddenly turned his neck, causing several audible pops. He drove two fingers into the back of his neck and pressed down. “Drives you forward. Drives you mad. Either way it’s better than just staying still. A carriage is only worth a damn when it’s moving.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for your counsel, Sir Jeralt.”

“Well it’s all I can do to help, Faerghus has gone through the ringer and then some. Maybe with you in charge things will finally get better,” Jeralt got up and pat Dimitri on the shoulder. His eyes looked into the distance of the hall, “say, do me a favor, will ya?”

“What is it?”

Jeralt grabbed his spare coat. “Wear this for me.”

“Huh?”

“We have somewhat the same build, I’m sure it’ll work. I’m just curious about something.”

“Uhh… okay.”

Dimitri did as told. He never really thought of orange as his color, but it was certainly a neat look. It made him look like Jeralt, only less scarred and with brighter hair, and also lacking his pauldrons and vambraces. Well, until Jeralt handed it over to him. 

They fit alright. That was all he could really say. Jeralt looked at him and gave a smile. “Lookin’ good, imagine what Byleth would think if she saw you like this.”

Dimitri thought about it. It’d probably earn a laugh from the typically unexpressive woman.

“Wait here, I’ll be back.”

With that, Jeralt exited. Dimitri assessed himself for a bit. He was wearing the Jeralt the Blade Breaker’s armor. That was pretty cool. He could only imagine what tales this armor’s gone through, or at least this ensemble, the pieces were definitely replaced with time. Still, the spirit remained. Just out there, riding on a horse, leading an army of sellswords in the name of the highest bidder, fighting who knew what.

The only thing Dimitri was the shield Jeralt sometimes carried on his back, which would totally help him if he got hit with a surprise attack. He then heard a knock up above. Dimitri looked up at the ceiling rafters only to see an arrow with a mistletoe attached to it.

“Oh no.”

“Captain Jeralt!” Leonie squeaked as she quickly and unconvincingly discarded a short bow. “Fancy seeing you here! It’s- DIMITRI?!”

“Uh… hey… Leonie…” Dimitri scratched the back of his head. “There is a perfectly good explanation for all this.”

“Only I get to wear Captain Jeralt’s armor!” Leonie pointed at herself, a contentious look upon her face. “You’re definitely looking around to steal his things, aren’t you? Thinking that because you’re going to be the king soon you can just do what you want!”

Then, Leonie gasped. She looked up above and realized she walked right under the mistletoe she totally-did-not-100%-swear-to-the-goddess-right-hand-on-the sacred-texts fire. “You tricked me! Words have gotten around that you’ve been scoring kisses! You knew this was the only way you could use traditions to get mine!”

“Leonie, I’m fairly sure you just tried to-”

“Op-op-op! You’re not turning this on me, you cheat!” Leonie pressed her finger on his chest. “You’re not getting a kiss out of me that easily! This is solely for-”

“I’m back,” said Jeralt as he walked back in with a shield. He was honestly getting really amused at how Dimitri somewhat resembled him. Now he actually wanted to see Byleth’s reaction, only to see his protege having appeared. Under a mistletoe no less. “Oh. Heh.”

“C-Captain Jeralt!”

“Rules are rules, Miss Leonie. Can’t be a good mercenary if you don’t keep your word.”

Leonie sighed. She would reach out for Dimitri and pull him close, giving him a peck on the cheek. Then she’d jump up, yank out the arrow, bow to Jeralt, and scurry off.

“I think it’s best I take this off now.”

“Hah. Alright, I guess we’ve had our fun with it. If your hair was a little dirtier you’d look like me from behind,” Jeralt chuckled as he pat Dimitri’s shoulder. “I could use a body double. Never know when someone’s gonna sneak up on me.”

“Achoo!” Monica sneezed as she passed by.

“Gesundheit,” Jeralt waved his hand, the girl bowed and walked off. 

Annette sang to herself as she watered her plants in the greenhouse. The entire place was really coming along nicely even as winter’s bite gnawed at the monastery in every direction. Everyone’s plants held strong as the Ethereal Moon marched on, many of them holding out until spring where they could bloom.

Professor Byleth was certainly one of them, having a green thumb as seen with the plethora of diverse plants. Hers were nearby, as were Dedue’s. Though as she assessed her plants, she couldn’t help but notice some new ones as well. They were on hanging pots suspended on the greenhouse walls, well, the ones that weren’t made of glass, anyways. They were all stringy and green, almost like abandoned grass rather really.

Strange. Annette hummed a tune as she walked over to the hanging pots, some of them had holly attached to the sides of them so they were clearly for the holiday season. She decided to get on her toes, reaching out to carefully take one off and hold it in her hands. There was a label, at least, that was nice. It said:

Mistletoe cactus.

Oh. 

This was part of the mistletoe thing the monastery was holding. They normally didn’t look like this, but this was clearly a variant. Maybe the monastery accidentally bought some and decided to keep it here.

Well, it was probably best to just put it back. The professor and Dedue entrusted her with watering their plants for them for the day, whoever owned this little one probably wouldn’t like it if someone watered their plants for them the wrong way. Honestly she shouldn’t have even taken it off its place.

Annette got on her tippy toes again. It was a real pain being short sometimes. In her attempt however, she would lose her balance, leaning forward. Annette would manage to prevent herself from smashing herself into a bunch of wallplants, throwing herself back, but causing her to stumble backwards in the process, the plant of mistletoe cactus still in her hands.

“Annette!” called out a voice. As she tripped backwards, a pair of arms appeared to catch her right before she hit the floor, a gauntleted hand managing to catch the potted plant.

“Oh, Dimitri!” Annette smiled. “Thanks for the save!”

“No problem Annette, I was just headed back to my dorm and I thought I’d check on the professor and Dedue’s flowers here in the greenhouse.”

“Always so thoughtful, your highness,” Annette smiled. “So… are you going to let me stand now?”

“Oh, right,” Dimitri said a little embarrassedly as he allowed Annette to stand. He then looked at the plant he caught, and read the name.

“Oh.”

Annette giggled. “Well, your highness, rules are rules,” she shrugged. “It can double as a thanks for the help.” She then gave Dimitri a quick peck on the cheek, causing him to be flustered once more. He was really racking up a number of these, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

Dimitri would hang the plant back where it belonged and then bid Annette farewell. The girl left to ponder about being able to get away with kissing the prince.

“Oh no you’re not! Back! Back, Boar! Back! Back I say!” Felix growled with reddened cheeks as he pointed at Dimitri with a wooden training sword.

Dimitri was at the Officers Academy, which due to the holiday wasn’t really populated. The classrooms were mostly empty and Dimitri thought he’d get some of his and Dedue’s things which they might have left, they were in a bit of a rush when his birthday was coming up, not to mention the tasks upon his return.

Anyways, en route to the classroom, he stumbled by Felix who was probably headed out to the training yard, cueing the sudden outburst and the unsheathing of wooden swords.

“Woah, easy now, Felix…” Dimitri held his hands up.

“I have no idea what you’ve been planning, boar, but I won’t be part of your little bestial kissy conquest,” Felix spat. His eyes gestured up, and Dimitri’s gaze followed, realizing that had he walked the sword-and-arm’s distance between him and Felix, they’d be under the mistletoe. The tradition seemed to know no gender, so he’d be obligated to kiss Felix, or Felix him.

“I assure you, those weren’t intentional.”

“Nobody gets that many mistletoe kisses before noon,” Felix glared at him. “Walk around me, because I totally don’t want your bestial lips all over me, boar!”

“Alright, Felix, there’s no need to get so ill-tempered,” Dimitri said as he walked out onto the courtyard grass and around Felix. He had a frown on his face, Felix still really hated his guts. He wondered if a holiday miracle would come and allow him to see the man rather than the boar again. Rodrigue was a brother to him too.

“Yeah, that’s right! Walk around! It’s not like I wanted a kiss from you or anything, b-boar!”

Felix then stormed off, leaving the mistletoe hanging up above.

Dimitri sighed as he eventually entered the Blue Lions classroom and was met with the sight of Mercedes. Just Mercedes. She was by herself, working through some of her sewing materials, putting them all in a box while a stack of books, undoubtedly related to either religion or sorcery, also stood nearby.

“Oh, hello Dimitri,” Mercedes waved at him before immediately putting a pair of scissors into her sewing kit. Yeah, that was definitely for the best. 

“Morning, Mercedes, by any chance have you seen some notebooks here?”

“Oh, you mean these?” Mercedes pulled out a book strap containing three notebooks filled with all kinds of notes. Undoubtedly Dedue’s. 

“Yes. Those are the ones, thank you,” Dimitri smiled as he took them. “Best give these back to Dedue. I don’t think he’s noticed yet, I think it’s best that he does not clamor at night where his notes are.”

Mercedes simply nodded before returning to her own organization. Dimitri looked at his desk and found nothing. Guess he was all set. Could’ve sworn he had some diagrams or maybe a whetstone here, but it seemed everything was accounted for. It was just Dedue’s notes.

“That’s about it,” Mercedes spoke to herself as she closed the box of sewing materials. She’d put her books on top of them and then pick them up. “I’ll be leaving, Dimitri.”

“That’s fine. I’m leaving too,” said Dimitri. “May I carry your stuff for you?”

“Only if you promise not to break them,” Mercedes teased. Dimitri nervously chuckled, feeling a bead of sweat fall down his head. He took the kit and the books and followed Mercedes back to her dorm. 

They decided to take the path that led to the main hall rather than the one which went around it. Maybe they’ll pass by some friend as they do, assuming they weren’t all at the training yard. The Faerghus Four, Dedue, and Ashe tended to be there often. In doing so however…

“Guys look out!” Caspar said, pointing up top. 

“Hmm?” Dimitri and Mercedes looked up, where a familiar festive green plant ornamented the ceiling of the classroom hallway. 

“Oh my,” Mercedes blushed.

“Oh come on,” Dimitri closed his eyes. “I just avoided that!”

“I dunno Dimitri,” said Linhardt as he stood beside Caspar with crossed arms. “Word’s gotten around that you’ve been using the mistletoes to your advantage. I expected this out of Claude given he’s organized where they are, and Sylvain given he’s… well, Sylvain. But it’s clear you’ve figured out a kind of modus operandi.”

“I have not!”

“I dunno Dimitri, it seems like it,” Caspar cackled.

“Pay them no mind, Dimitri,” Mercedes smiled as she placed her hands on his shoulders. “The tradition didn’t say anything about what type of kiss, right?”

“I… yeah.”

“Well here’s one from even further north of the continent, something I learned during our brief time in Gautier lands,” Mercedes pulled Dimitri in and rubbed her nose on his. A Srengi kiss. Interesting. Dimitri smiled, “yes, I suppose that will do. Sorry to bring this upon y-”

“Nevermind. That’s no fun.” Mercedes pulled Dimitri in and gave him a kiss on the lips. Dimitri’s eyes widened. He could’ve crushed the kit in his hands in panic but instead he would drop them, only for a silvery figure to appear and catch them.

Dimitri stood there as Mercedes kissed him. Frozen, he watched the figure that caught the books and sewing box, placing it back in his hand.

It was Jeritza, starting daggers right into his soul. A deathly gaze that made his blood run cold. Jeritza disappeared as swiftly as he came, and eventually Mercedes broke the kiss.

“At least I can brag to the sisters that I kissed the king,” Mercedes smiled, teasing Dimitri before continuing to walk off. Dimitri shook himself a bit before jumping up and yanking the mistletoe off the ceiling, crushing it (all while not dropping the stack) and then just exhaled. 

Now the goddess was just being cruel.

Dimitri couldn’t help but feel all jittery at all he’s gone through today. He’s racked up about eight kisses, and it was just about to be midday. He was living the dream of many men his age (apart from getting to be king), but it just didn’t sit well with him. It probably had to do with the fact that they had to do it, and for all he knew, they were probably doing it because they didn’t want to anger Faerghus’ upcoming king, especially if it came at the cost of disadvantaging their house.

It was a silly thing to think about, stacking the odds against a house or people because they did something that besmirched his image, but he’s read about past kings and emperors alike, and that level of power centralized around one man will always be one clouded by emotions and inner personal desires. It made him wonder the same thing many others wondered. About the place of kings in how they ruled over men. They were favored by the goddess, but who was to say the goddess did not favor the people? Kings were there to serve their people above all else, and he sought to follow that example, yet one was left to wonder if a history where that has not been the case was case enough to do away with the throne.

If that were to come, he hoped it did not come in the form of blood. Not solely because the royal family would be massacred under that context, but because of the pain that would take to lead to that. The starving poor, the filthy and homeless, the forgotten. Concealed by the walls of opulence so the lavish parties within would never see them.

It wasn’t that far off from what Faerghus was suffering now. War, regicide, plague…

He hoped it’d come through dialogue. Slowly but surely, the people can learn with schools and be tended to in hospitals raised by the crown itself. Though of course, no ruler with that much power would relinquish that kind of control. Where the people could think and were capable of things apart from grueling labor. To reduce the grip of the crown, or do away with the crown himself in hopes that the system would not immediately fall into chaos from factors both within and without his territories.

Was he going to be able to do it? Be the first?

Or was he simply being naive? Thinking he can just march in with a mission, trample everything, set up what he wanted, and leave and say all chaos was solely that of the people’s?

Dimitri sighed. Heavy was the crown, and he wasn’t even wearing it yet.

Right now, he was alone at the cafeteria again. Dedue was the one on the master stove this time around. Turns usually started at noon and ended the next morning, hence why Flayn was there for breakfast earlier in the day. The cafeteria was full until eventually it wasn’t, with only a few people lingering now.

Dimitri took a scoop of his cheesy verona stew as the cold winds blew in.

“Brrr…” Dimitri heard, and he looked to see Petra a few tables over, shivering. The Black Eagles were kind enough to supply her with a wolf fur coat to fight off the cold, which due to her Brigidian upbringing she never really got accustomed to. 

“Your Highness,” Dedue’s voice then came, “how are you liking your stew?”

“It’s fantastic as always, Dedue.”

Dedue smiled and nodded. “It is a pleasure to appease.”

“Don’t say it like tha- nevermind. Dedue, you know my bear coat? The small black bear one that I just have somewhere at the bottom of my bed?”

“I recall it somewhat, yes. A short-lived gift on account of you getting a brown bear cloak not too long after.”

“Can you get it for me?” Dimitri pointed at Petra with her thumb, “I thought I’d help a fellow student out, even if she’s not of our house.”

“Of course, your highness,” Dedue bowed. “I will aid you in your amorous conquest.”

“I- huh- wait, Dedue! That’s not what this is about!”

“You do not need to disguise your ambitions, your highness. There is no motive I will not assist you in.”

And Dedue was off. The dorms were close to the cafeteria and Dedue obviously had a duplicate of a key to Dimitri’s room. The only reason he tended to stay outside his door rather than just show himself in was because he did not wish to overstep his bounds to his lord. Which has certainly come to bite Dimitri in the ass sometimes, namely times where Dedue really should’ve just waltzed in and woken him up on the days he was sleeping too deeply due to being awake all night.

Dedue eventually returned with the coat. Dimitri got up and walked on over to Petra, it was clear she needed it more than he did. Being Faerghusi, he wouldn’t really need these clothes until much later into winter, and as Dedue said, he already had a better one, on top of not really having any shortage of them. He was a prince, the world tended to just spoil him with gifts. Now if only it’d do the same for those that weren’t.

“Petra, was it?” Dimitri said as he walked on over to her.

“Hmm? Oh. It is you. The blue lions captain,” Petra nodded. “Yes. My name is Petra. Am I the bothering you?”

“No, you’re not bothering me. I just saw that you were cold, I thought you could get use out of this, it’s not like I’m using it,” Dimitri handed the bear coat to her. Petra would take it, feeling its softness, warmth, and weight right in her fingertips before wearing it right over the coat she already wore.

“Oh. Thank you. Its fur is so thick, like a soft armor. I am not very good with the cold. Back home in Brigid it is so hot.”

“I can say the same for summertime,” Dimitri said as he sat down beside her. “Being a northerner, my daily experience is usually a frigid one. So when summertime comes I tend to sweat rather profusely. I am not very inclined with the heat.”

Petra giggled. “Profusely. Inclined. I think I understand those words.”

“You speak well,” Dimitri was somewhat aware of her attempts to learn the language. She did alright enough. What mattered was that people knew what she was trying to say, the semantics can always be improved upon eventually. “How has your time been here at Garreg Mach?”

“The monastery has been the hospital.”

“Well it tries its best to be hospitable,” Dimitri nodded. “Everyone from all walks of life comes here, especially since it’s at the heart of the continent. I recall seeing you face Felix at the sword tournament earlier this year. You really know your way around a sword.”

“Blades are a speciality in Brigid, it is like dance, used to carve a path through the jungle of life.”

“Heh. We have something like that in my homeland too, though for us we symbolize it with daggers.”

“Daggers? Daggers cannot cut very well against the bush.”

“It’s a figure of speech. People usually give others daggers to mean that in my culture, since buying someone a sword isn’t as easy.”

“Ohhh, that sounds the delightful. Everyone in Brigid must have blades, so gifting is not as the common, even among the rich.” 

Dimitri and Petra seemed to get along with each other swimmingly, how amusing. Two people from different ends of the world, meeting here right at the center, and it all began with an act of kindness.

Then Dorothea appeared. “Wow, Prince Dimitri. So the rumors are true, you’re getting your flirt on,” she winked. “You’ve even got poor ol’ Petra under your brand new signature weapon!”

“Huh?!” the two exclaimed. Dimitri immediately looked up and there it was. Mistletoe. “How’d that even get there?!”

“It was there this entire time, nobody’s noticed save a few. Ferdie totally could’ve gotten away with one on Petra if he’d seen it,” Dorothea dramatically placed the back of her hand on her forehead and then arched backwards. “And here I thought you were a more respectable, and daresay prudish, man. To be warped so thoroughly by imminent kingship, the drama!”

“Dorothea I swear this isn’t what it looks like.”

“It sure does. The coat. The small talk. The way you have this exotic beauty smiling, all under the mistletoe. You’re like a lion out on the hunt, everything’s accounted for and your prey is yours.”

Dimitri gave Petra a nervous and embarrassed look, and she returned it with a curious look of her own, processing what’s happened and what could happen. She wasn’t from here, and now she’s found herself face to face with it. Ostensibly speaking, she could even say she was used.

“Aha, see? How many more will you get on your paws, hmm, your highness? I can hardly imagine what it’d be like once you become king!”

“Okay I think it’s best I withdraw from this now,” Dimitri said as he stood up. “I mean no ill intentions, honest.”

Dimitri then darted away, or at least tried to. Petra was an agile woman, and she got up as he tried to walk away, grabbing him by the wrist. Dimitri turned and was surprised by her strength as she pulled him in and then dipped him, planting a big kiss right on his lips.

“Oh my!” Dorothea squealed. 

The southern princess has taken the northern prince, perhaps it was prey turning on predator, or merely a woman taking what she wants, or maybe it’s just tradition. Whatever it was, it was here. Petra seemed to be into it. Dimitri’s mouth was warm for a man born and raised in the cold.

Eventually Petra allowed Dimitri to stand straight after she broke the kiss. Dimitri coughed. That was certainly something. It was like eating some peppers. He beat his chest, “wow, Petra. You didn’t have to. I-”

“My turn!” Dorothea giggled. She walked over to Petra and gave her a peck on the lips, and then wrapped her arms around Dimitri and gave him a smooch of her own as well. “Talk about magical. A commoner girl kissing the royal prince,” she winked at Dimitri. “Make sure to remember us as you work your way up to Edie!”

“E-e-Edie?! I’m not kissing Edelgard!”

“Surrreeee….” Dorothea looked playfully at Petra, who matched her look. They both knew that his little conquest of Dimitri’s was going to eventually reach Edelgard. She was like the crown stag amongst other wild game. The centerpiece of any self-respecting top hunter.

Dimitri just covered his face, now so red and hot he couldn’t even feel the winter cold.

Dimitri was headed straight to the nearest sink to wash off Constance’s lipstick. Which was going to be pretty easy given that the tea section was right next to the cafeteria, he could just use the sink there. Though as he did, he heard a gruff voice call out to him.

“Yo, your highness!”

“Hmm?” Dimitri looked to see none other than Balthus right on the open pathways of the monastery, in this case the one right next to the tea area. Dimitri approached him, “Balthazar, right? What is it?”

“Close, it’s Balthus, actually,” the taller man nodded. “Listen, I saw you score that kiss from Connie with that slick air mistletoe move.”

“I-the- that was not intentional! Someone’s clearly playing a trick on me!”

“It’s fine, your highness, I’m not asking you to share your secrets,” Balthus flexed his arm, showcasing the muscle definition of his bicep, “don’t need ‘em, these bad boys are enough to score the ladies. I’m actually here because I want you to help me with a bet.”

“I don’t exactly like partaking in games of chance, Balthus.”

“No no, it’s fine. See, I bet a couple of gold that you’ll end up kissing Professor Manuela by the end of today. I can pay off at least half of my debts if I win it big!”

“W-wh-what?! Balthus, that’s preposterous! I would never!”

“Aww, okay Dimitri,” Balthus gave a smile and a wink. 

“No, Balthus. I really won’t. She’s like way older than me.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Balthus gave another wink. Two, actually. “She totally doesn’t gun for younger men, especially big strong ones of noble stock.”

“Balthus quit it! I refuse to inconvenience Professor Manuela to feed into your gambling habits!”

“Okay, okay,” Balthus backed off. Then gave Dimitri another wink. “By tonight, your highness. My money’s counting on you.”

“Balthus!”

“Hey guys!” came another voice. In this case, Hilda, with Marianne in tow no less. Dimitri’s eyes met the latter’s, though she would quickly turn away. Hilda swayed her hips as she approached the two boys, “I see you two chatting. Raphael would be stoked to be a part of this convo. Anyways, Dimitri, I see you’ve been dabbling in the ladies, huh?”

Hilda grinned as she cupped Dimitri’s cheek, giving a tiny squeeze that emphasized the blue kiss mark. “Out here wearing the kisses like trophies. Sylvain’s still got you beat though, he’s usually peppered with those.”

“I’m…” Dimitri gave a tired sigh. “Hilda, I promise you I’m not doing it intentionally.”

“I believe you,” Hilda smiled, causing Dimitri to be surprised. “I mean, it’s the holidays. A mistletoe sounds like the perfect way to get away with kissing the prince, especially one on the hunkier end, hmm, whaddya think Marianne?”

Hilda teased Marianna as she put her hands on Dimitri’s arm, giving a squeeze only to be met by Dimitri’s own muscles. Marianne did not respond.

“Well, if you may excuse me, I have to wash this off,” Dimitri said as he gently wrested Hilda’s hand from his arm. “Farewell, you three.”

“Hold it, not yet!” Hilda grabbed Dimitri’s arm again, harder this time, a strength that betrayed her appearance. She held up her index finger on her other hand, sticking out her tongue a bit as she looked up in the sky waiting for something.

“Uh… Hilda, what are you looking out for?” Balthus raised a brow.

“That was supposed to be his cue,” Hilda’s shoulders drooped. Then, from behind the hedges beside the paths emerged… Cyril? Cyril appeared and he was wearing some kind of greenish outfit with pointy shoes, striped socks, and a red hat. Dimitri was mildly familiar with this, the holidays spoke of a kind of people that roamed during this time, spreading gifts across the continent. Workmen of Seiros, some say. They say it’s how the locals fused existing folklore with the growth of the Seiros religion, but either way, Cyril looked odd. Uncomfortable too.

“This is for Lady Rhea, this is for Lady Rhea…” Cyril muttered under his breath as he walked with a big red and white cane with a mistletoe attached to it. Balthus dodge-rolled out of the way as Cyril placed the long cane between Dimitri, Hilda, and Marianne.

“Yay! Now I get to join the Dimitri Kiss Club!” Hilda winked at Dimitri.

“Hilda, you can’t weaponize-” Dimitri couldn’t even finish his sentence as she lifted him off his feet and gave him a big kiss on the lips, Dimitri’s eyes widened, and Marianne’s even wider. Hilda relished the kiss with the prince as she held him right up. It wasn’t every day one managed to kiss the prince, might as well use this sudden event. Call it an Ethereal Moon miracle, even if Hilda had to get her hands dirty.

Dimitri eventually managed to push Hilda off, coughing. “Hilda! You can’t do that!”

“Ooh look at me, my lobster’s too buttery,” Hilda rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, your highness. You can kiss as many girls as you want once you’re king. There’s no need to be ashamed of getting excited. At least you got me out of the way! Though I have a feeling your sights on a different prize.”

Hilda looked mischievously at Marianne, who covered her mouth with both hands as she blushed. Hilda put her hands on Marianne and pushed her towards Dimitri. “Alright Mari, it’s your turn. Kiss him like you did me, it’s tradition, after all, right?”

Dimitri and Marianne paused for a moment.

Marianne. 

Kissing her didn’t seem so bad.

Marianne however would end up breaking into a run instead, bolting straight into the tea area.

“Woops, I guess I pushed her a little too hard,” Hilda put her hands on her hips. In her efforts to keep getting Marianne out of her shell, she might’ve overdone it.

“Uh… Dimitri,” Balthus walked back in, keeping his distance as he tapped the prince’s shoulder with his finger. “Just so you know, if this kiss leads to you marrying Hilda, I’m going to have to wrestle you. You can’t marry her if you can’t outwrestle me, that’s a promise I made to her!” 

Dimitri’s just about had enough of the grappling king’s shenanigans, so he grabs the larger man by the wrist and completely flips him over with ease with a single throw. No technique, just raw irresistible strength.

“Oh my!” Hilda gasped.

Dimitri sighed. Great. Now Marianne thinks he’s some freak too, and just when he was getting her to warm up to him. He left the scene, he seriously needed to wash these kiss marks off.

The training grounds. Finally. There wasn’t a day where Dimitri didn’t come here, even on lighter days like this he made sure to spend at least an hour or two to keep his skills sharp. The grounds were a place of sparring and tended to host all kinds of tournaments. Dimitri brought with him a number of training lances and got to work. Unlike others who tended to use spears the way they were used, Dimitri found himself inclined to use them as if they were clubs. His family’s weapon was a glaive, after all.

Honestly it was always strange how unproficient he was with axes, which seemed like the ultimate weapon for him as opposed to the slender spears and lances of the world, but every time he swung one, the axehead would always fly off the handle, destroyed either the might of his grip or the strength of his swing.

Though by far the best part of this day was the fact that there were no mistletoe. Dimitri couldn’t help but look up wherever he went, hoping there weren’t any of them so he wouldn’t have to focus on them anymore.

“Eyes on me, Dimitri,” Ingrid furrowed her brow. The two were sparring, but it was clear to Ingrid that Dimitri’s mind was occupied by something else, and she didn’t like it. “There are no mistletoes here for you to use.”

“Use?! Ingrid, please. I’m looking out for them so I can avoid them,” Dimitri frowned. 

Ingrid wasn’t buying it. “Mhmm, sure. Y’know, when I heard they were stringing the mistletoes again I just knew Sylvain would have a hand in using them. I think I even saw him collude with Claude regarding their distribution. In a way, I’ve kind of grown to live with his skirtchasing, but you?”

“I am not a skirtchaser!” Dimitri said as he slammed his lance down on Ingrid. She would manage to block it, though it didn’t really help due to the force causing her to lose her footing. Her back was now flat on the floor and before she could get up, Dimitri stood over her, the broad dull tip of the wooden spear head right at her chest.

Dimitri then realized all the eyes on him, and shyly withdrew his spear before extending a hand. Ingrid would take it.

“Sorry, it’s just been getting to me.”

“Wow Dimitri,” Ingrid looked into his eyes. It was almost like he wasn’t kidding. “There is an awful lot of mistletoe around the monastery, and Claude seems like the type to target specific people. Maybe he knows your habits, or maybe life’s just… trying to steer you down one way even if you don’t want to.”

Dimitri didn’t really respond anymore as he just walked away from the center back to where his other items were. He put his training spear down, plopping it amongst the others. He’s had enough training for the day. He should just go somewhere quiet where neither people nor mistletoe could find him, like the library or maybe his room.

“Dimitri, I’m sorry,” Ingrid followed him. “I didn’t mean to get confrontational.”

“It’s fine, Ingrid, you’re just concerned for your fellow women is all,” Dimitri sighed. “I swear, Ingrid, I’m not doing this on purpose.”

“You can say that again!” Claude said from the other side of the training grounds as he fired his bow, causing an arrow to strike a spot in the ceiling directly above both Dimitri and Ingrid. The arrow of course holding mistletoe.

“Oh,” said Ingrid. “I see what you mean.”

“Claude, this is not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Claude winked. “C’mon, your highness, finish your little conquest.”

“It’s fine, Dimitri, I’ll handle Claude for you, until then,” Ingrid placed her hands on Dimitri’s shoulders. 

“Ingrid, you don’t have to play along with the mistletoe. I thought you of all people would know that.”

“I know. But the thought of kissing your cheek isn’t entirely unpleasant, at least I can’t blame you for it. Unless you’re working with Claude…” Ingrid pondered for a moment. That was also a possibility. Then she shrugged, “eh, maybe I’m just feeling the holiday spirit. I’m sure Sylvain will have something to say about this.”

Ingrid went ahead and gave Dimitri a small peck on the cheek. “For standing by me in my dreams of being a knight, it’s the least I can do for my king.”

“I’m not king yet, Ingrid.”

“Close enough,” Ingrid smiled. 

“Ow! Ow! Hey!” The two turned to see Catherine pinching Claude’s ear before pulling him over to Seteth, who had been watching. Dimitri and Ingrid grinned, well, there it was. They didn’t even need to do anything about it. The two watched as Seteth and some guards whisked the Golden Deer’s house leader away, only to then be met by Catherine and her colleague, Shamir.

“Hey hey, princeling,” Catherine put her fists on her hips. “I think your little wild hunt’s come to a close now that we’ve caught your accomplice red-handed.”

“Claude is not my accomplice. I am not trying to get all these kisses.”

“There’s plenty of gossip going around right now, word tends to spread like wildfire here in the monastery, it really is a microcosm of this whole continent,” Shamir remarked. “You and Claude sure appear like a hunting troop. He leads your prey your way and you secure the kill. Hammer and anvil.”

“Please, respectfully, I- nevermind.”

“Finally admitting, are ya?” Catherine chuckled.

“No, but it’s clear you’ve all made up your mind. I can kill myself right now and you’ll all still insist I kissed Edelgard as I take my last breaths.”

Ingrid, Catherine, and Shamir all took a step back on that one.

“Woah, your highness, easy on the humor,” said Catherine. “We’ll stop. Faerghus doesn’t need to lose another member of its royal family.”

“Why not? You seem quite proud of killing Faerghusi nobles,” Dimitri spat, his cobalt blue eyes turned into a glare. The voices in his head were a blind rage of raucous roars. He felt as if nails were digging into his brain, cutting it up and giving him a splitting headache.

“Now hey wait a minute your highness, I take offense to that!”

“Why not? I thought you did everything for the archbishop. Kill all who oppose the church, be it father or son, because it’s what has to be done. You’re lucky, having someone else think for you. All I’m left with is the thinking. The lives that weigh on my shoulders and how easily it can crush me into a paste with a single twist of fate.”

“Dimitri, are you okay? I think all of this mistletoe gossip is getting to you,” Ingrid held him by the arm. Dimitri however pulled his arm back. “I’m fine, Ingrid,” he said. “I’m fine. Just… I’m going to go now.”

Dimitri went back to claim his things, he leapt up and ripped the mistletoe arrow right off, crushing both it and the arrow itself into bits with his bare hands. No one dared stand in his way. Very few had ever seen the crown prince of Faerghus so frustrated. Save for those who saw him at Remire, the last time they saw him like this was during the Battle of Eagle and Lion, where he broke Edelgard’s shield into bits and pieces, and then tore her armor as if it were a silken garment.

The prince stormed off with his things, eager to just retire for the rest of the day before this entire situation got even further out of hand.

The library. Dimitri had a feeling that he’d be pursued at his dorm room, so after washing off and dropping some of his gear at his room, he headed straight there. The library was pretty out of the way, there was no way one would accidentally find themselves there. Still, he was a bit wary of mistletoe, and was able to quickly notice one upon entering, right there hanging by the book shelf. He jumped up and ripped it right off. There, now he didn’t have to focus on that.

Dimitri tried to keep control of his breathing as he went through the books. There weren’t a lot of people in the library at this particular hour, they were probably headed back home or out doing something else. Not that he minded. If anything, other people were what he wanted the least of right now. Dimitri looked through books to read.

He normally read books regarding kings of the past, and even records of foreign rulers. He’d witnessed all kinds of stories from foreign lands. Riders with territory as vast as the seas, a glorious empire with daily bloodsport and impressive roads, states that knew neither king nor emperor but had independent lords that rode upon dragons, not wyverns, whole dragons, and scorched everything. Some even say that these mysterious beautiful people were dragons themselves. There were so many, and just when he thought he’d read on them, there were many more.

History has regaled him with these stories, a chunk of them undoubtedly more romanticized than they should be, but he always tended to focus more on what these kings, warlords, and others did. All of them held a vast power over the people, if they commanded a person to jump to their death, that person would jump. That was the kind of power he held. He’d heard stories of kings whose reign primarily consisted of balancing and mediating amongst their vassals and the lands/armies they possessed. Part of him felt jealous about their relative impotence. His power was far more concrete, and thus he had to walk the path of these men.

There was a khan (a foreign land’s monarch) that unified the pastoral tribes of the steppe. He sent an envoy when his traders were slain by a neighboring empire. He sent an envoy for peace and explanation, but they too were slain. So with his horses and his men, he descended upon them all and wiped them from the map. They only continue to exist through the very words in this book. Mountains of skulls on islands of fat amidst an ocean of blood, from one mountain range to the next. From the jungles to the desert. The cities he sacked, the people he erased from the face of the world. All accentuated by one of the last acts of his ruthless two year campaign. 

The khan’s favorite grandson died laying siege to a city. So when that city eventually fell, his only command was to kill every last one of them. His boundless vengeance could not be sated. The city would be known as the city of screams, its splendor and beauty ruined. A fate that would fall other empires like it. Their rulers having their heads hanging on their gates, their families, let alone their subjects, forced to watch. Their faces bedewed with tears as all they held dear was either clasped in the khan and his horde’s arms, or destroyed like the rest.

Mirroring and contrasting this was another monarch. He was usually just called emperor, though a more endonymic version was Samrat. The samrat was a fierce killer as well, leading his army, annihilating cities, leaving wives without husbands and mothers without sons, assuming they were even still there alive to grieve them. The samrat gazed upon his bloodshed and put down his sword. After his fierce career, he started anew.

Hospitals, roads, schools. He promoted a life of peace amongst his people in hopes that war would never rise up among them and turn them into who he was. Dimitri wondered if that was possible. Could it be that easy to forgive a man who massacred so many?

Dimitri was silent for a moment. He joined this monastery for one reason above all others. Vengeance. His father’s words still echoed in him as he stood bloodsoaked amongst all those flames. Avenge them all. He had to. What was he willing to do for revenge? Would he take his reins and stirrups and murder the world? Can he then bury it all with welfare and reform while the innocent souls of all he’d vanquished cry endlessly in the beyond?

There was also of course the matter of what he’d do with the crown should that all succeed. Say he does end up becoming this… this savage boar as Felix would say it. A tempest of delusion who operates massacre at an industrial scale, and then buries it by taking upon the persona of a savior king and creates the most prosperous rule to be revered for all of time. Could it really be as prosperous if it did not end with him? Did he have to hold onto this power forever, even as he tries to lessen the importance of crests and, at the cost of being blasphemous, form a finer rift between the words “holy” and “kingdom” on Faerghus’ name?

Or did he simply just hold out until somewhere down the line someone in his bloodline messes it all up and the people finally rise as a more connected whole?

Would he even be forgiven by the people that would come after him? Remembering mostly the cities he raised in the desert of peace formed from the cities he razed? The people that followed the samrat sure did, and even the people under the khan did not completely rule him as a barbarian, citing his establishment of meritocracies and greater peace amongst the trade routes of his continent.

Dimitri shook his head. He was asking himself too many questions. He was walking around on auto-pilot the entire time. He stopped by a shelf regarding foreign histories and pulled out a book. Soft cover and spine yet thick with pages. It made for a flimsy block in his hand, which didn’t really need to close to grab it. He was practically carrying it with his fingers. It was a book about a hammer-wielding king. He wondered what kind of king he would be. Perhaps he could find his answers here.

He would find a seat all to himself in the back of the library. Gently pulling up a chair, he would sit down. He’d already learned plenty from Faerghus’ past kings, and even Adrestia’s emperors, both before and after the War of the Eagle and Lion. He was even partially aware of how Edelgard’s father had slipped power in a more quiet insurrection, losing power to his margraves in the same way kings from other lands lost to their barons, limiting their power. He recalled Sir Jeralt saying that wealth was land and the king was the landlord of landlords. That insurrection is exactly why he’d end up being the richest man in Fodlan once he ascended the throne.

As he flipped open the thin cover, elegant steps could be heard on the hardwood floor of the library. 

“Oh my, your highness,” purred an older woman’s voice. Dimitri knew that could only belong to one person.

“Professor Manuela,” said Dimitri. He would stand up, but Professor Manuela held up a hand to stop him. She would saunter over to the seat opposite of him, sitting down and placing her elbows on the desk. 

“I’m sure you’re quite aware of why I’m here,” Manuella purred, interlocking her fingers, acting as a platform to rest her chin on. “I heard you had a bit of an outburst in the training area earlier. Hopefully I’m not too late.”

Dimitri just kept quiet. He had no sighs left in his system.

“Professor Manuela. Respectfully-”

“No, Dimitri!” Manuela hissed, albeit silent enough for the library. She banged her hand on the table, “do you have any idea how many men just pick me up and drop me down during these holidays?! I get it, I don’t think I’ll ever really get attached to anyone. I’m not about that life. I just hop onto whoever excites me, and right now, just this once, won’t you give this old panthress a chance? I’m not asking to date you, just a kiss, the same ones you’ve either given or taken with all the girls your age today.”

“Professor Manuela. This is really unbecoming of you. You’re a professor-”

“Oh so Byleth can do it to you and I can’t?”

“Wh-wh-hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Dimitri said sheepishly, face as red as an apple as he had a frown on his face, like a deer cornered by hounds. 

“Easy on the advances there, Miss Casagranda,” came another voice. Dimitri recognized it. Catherine and Shamir emerged.

“Lady Catherine,” Dimitri looked away.

“Prince Dimitri.”

“I… I apologize for what I said earlier at the training grounds. I grew frustrated and it was not right for me to lash out at you.”

“It’s cool,” Catherine placed a hand on the prince’s shoulder, causing him to finally look up at her. “Heh. You really have become a handsome young man. To think I mistook you for a wee lass when I first saw you.”

“They did say Blaiddyd males were prone to growth spurts,” Manuela winked. “Their shoulders, their arms, their feet.”

“Well, at least we can confirm that you’re not trying to trap girls under the mistletoe,” Shamir crossed her arms, staring at the ceiling. “You instantly yanked out the mistletoe at the front of the library but didn’t even notice the one above us right now.”

“Wait what?!” Dimitri and Catherine looked up. Sure enough, there it was, with some holly too. There was some time between Dimitri’s outburst at the training yard and his entry into the library. During it, Shamir thought to follow Dimitri, just to see what was what. Sure enough, Catherine found her and the two of them followed Dimitri to the library, where they saw him rip the first mistletoe but miss the second one.

Honestly that was just weird. Two mistletoe? At the library? That was surely a choice, it was like someone was gunning for a set up of their own and Dimitri got caught in the crossfire. Again.

Dimitri said nothing, he just placed his hands on his face. Shamir shot Manuela a look. “You knew the mistletoe was there, didn’t you?”

“Mayhaps,” Manuela flipped her hand, “honestly I was pretty lucky, then again I suppose we can say the same thing for the prince over here. Clearly the goddess is blessing him by throwing women his way, a solid means to figure out who his bride will be.”

“Well that is part of the reason why the academy exists,” Shamir nodded. Ever since she came into the monastery’s employ, she’d been learning about its place on the continent. In this case, the fact that the Officer’s Academy was just as much about having the next generation’s nobles and opportunists rub elbows as much as it was honing their skills in combat. “I think I’m down for a quick peck. If the prince is up for it, of course.”

“If you’re game, then I’m game,” Catherine smirked. “Consider it an apology kiss. If the prince accepts, of course.”

“Hey!” Manuela pouted. “I was here first!”

“Just… get it over with.”

“Well alright then, on three!” Catherine laughed as she leaned down beside Dimitri’s face. “One…”

“Two…” Shamir leaned on the other side of Dimitri’s face. It began to dawn on Dimitri what they were going to do. An impromptu synchronization that was every male (and perhaps some female) student’s wildest dreams.

“Three!” Manuela leaned over on the table, getting close to Dimitri.

All three in unison then kissed the crown prince. Catherine on his left cheek, Shamir on his right cheek, and Manuela didn’t hesitate on kissing him on the lips. Dimitri was sure he blew a fuse somewhere, or whatever the proper term was. He didn’t expect to get hit with a triangle attack.

“Hey wait a minute, since we’re under the mistletoe shouldn’t we kiss too?” asked Shamir once they stopped kissing Dimitri. Well, her and Catherine. Manuela was still into it. The older woman crawled onto the table, one of her arms grabbed Dimitri’s to wrap around her as she then wrapped her arms around Dimitri.

“Pfft, sure, I guess it’ll be us,” Catherine wrapped her arm around Shamir and the two shared a kiss too. Because hell yeah. Holidays are fun.

The sun was setting over Garreg Mach Monastery, earlier than usual given that it was the Ethereal Moon and thus winter was here to extend night’s grip over the world. Dimitri exhaled, his breath visible in the fading light as he sat by the frozen fish pond. He moved his tongue, feeling it in his mouth as he tried to taste his own lips. He’s gotten more use out of these things today than he has his whole life.

How many girls has he inconvenienced today with these mistletoes? There was Bernadetta, Flayn… 15 girls, give or take? That was 15 too many. Luckily, with night falling soon, he was sure that the goddess had had her fill of tormenting them with his presence. So Dimitri sat there at the lonely dock, gazing on the frozen waters of the pond as snow fell all around him. It seemed a hard winter was coming in the Saint’s Gap, which was formally the period between Saint Cichol Day and Saint Seiros Day, though it was also used to signify the gap between Garreg Mach’s Founding Day and the start of the Guardian Moon.

He could recall a blizzard one time when he was a boy. Fhirdiad was waist-deep in snow, so a small boy like him could easily drown in it. He tried to walk through the snowstorm that choked the city as he roamed the royal garden.

And from it emerged a girl. A southron lass his age.

Dimitri heard steps on the snowy dock. Snow tended to conceal sound, but not completely, especially not to someone accustomed to winter hunts. The steps were delicate yet precise, orderly, the gait of a noble with a pedigree in soldiery. He was familiar with this pace of grace and power.

“El- degard,” Dimitri said, not looking at her.

“What gave it away?” Edelgard asked as she sat beside Dimitri, wearing a fine fox coat and ermine scarf.

“Nothing. I just know.”

“I suppose the wintertime is your element.”

“It’s almost dinnertime. Why aren’t you with your house?”

“I can ask the same of you. There’s no fish to be caught here, as indicated by both Flayn’s and our teacher’s absences. It’s your retainer’s turn in the kitchen, no? You should be there with him rather than in an empty place like this.”

“I told them to eat without me, I just want to be alone with my thoughts for a while,” answered Dimitri. “I just feel like being left alone for a while. Preferably in a place where there isn’t a decorated rafter over my head.”

“So those mistletoe stories are true.”

“They are. Are you going to comment about how brutish I am? Make some comment about how I’m indulging in some sort of contemporary and diminished prima nocta?”

“What? No. Why would I say that?”

“It sounds like something you would say.”

“It is not!”

“It is.”

“It is not!” Edelgard huffed. “I’ve seen plenty of boys try and weaponize the mistletoe over the years. Not just boys, really. Grown men, and some my way, no less. None of them have ever gotten more than one, two if they’re lucky. Word’s gotten around that each noteworthy girl and woman in school’s gotten either their lips on you, or yours on them. I count ten right now.”

“Which ten?”

“Three of each house and Flayn. I’m surprised Marianne hasn’t become one of your lionesses. Or would elites be a better term? Ten elites with you as their Nemesis.”

“And you’re here to off me, then? You bear the blood of Wilhelm and Seiros.”

“Which would make this day The War of Heroes,” Edelgard played along. “Maybe I am. I’m just curious, really. How did you do it? And why today?”

“I don’t have an answer to either of those questions. I know how you feel about the goddess, Edelgard, so I know you won’t accept any answer I give you, no matter how earnest.”

Edelgard looked away. “I believe you.”

The two house leaders sat in silence as the snow fell all over them. The sun faded further and further into the distance until it was finally devoured completely by the horizon, plunging the world into a cold and dark winter night. The monastery’s torches were alight, illuminating what they could. The cafeteria nearby surged with the noise of silverware and chatter, the aroma of all kinds of foods being prepared no less.

Dimitri closed his eyes, blocking out all sensations from the outside world. The chatter and her footsteps, the aromas and the cold. An image of what was appeared in his mind, a memory of those olden days when his family roamed the earth and she was still there.

Edelgard, when she was brown of hair. He called her El and she took him dancing. It was just him and her. Dee and El. 

He remembers them walking under the mistletoe, and her being all flustered and then explaining to him what it was. Then she kissed him anyway. No one saw it. It was just the two of them in some corner of the castle in Fhirdiad, away from the rest of the world.

“Dimitri.”

Dimitri opened his eyes and turned to Edelgard, who was now standing up. He looked up at her and saw she had stretched out her hand to him.

“I hadn't gotten you a present. I know you said it was fine, but I suppose us nobles have to keep appearances,” she said with that smile of hers. The same one she always gave him. Wily like Claude’s yet not as affectionate, there was a different current with this one though, then again that could just be the cold. “Dance with me.”

“You saw how I dance back at the ball.”

“Consider me not judging you as part of the gift.”

Dimitri closed his eyes for a bit. He thought about who Edelgard was. That girl was gone now for sure. The woman who took her place was ignorant of her completely, and if she did know, she weaponized it against him like she did everything.

He took her hand and stood up. They danced hand in hand by the fishing dock. Small steps, nothing big or elaborate. He never was a good dancer, no matter how young El tried to teach him during their time together. Perhaps Edelgard knew that subconsciously, and kept things simple to up his confidence.

Then Edelgard slowly twirled herself under his arm and then transitioned into rolling into his arms. So much for that. He managed to do it perfectly with her, just obeying her league. He mostly danced in hopes of impressing their professor on his turn with her (or rather her turn with him). 

“You're not as half bad of a dancer as you think you are, Dimitri,” said Edelgard. He did not know whether she was sarcastic or not. He didn’t really know anything anymore. It was like she was running circles around him except he didn't know why she was running and why him specifically. “It would've been nice to have danced with you at the ball. Though being heirs, we were each swarmed with all sorts of people.”

“You're not missing out of anything,” said Dimitri. He continued to follow Edelgard’s lead. “Dancing has never been my strong suit anyways. Not like you.”

Edelgard moved gracefully in contrast to Dimitri’s rigidness, her fluidity and grace somehow worked excellently with his seemingly encumbered movements. 

The memories peppered Dimitri’s mind, but the more he thought about them, the more it made his heart ache. He ultimately stopped Edelgard when she took his arm and rolled into his embrace again. 

“Oh, what's this?” Edelgard teased him, “Are you keen on adding me to your conquests?”

Dimitri pushed Edelgard away, forceful enough to succeed, but nothing too aggressive. Edelgard’s face twisted into one of curiosity, confusion, and… offense. 

“I can't do this…”

“And why not? Are you suddenly afraid now that you've met someone of your own social stature, your highness?” Edelgard took an authoritative step forward. Her eyes locked right on his, her grin wide and more gotcha! than ever. “Unable to contend with-”

Dimitri’s azure eyes radiated a soft sadness, amplified only further by the frown on his face. It stirred something within Edelgard. His blonde hair, the pale moonlight, the cold air, the fact that he followed her lead to compensate for his innately poor dance skills.

“Dee…” Edelgard whispered under her breath, involuntarily, her mind piecing together the faded fragments. 

“El, we can't do this. I can't…”

In that moment, in his arms as the freezing winds blew, she saw only the boy she had come to call friend. The boy who wished for her to carve her own destiny. The first boy she ever loved.

That deep force which stirred within Edelgard strengthened and took hold of her as she reached for Dimitri, giving him a deep kiss.

Dimitri closed his eyes, as did she. He was still, his mind trying to find the kiss of old from this new one. He found… a lot of it. A lot of the old things. For a brief moment it was as if he could taste again, and his family was alive, and the two of them would kiss some more behind his father’s back. 

The two of them felt burning tears roll down their faces as their lips remained locked. Edelgard moaned, for a moment everything disappeared in roaring flames. Like her siblings were still alive and her hair wasn't all silvery white.

Two old loves long separated, reunited in a sudden moment under the ethereal moon. Alas, the moment did what its kind always did and eventually passed, their power lingered even in their absence, but they were absent nonetheless, leaving a vacuum for reality or resettle.

Edelgard moved away from Dimitri as she broke the kiss. Her whole body shook when she opened her eyes and it dawned on her what she did, and the possible revelation that dug itself into her mind.

“No….” She blushed, her eyes full of fear. A glint of hope maybe, but terror took hold. The ramifications of the destiny she was to carve for herself and the people of Fodlan.

“It cannot be,” she told herself. Because if he was, it meant that Dee would be another sacrifice in the name of the future she hoped to create. Tears ran down Edelgard’s face as her mind tried to bury everything in a panic.

Dimitri kept his eyes closed, his ears hearing only the sounds of frantic steps of a woman taking flight like a rabbit would wolves in the dark of night. He stayed still there. 

El had abandoned him, again.

The stables rarely saw traffic later at night. By sunfall, the knights, mercenaries, and equestrian trainees alike had put their horses back, and as the hours marched on the horses were left within the warmth of their stables, either chewing on hay or already resting. That did not mean that it was completely empty of people though.

They were dark, with all torches outside the stable. There inside Marianne was alone, making sure the horses’ blankets were on them correctly and their feed wasn’t too stale. Eventually she went back to her own horse, a stallion named Dorte. 

Okay, Dorte wasn’t actually her horse, but he was basically her horse. At first it was just her fellow Deer that brought up the assumption, then the other houses did too. She can recall a time when Edelgard herself of all people mentioned it. Marianne had no idea who Dorte’s owner really was, he was likely just a stallion of the monastery that’s aided many aspiring riders before her. Paladins, great knights, bow knights, dark knights, and the path Professor Byleth suggested for her, holy knights.

Dorte snorted as Marianne brushed his mane once more. She tended to think about her day today as she brushed Dorte’s hair. It’s become a solid part of her routine during her tenure at the Officer’s Academy, and just a good way to be alone with her thoughts where the people can’t see her and think about her monstrous crest.

Today was a fairly blank day, or at least it should have been. It was the holidays, and soon both Founding Day and the Saint’s Gap shall come. It was usually this time that had to return home, but all of her friends were here. The Golden Deer have been nothing but welcoming, and the friends she’d gained in the other houses were delightful as well. There were times with them where she’d forget she was herself, and thus happy.

Though one of them in particular had become quite the source of woe as of late. He’d be the type to charm a smile out of her the same way a flutist does a serpent, the kind of smile that makes people like Lorenz and Ferdinand liken to a butterfly spreading its wings.

Dimitri.

He’d been kissing girls all day, if the little birds of the monastery were to be believed. Some say that each house had their chosen eight. Eight students deemed more notable than others, usually the few lordlings and some adept commoners. She would know since she was apparently part of the golden deer’s supposed chosen eight. Well, as the ethereal moon itself hung up above in the absence of the blue sea star, Dimitri has each girl of all three house’s eight.

Except for her.

Even Edelgard had eventually fallen in. They say he mentioned her name during his outburst at the training grounds, others make mention of a scandalous moment by the frozen fish pond. Some say she was even the first, perhaps having engaged in a tryst the night before, and thus her kiss was what awakened him in the morning.

She actually had a chance of her own earlier this afternoon, just after lunch. Dimitri was speaking with that Balthus fellow and he had two lipstick marks on him from a woman named Connie, who she assumed was Constance. Hilda scored a kiss out of him like she did out of her earlier this morning, she held him up off the ground and everything.

Then before she knew it, it was her turn.

Oh Hilda. She was one of the bestest friends a girl like her could have, but she tended to get so… over sometimes. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Dimitri, it was just that… something about the idea of him kissing all those girls just made her feel rotten inside. Well, more rotten than usual. It made her feel as if she was afflicted with a plague, or perhaps the beast within was storming about, turning her into carrion from within.

Why not her? Why hasn’t he approached her with mistletoe? There was no way a man like him, a prince that shall soon be crowned king no less, can have so many in a single day. He had to have planted them, or perhaps everyone else has planted theirs for him. Hilda did use Cyril as a loophole, after all. Perhaps this was their way of getting closer to Faerghus’ king.

Was that why she didn’t get him? Did Hilda give her the opportunity of a lifetime and she dashed it all away?

Then again, maybe neither she nor Dimitri needed to, considering… Nevermind. Marianne sighed as she untangled some of Dorte’s mane. “There, all better,” Marianne said quietly. Dorte gave a happy little neigh. Rider and stallion nuzzled each other before Marianne exited his stall.

“Marianne,” came a voice. An all-too-familiar voice. Marianne flinched as her mind raced with both surprise and the variety of things that could happen in the moments that were to follow. There, at the entrance of the stables where the calm dimness of the inside clashed with the warm and bright torches outside was a tall figure.

“Dimitri,” Marianne said softly, holding her hands together. “I… good evening.”

“Good evening, Marianne,” Dimitri approached her gently. “I… I noticed that you were avoiding me during dinner time. I… I just came here to apologize for making you feel uncomfortable.”

Marianne remained quiet for a moment, then she walked over and embraced Dimitri. Dimitri quietly returned the hug, and in each other’s arms, they walked slowly out of the stable. They sat by a wagon of crates and other things just beside the building. Dimitri pulled up a crate for her as he pulled up a smaller one nearby for himself.

“Dimitri,” Marianne decided to cut the silence between them before it grew too long. They were already this far in, and if there was anyone who was going to listen to her, it was him. “Are they true?”

“They are.”

Marianne held her head down.

“Were they good?”

Dimitri shot Marianne a look. He’d never expected that kind of question out of her, then again, this entire day has been quite strange. “I… they were alright. Pleasant if not for the fact that we were forced to do it. I know this is hard to believe, but they were accidents, really.”

“Accidents…”

“Yeah… accidents…”

“I guess our first kiss was alright too, huh?”

Dimitri was silent. 

Oh. It never really clicked in his mind until now.

Earlier on in the school year, a moon or so before the battle of eagle and lion, Dimitri and Marianne were once more on stable duty. They tended to work together given their talents in riding. Dimitri was put towards becoming a paladin, though while Marianne seemed set on becoming a holy knight, the prince himself was still at an impasse between joining her or becoming a ferocious bow knight. Honestly it’d be a little funny if he dropped the horse thing all together and just roamed on foot after all this time.

Anyways, Marianne was riding upon Dorte yet again, and he rode beside her with a regular mare. Before long the sun was setting and their time was over. He dismounted easily, though Marianne’s riding apparel had apparently snagged on Dorte’s saddle. As he helped her dismount, Dorte shifted, causing her to fall upon him, her face crashing upon his, and their lips meeting. He had her off the ground for a minute as they just stared into each other’s eyes, frozen by the electric bond that had suddenly formed. The claiming of a maiden’s kiss in the most brutish of fashions. By raw chance.

Though some might dare say fate.

Accident or otherwise, there wasn’t a moment when Marianne’s mind did not go back to that kiss. Though now it was clear what Dimitri thought about kisses of chance. They were alright.

“Marianne…” Dimitri said quietly. He removed his gauntlet from his hand and reached it out to her. She would take it. Her gloved hand were small and the only thing his bare hand now for warmth. “Kissing you was more magical than I could have ever imagined. I… I think about it too sometimes, whenever my mind isn’t being choked about everything. The tragedy. The crown. The people. I did call you my good luck charm.”

“Lucky enough to get you to win The Battle of Eagle and Lion. Lucky enough for you to kiss whatever girl you want.”

“Marianne, that’s not true. You’re the only-” Dimitri paused. It dawned on him where he was going to end up if he continued. Was he willing to go there? “I know it’s hard to believe, but they really are all accidents. Claude, your house really, they-” Dimitri cut himself off with a groan. He was like a broken record. Again and again with the same interaction and the same answers gaining the same reactions. But he had nothing else to say for that was the truth. If his truth was a lie to everyone else, then his life no matter how true is ultimately a lie to the world.

Despite all this, Marianne’s hold on Dimitri actually tightened. He could feel her fingers interlock with his. Now it felt as if she was the one with The Crest of Blaiddyd, holding onto him so tightly. “Dimitri I… please don’t tell this to anyone. I want you to forget this by the end of tonight.”

“Anything, Marianne.”

“I…”

Dimitri awaited her words. Even as the wintry winds of the ethereal moon howled in sync with those of distant wolves. The torches flickered, trying to stay alight as they dimmed in the presence of the intruding cold, being sapped of their warmth with each passing second.

“I don’t like the idea of other girls kissing you. Not even Hilda. That kiss we shared, no matter how accidental it was, it felt so real to me. It was like being outside in a thunderstorm, just me and the rainclouds. I… I don’t want other girls to get that feeling from you, I think that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to kiss you earlier today. Just seeing you with those lipstick marks, it didn’t feel right.”

Dimitri felt a surge in Marianne’s strength. He wasn’t sure if either Hilda or Raphael ever possessed this level of power. His eyes fell to her arm, which had grown slightly. The gloves threatened to warp as her finger tips gradually stretched with what he hoped weren’t claws trying to rip free from the gloves.

He could see the same for Marianne’s face, a side of which had become slightly stony, scaly even. She turned to look at him, and the eye on the right side of her face became like that of a wild demonic beast’s, though the other was still Marianne’s.

Dimitri however said nothing. His eyes were focused on Marianne as a whole. This beast borne from her crest, her blood, it was still her. She’d told him about it many times over the course of many moons, yet he felt the same way each time.

“I sometimes feel like you’re the only person who ever really gets me, Dimitri.”

“That’s not true, Marianne. You have so many other people who care for you. Ferdinand, Lorenz, Ignatz…”

“Are you pushing me away, Dimitri?”

“What? No!”

Marianne placed her other hand on his shoulder as she reoriented herself to face him.

“Then why mention their names at all?”

“I…” Dimitri just looked down, red and embarrassed.

Suddenly, Dorte emerged from the stables. The horse was still able to smell the pair from inside, and where they were, he usually was as well. So off he went. He stood there before the both of them, shaking a bit due to the falling snow.

“Dorte!” Marianne exclaimed. “I must have forgotten to close your stall gate.”

Dorte snorted, fiddling something in his mouth. The two’s eyes would fixate upon it and sure enough, it was the icon of Dimitri’s day. The one and only mistletoe.

Dimitri and Marianne looked at each other.

“I’ve been telling everybody that they were all unintentional,” he said. “They’re all just strings of chance, but seeing Dorte come here now as I sit here with you, maybe for tonight it’s just fate.”

“Dimitri…” Marianne’s hand slid down his shoulder, her monstrous half fading until she was her normal self again. “I… I know I can’t make any demands of you. When you become king, you’ll have to take a queen, and a girl from Edmund with the crest of the beast won’t be able to sit beside you.”

“Don’t say tha-” Dimitri was shushed by Marianne’s finger. She closed her eyes as she winced at images she formed in her mind. She opened her eyes again, gazing deep into his. Dimitri would wipe some tears going down her face. “I want to believe that maybe some day it’ll be me. But… if this is going to be the last time I ever get to kiss you, I want it to be something I can never erase from my mind, no matter how much it hurts me. I’d rather you haunt me forever than forget even a second of you. How you look, how you sound, how you taste, and how you make me feel… I’ll always be your good luck charm, and you’ll always make sure I’m never truly alone.”

Dimitri had no words left to say, Marianne gave him a smile as she then kissed him. Cold lips collided and found warmth in each other as they exchanged a deep and passionate kiss. If the last one was chance then this one was fate. The next time they meet after graduation, they could be different people.

The kiss was deep. Dimitri felt Marianne’s tongue enter his mouth. It wasn’t as strong as his, but it made up for it with tenacity, a strong neediness, a desperation to remember everything and leave nothing behind. Marianne wanted Dimitri to be inextricable from her being. In mind, body, and soul. Marianne got off her seat and laid on top of Dimitri’s lap, her arms wrapped around his head as she kept going. Their tongues intertwined as Dimitri fell off the crate.

Now on the ground, Marianne laid on top of him as they continued to kiss in the snow. The strongest man in Fodlan was right under her grip, and there was no way he was ever going to escape. Not here. Not tonight. They kissed, kissed, and kissed some more. If Marianne’s tongue was long enough she’d try to reach his very throat. She probably could if she accepted the beast within her.

The two continued their passionate exchange, though eventually (and unfortunately) they had to end it. Not because they ran out of breath, but because the cold winds and layering snow was getting to them. Dorte had already retreated back to his stall, the mistletoe he'd somehow obtained nowhere to be seen, either buried by the snow and concealed by the night or perhaps even a figment of their shared imaginations from the start. A goddess-sent delusion to kill their festering melancholy.

The two stared longingly at each other, a thick saliva trail bridging their mouths as the stable torches threatened to dim into nothing with tje intensifying winds, the cool light gave a mystifying effect that made Marianne nothing short of an enchantress, and Dimitri the icon of a future Marianne never considered for herself.

No words were shared between the two as Dimitri lifted Marianne off her feet and carried her back to her dorm. Perhaps she could sneak in one more kiss for tonight, both as a good night and as a goodbye.

Well, assuming this really was the last their lips would meet. Only the goddess knew the answer to that, and despite the cycnisism amidst their faiths, they held hope in her plans.

Dimitri laid in bed. It was a few minutes past the midnight hour. Normally he'd be out and about in the monastery. The guards that roamed it knew him by then, if anything they'd find it strange if he wasn't roaming around, like he was right now. 

He could recall Sylvain saying he could have been night-stalking, a clear projection that seemed to have upset Edelgard specifically. Odd. Anyways, Dimitri just laid there in bed.

He had done it. He'd taken the ten. Plus Hapi and Constance, and a bunch of others. Today (now technically yesterday) has been nothing but a strange string of these meetings, and he was left to reflect on what this meant.

It had to have been a portent of something, what specifically however eluded him. Faerghus had been bedevilled by many evils throughout Dimitri’s lifespan, he did not know if he could lead his people through one like his father before him, and the kings even further back. It could have even been a warning, urging him to find a consort and make an heir to preserve his crested bloodline. 

For once, Dimitri hoped it was instead a sign that good things were coming.

A knock came on the door, Dimitri perked his head up. Who could be knocking on his door at this hour? He was probably just hearing things, except the knocks kept coming.

It couldn't have been either Dedue or Sylvain, since they'd say something. The person at his doorstep was silent. Dimitri immediately thought of The Death Knight of all people. It wasn't entirely far-fetched of an assumption. The fiend did kidnap Flayn after all, and the Blue Lions clashed with him yet again at Remire not too long ago. He recalled ripping the man's scythe from his grasp and striking him with a knightkneeler, though the knight sacrificed his misfortunare destrier whose head was thus torn from its shoulders as the knight disarmed him and then fled behind a row of Solon's sorcerers.

The idea of him returning for a rematch at this hour under the guise of a friend wasn't too unlikely. Dimitri remained silent, but rhe knocks kept coming. 

No, the knocks seemed light. He knows the sound of heavy armor on wood, it had a heft to it that made sense to him. This one came from an unarmored hand. 

It could've been Marianne.

Dimitri silently got up from bed and walked over to the door. He held the doorknob and took a deep breath. 

Perhaps those kisses were some solace before the end.

Dimitri swung the door open. “Marianne?” he called out quietly. 

“Marianne? You got her too, your highness?” asked Byleth, her face was what was on the other side of the door.

“Oh! Professor!” Dimitri opened the door fully. “How strange of you to approach me at this hour. What can I help you with?”

“I know well that you stay up at night, and the guards told me you weren't in your usual haunts, meaning you had to be here,” Byleth explained, giving her student a small smile. “I came here because I wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?” Dimitri gulped. “Professor, this isn't about-”

“It is, Dimitri. This is about that. I don’t want to talk about this here though. Not with Sylvain’s room being so close,” Byleth nodded to the door next to them, the last one in the nobles’ hallway. “Come on, follow me.”

Dimitri nodded. He took his room keys, locked his door shut, and followed his teacher. His heart pounded. Professor Byleth was definitely going to reprimand him. After all, the day of kisses was already over, his magic had run its course. Cold hard reality was setting back in.

He followed her all the way to the cathedral, whose main gate had been closed down, blocking anyone from entering. Byleth however skillfully climbed a section on the right wall, and Dimitri would follow her through there.

The cathedral doors were incredibly heavy, requiring loads of men in order to open and close. As a result, it was left always open and to be closed only in times when the monastery itself became the site of crisis. 

Dimitri wondered, what if there was a point where the monastery was abandoned. Would he be able to open these doors by himself?

He looked to the left where the tower was and wondered if his professor was to take him there, but instead she took him deeper in until they reached a section containing four saint statues. The professor had taken to having them restored and/or improved upon at the suggestion of the archbishop.

Lady Rhea could have definitely done it herself, but likely saw an opportunity to sow seeds of loyalty into the soil of Byleth’s mind, eager to irrigate crops of religiosity given her apparent connection to the goddess.

He honestly didn't even think about that. In a way, it was like the goddess was whisking him into her holy house, all after what's happened. It was like a ridiculous fable. 

There the two of them stood, hidden away from the world.

“So, I heard that you've been smooching girls.” Byleth kept her back turned to Dimitri, her eyes looking at the statue of Saint Cethleann, clearly trying to look at anything but him for the moment.

Dimitri held his head down. “It's true, professor.” There was definitely no point in denying it. He'd done it all day, and he'd likely find himself doing it from time to time for the rest of his life, a rumor that will never fade. He will admit, he did wonder how that little factoid would fare in the realms of the noble courts. It could project and propagate a dangerous yet ultimately effective sense of masculine power, virility specifically. It could also… No actually that was about it. Then again, his mind was tired and his professor has dragged him all the way out here asking about it like everyone else.

“How many are true?”

“...all of them?” Dimitri winced at his choice of words. He could see his professor audibly flinch at his choice of answer.

“Everyone? The does? The eagles? The lionesses? The she-wolves? The older women?”

“There is plenty of overlap between older women and-”

Byleth turned around, she pouted as she stomped her foot. Dimitri flinched, he could feel a potent flaming aura radiate from her. 

“Even Manuela?”

“She approached me.”

“So that's why Balthus was happy this evening,” Byleth’s grimace refused to leave, it threatened to immortalized itself onto her normally blank canvas she called her face. The one that her enemies saw, and sowed her legend as the ashen demon. 

“Even Edelgard?”

Dimitri tensed. “Professor, plea-”

“Even Edelgard?”

“...even her.”

Byleth crossed her arms. “You've been a naughty naughty boy, your highness.”

“I… apologize, professor.”

“I might just have to strip you of your paladin license, see you fight without your horse.”

“Wh-what?! Professor! There's no need to drag my grades into this…”

“I don't know,” Byleth swayed from side to side. “You've exhibited behavior unbefitting of the position, which goes double with your impending status as king. Though I could forgive you…”

“Please, professor, reconsider.”

“I'll do it for a price,” Byleth winked, a grin appeared on her. She was even using her mercenary voice, a kind of gruff and cruel tone made to accompany her when she sought something out of someone. No doubt a trick of her trade. Or perhaps it was simply the tone of voice she took when she felt like exercising the prowess that resulted from her unconventional upbringing, something that has only escalated following her meteoric rise in status. 

Byleth gave out a peck with her lips in the air. Dimitri’s heart skipped a beat as red filled his cheeks. 

His own professor? This was so dirty… Sure, it was just a kiss, but then again, with her new position, what more could she want from him?

Still, Dimitri obeyed his professor, caving to her elegant savagery. He reached out to her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he aimed for her cheek.

Yeah no, it was wayyyy too late for that. Byleth grabbed Dimitri by the throat as she locked lips with him. The crown prince moaned as he felt her tongue invade his mouth and thrash about, her strong and calloused hands quickly groping his butt.

Dimitri was overwhelmed by his professor’s overpowering display. On one end, it was his wildest dreams come true. He always did have an eye for the professor. Her skill, her perspective, her appetite, but on the other… to actually be on the receiving end of the ashen demon's rampage imbued him with a terrifying feeling.

He'd faced his teacher plenty of times prior to this moment. With swords and lances, on foot and on hoof, on floors and fields, but never like this. 

Dimitri felt Byleth lift him up as she pressed him carelessly onto one of the statues. Was she actually going to claim him in this sudden midnight courting? The thought gave Dimitri goosebumps. The idea of mating with her (listen, he'd try to make love, but this is Byleth we're talking about) causing the destruction of these statues all the while happening at the cathedral itself would be the scandal of the century. 

“Ahem,” came a grunt, the authoritative clearing of one's throat which caused even Byleth to pause. She broke the kiss, a bridge of slobber lingering between her and her prey, who tried to remain conscious as she fried his poor brain. 

Cross-eyed, Dimitri was seeing blurry doubles. Though the voice was clear, and it was enough to straighten him back to his senses.

“To have a tryst in the cathedral before the saints themselves,” Archbishop Rhea growled. “How blasphemous.”

“Lady Rhea, I can explai-”

“Silence, Blaiddyd,” Rhea's voice shook both Dimitri and Byleth, it echoed in a way that made it feel like the ground was shaking. She spoke to Dimitri as if he were the dark knight Blaiddyd himself, seeing only the crest rather than the man. “I've been hearing quite the tales about you. You and your public displays of affection, a blatant misuse of your position with hints of scheming.”

Dimitri winced. 

“A man like you, smooching so many. How uncouth. I thought you were to be a Faerghian King, not an Adrestian Emperor, even Blaiddyd himself was quite dedicated to only one woman, when he was alive,” Rhea spoke as if she knew the man personally. Seeing as she was the archbishop and probably related to Seiros herself, she was well-studied in everything there was to know of the man, perhaps even more so than the man's own descendants. “Though I suppose you take more after Loog's lion than the wolf himself.”

Rhea placed her hands on Dimitri’s shoulders. They had a warrior's weight to them, something he wasn't expecting. Dimitri looked up at the woman, afraid of what she was going to do. She was the church itself, bequeathed a title, position, and power that put her in direct contact with the goddess. What could she do that-

Oh. 

Oh no.

Rhea laid her lips upon Dimitri’s. The crown prince went cold as he felt the holiest woman in the continent kiss him. Deeply, no less. She kissed exactly like Byleth, only her arms wrapped around his torso rather than having her hands cup his ass.

“Hey! No fair!” Byleth scowled. “I've been waiting all night to kiss him!”

“Oh my dear Byleth,” Rhea purred as she broke her kiss with Dimitri to speak, saliva still connecting their tongues. “The mercenary life still lingers in you, the goddess’ grace is yet to fully manifest despite the growth of your connection.”

Byleth put her hands on her hips. “Back. Off.”

“Is that a challenge?” Rhea held Dimitri close to her body. She cupped Dimitri’s cheeks with her hand. “The goddess is a woman with many children, and not just figuratively either. You may be able to best anyone in battle, but this is a far different labor. Do you wish to test your divinity upon his highness?”

Dimitri flinched as Rhea then grabbed his ass, his heart raced. This had to have been a nightmare, a really realistic nightmare. Admittedly arousing, but still frightening for his poor heart. Lady Rhea acting so… bestially in this sudden confrontation with Byleth was just one of the many things that bewildered him this night.

“I'll prove it,” Byleth walked up to her, eyes filled with determination. Together they neared Dimitri, who could only watch. He felt both girls kiss him now, two tongues completely overwhelming his, filling his mouth. Dimitri’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he found himself consumed by two women of the goddess.

Didn't even need any mistletoe either.

Dimitri awoke to a mysterious place. Where was he? Last he remembered he was being orally annihilated by both Professor Byleth and Lady Rhea. Surely that was just an exceedingly vivid nightmare given that he's woken, but somehow, this place felt more dreamlike than the other.

He stood in darkness, save for a soft light which cast down before a humble throne. There he saw a petite woman, green of hair, sitting with her eyes locked upon him.

“I must say, whatever it is you did, you racked up so much… love energy it's overflowing, I really do have you to thank, whether you intended to or not,” said the mysterious woman.

“Uh…” Dimitri was speechless. He approached the woman slowly, one armed reached out. The woman gave a saintly smile as she floated off her throne. From there, energies emerged from Dimitri, as if taken from the kisses he'd amassed, and they swarmed around her and turned her into a more complete version of herself.

Now this, Dimitri recognized this.

He saw it for the first time as a little boy, then many days after that. This woman was everywhere, in every other sentence, all across the continent. Someone of much importance to his father, and his father before. To Loog and presumably even to Blaiddyd himself.

“My goddess,” Dimitri knelt down. 

“Rise,” Sothis said as she floated over to Dimitri. He did so, but could not look at her. He'd had his feelings over the goddess over the course of his life. Questions of her power, her benevolence, her very existence, the same old questions everyone asks. Now that she was here, those curious pursuits evaporated, replaced with a feeling of certainty he could not explain.

“Gaze upon me,” she said, and he did. He locked eyes with her.

“It… it is an honor, your almighty grace,” Dimitri couldn't help but bow. “My goddess, the goddess. I can't. I don’t… I… my father, is he-”

“You have a lot on your mind.”

“I do,” Dimitri responded. “I… what have I done to have an audience with you?”

“You've done well. That is what you have done. I am proud of you.”

Dimitri smiled. Coming from the goddess, that meant… everything. He felt a great weight suddenly just leave his shoulders. An emancipating vindication that made him feel nothing short of euphoric.

“What do you wish of me, my goddess?”

“Kiss me.”

Dimitri froze. 

“W-w-what?”

“You heard me, Dimitri. Kiss me. Kiss your goddess. You've kissed my daughter, and my vessel. Or rather they kissed you. Something about that delighted me far more than it should. Now it is my turn.”

“I… I…” Dimitri shook. “I can't! My goddess, please, I am but your humble servant, a faithful-”

“Defile your goddess with your mortal lips this instant!”

Dimitri froze. The sheer blasphemy, but… but it was from the goddess. This didn't make any sense! He couldn't-

Before he could think any further, his spirit stirred, eager to be with his goddess as if he was rejoining a greater whole. Spirit to spirit, Sothis embraced him. He felt her infinite grace as they made contact. This raw flame of creation. This fiery emblem that birthed the continent. It was all over his soul now.

He felt his human presence corrupt it, and how she relished in it. Sothis kissed him, this potent rejuvenation causing her base instincts to fire on all cylinders. Dimitri tried to resist her, but his grimm crest was no match for Sothis, for she was the innermost source of its power, and here in this odd astral plane, she turned it upon Dimitri.

Now, anytime he saw the goddess, be it at mass, or discussing with a friend, or even just a simple illustration. His mind will fall back to this moment.

Dimitri ate a simple bowl of cereal for breakfast today. Founding day was coming up and he had to do a lot with his fellow house leaders. 

Though in this case it was just him at the cafeteria. Well, him and Claude. He dreaded Edelgard’s eventual arrival. 

“Woah, your highness,” Claude said with concern as he sat beside him. “You look terrible. Those girls didn’t give you too much trouble, right?”

“I had a really bad dream last night.”

“Goddess, man, that sucks.”

“You can say that again!” Sothis chirped inside Dimitri’s mind. The mysterious dream he had opened a tether between him and Byleth’s goddess-sanctum, allowing Sothis (who was now back to her original form, as her transformation was temporary, a holiday miracle, it you will) to access his mind.

With this, she forcibly shut off the voices in his head, but as a result was now the new one, far louder and able to affect his soul, especially when he was asleep.

“Listen man, I'm sorry for holding up all the mistletoes. We didn't expect someone to keep running into them like you did.”

“It's fine, Claude, just… I think I need to go to bed.”