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Sylvain couldn’t stop laughing.
“All…all that over a—a bunny!” he breathed out between the cackles.
Shez bared his slender fangs. “You don’t get it!” the otter snarled, tail lashing in irritation. “She’s terrifying! A heartless monster!”
As one, their group looked to the far edge of the dining hall, where the kingdom army’s newest recruit sat by herself. Her big floppy ears twitched as she munched on a carrot, placid and blank-faced.
“Oh. Yes. Absolutely terrifying.” Sylvain’s laughter had subsided into a mischievous smile. “I can definitely see why you’d be so scared of the Ashen Bunny.”
Shez launched into a tirade of his foe’s numerous atrocities, flushed with embarrassment, but Sylvain was impervious to his anger. Dimitri hadn’t seen the fox so amused since the day he’d foolishly admitted to giving his stepsister a dagger. Instinct urged him to defend his friend from the mockery, but—well, it was hard not to agree with Sylvain’s assessment.
The Ashen Demon being a rabbit was a shock to all. From the tales Shez had told, Dimitri had always assumed she was an apex predator of some sort, most likely a proud Faerghan wolf like the Blade Breaker. At the very least, he’d expected a lesser wolf or a dog, as comprised most of Jeralt’s Mercenaries. Even a wildcat or falcon would have made some amount of sense. But a rabbit…
Dimitri found his gaze drawn back to her. His eyes lingered on the soft, velvety fur of her ears. The lines of her body, gentle curves rather than flat muscle. And her pert, puffball of a tail, sitting just above her rear…
He dragged his tongue slowly across his fangs, salivating.
“Everything all right over there, Your Majesty?”
Dimitri blinked slowly. It took him a moment to understand why all of his companions were staring at him, expressions ranging from amusement to disgust. He fell back into his seat when realization struck, mortified as he hurriedly wiped away his drool. Even Dedue was raising a silent eyebrow.
Ogling a woman just because she was prey—Dimitri wanted to snarl at himself. He truly was a wild beast.
At least his blunder took Sylvain’s attention off of Shez. Dimitri hunched his shoulders to bury the lower half of his face in his mane, enduring the laughter with a shameful blush. He’d brought this on himself by not defending Shez earlier. It was deserved.
“Ugh. I thought you could at least control those instincts,” Felix interjected with a scowl. “A king can’t be slobbering over his subjects, Boar. Are you trying to turn into your uncle?”
Dimitri winced. It was true that male lions had a…reputation, one that his uncle and many past Blaiddyds had happily indulged in. Dimitri had thought himself free of that sin at least, but clearly he was even more of a beast than he’d realized.
“And you—” Felix hissed at Sylvain, ears pinned back. “Don’t you know by now that it doesn’t matter if you’re predator or prey? What matters is if you can fight!”
His long black tail was twitching when he jumped up from the table. The topic had always been a sore spot for Felix—despite his sharp claws and deadly fangs, a lifetime’s worth of teasing for being a ‘house pet’ had made the cat sensitive to any perceived slight.
Sylvain raised his hands in a placating manner. “Calm down, Fe. I’m sure she’s good for a rabbit, but—”
“Like you can talk!” Felix scoffed. His nose was scrunched up like he’d smelled something rotten. “With how little you train, I bet the Ashen Demon would trounce you in a second.”
“Well, you know. I am a man of love, not war.” Sylvain’s lazy posture proclaimed nonchalance, but Dimitri could see the tension in his tail. “Felix. I’m not fighting a bunny.”
“That demon would probably see it as flirting,” Shez muttered under his breath.
Felix ignored the otter. The fur on his tail was puffed up threateningly. “Why not? Are you scared?”
“Of course not.” Sylvain’s smile was all fangs. He rose from his seat with languid grace, expression never faltering. “Shez has a good point. Maybe I can score a date if I humour her with a spar—she is a tasty-looking morsel, after all.”
A low, rumbling noise caused everyone to freeze. It took Dimitri a moment to realize the sound was coming from his own chest. He stopped the growl before it could become a roar, but it was too late. Sylvain’s glee promised trouble.
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” he said cheerfully. “I’m always happy to share. And you know what they say about rabbits!”
Sylvain danced away before the instinctual swipe of Dimitri’s claws could hit. Part of him was relieved not to have accidentally hurt his friend, but the larger part was too consumed by mortification and alarm to care. He half stood from the bench, but Sylvan was already long gone. Dimitri could only watch, claws flexing uneasily, as the fox sauntered over to where Byleth sat.
“Oh, this is going to be good.” Felix’s ears were pricked forward, satisfaction clear in his smirk. “I can’t wait to see that fox get what he deserves. Maybe he’ll actually come to the training grounds with me now.”
Dimitri tore his gaze away from where Sylvain was leaning over the rabbit, his bushy tail raised high. “Are you truly that confident she will win?”
He wasn’t so sure. Sylvain did tend to skip training sessions, but he was still a skilled fighter who tore through the battlefield without mercy. And Byleth was a rabbit, no matter her reputation. It wasn’t unheard of for prey to fight—Annette would surely be outraged by their conversation if she ever caught wind of it. But a chipmunk like her or a sheep like Mercedes usually favoured archery or magic, keeping their distance from the frontlines.
“Hmph. There’s no question.” Felix was practically purring. “I’ve never crossed blades with her myself, but from what I saw of her in our last battle…”
Dimitri turned his attention back to the pair. Sylvain’s smile was dreadfully flirtatious, but Byleth’s blank expression hadn’t changed. She stared up at him without blinking, her nose twitching cutely as she chewed through a heap of lettuce. The moment he finished speaking, she stuffed the remaining food into her mouth and bounced up, still eating even as she strode off toward the training grounds. Sylvain hurried to follow, Felix and Shez not far behind.
Dimitri hesitated. He itched to join his companions on the training grounds—to ensure Sylvain did nothing inappropriate, of course!—but with how he’d been reacting to Byleth, it was surely better that he stayed away. And besides, he was the king. It was unlikely that he even had time to waste watching a spar.
Beside him, Dedue calmly finished his meal. “There is still an hour until your next meeting, Your Majesty,” the bear stated. Though his voice sounded indifferent, his gaze was knowing. “Enough time for a walk around camp.”
“Ah. Yes. Right.” Dimitri sprang up, eagerly grabbing at the excuse. Patrolling his territory was one instinct that he’d never been able to keep under control. The army was accustomed to the habit by now, and bafflingly, even took comfort in it. And if the training grounds just so happened to be on the edge of camp, surely it would be stranger for him not to stop and watch.
By the time they arrived a few minutes later, the match had already begun. Dimitri lingered in the shadows off to the side, taking in the scene.
Sylvain was still grinning as he jabbed his lance, forcing Byleth to keep her distance. Dimitri raised an eyebrow. The fox must have been more worried about losing than he’d let on—choosing a weapon that gave him an advantage when he already had the benefits of size and predatory instincts was hardly gentlemanly.
It was difficult to focus on Sylvain for long though, not when his traitorous gaze was drawn toward the fox’s opponent. Byleth moved quickly, faster than anyone Dimitri had ever seen. She bounced between Sylvain’s attacks with ease, agile and elegant as she darted in for sharp strikes before dodging back to safety. Her every movement was graceful yet deadly, unpredictable yet perfectly controlled.
Dimitri couldn’t look away. His instincts screamed at him to pounce while she was distracted, to hunt, to pin her to the ground…
With a snarl, Sylvain lunged forward a little too forcefully. It was all the opportunity that Byleth needed. Deflecting his lance with her sword, she bounced forward and spun, lifting her leg faster than the eye could follow. Before Sylvain could react, she kicked him squarely in the face.
A crunch echoed in the training grounds. Sylvain cried out, dropping his lance and stumbling back. He pressed a hand to his face, but Dimitri could smell the blood.
Byleth watched him, her expression just as blank as it had been in the dining hall. When Sylvain failed to jump back into battle, she lowered her leg. Her powerful leg. Her leg that Dimitri had assumed to be soft and pliant, but that instead hid strong muscles, which would surely be firm beneath his claws…
He wiped the drool from his mouth for a second time that day.
Felix wasted no time in approaching Byleth, undoubtedly requesting a spar of his own. The twitch of one long, velvety ear was her only acknowledgement as she surveyed the training grounds with the sharp, quick glances of prey.
When her eyes met Dimitri’s, she stilled.
Prey were often still, especially when faced with a predator. But her stillness wasn’t that of a scared rabbit. It was poised. Assessing. Unnatural.
Like she was the predator preparing for a hunt.
Dimitri shivered, all of his fur standing on end. Perhaps Shez was right. Perhaps the Ashen Demon was dangerous.
His pulse quickened with something that wasn’t fear.
The next morning, there was a dead boar waiting outside his tent.
It was unharmed other than the single, decisive cut of a sword through its throat. After Mercedes checked it for poisons, Dedue roasted the boar and served it to their companions in an impromptu gathering.
Dimitri was given the largest portion. He couldn’t taste the meat, but the smell of it roasting over the flames was mouth-watering enough that he devoured the slab with more enthusiasm than he had in years.
As he licked the remains from his fangs, his fur stood on end. He whipped around, but his hunter was faster, vanishing without a sound. The only glimpse he caught was the tip of a pale green ear, soft and tempting.
Three days later, there was a second boar outside his tent.
Savage beast!
Monster!
Failure!
Dimitri prowled the forest surrounding their new camp, but his movements were pure instinct. He was panting heavily, ears pinned flat against his head. His mind was too distracted to focus on anything other than the screams of the dead, echoing through the trees. They were louder than usual tonight. Berating him for the lives he’d taken in battle, for failing to avenge them, for living when he should have died. He craved a distraction. Anything—anything—!
Movement from the corner of his eye.
Dimitri pounced. In one leap he landed on the back of the fleeing deer, his claws digging into its sides as it faltered beneath his weight. Before it could struggle free, he locked his jaws around the back of the its neck and bit down, hard.
The bone snapped between his teeth.
He remained in place, fangs fastened in its flesh, until the deer’s twitching body stilled. Satisfaction at a successful hunt filled him. He was protecting his territory, he was providing for his subjects, he was—
A beast covered in blood. Stepmother watched him from the trees above, her wings ruffling with disdain. You lions bring nothing but death wherever you tread. Such rabid creatures…and yet you wonder why I wanted to escape…
That aching, painful emptiness returned in full force. Dimitri roared. He sank his claws deeper into the deer’s flanks, then tore them free. Again and again and again, flesh ripping beneath his hands, bones crushing in his mouth, the destruction and rage filling the hole in his heart.
The moon was high when he finally stilled.
Dimitri was breathing heavily. Awareness came to him slowly at first, then hit him all at once. He was covered in blood and gore. The deer that might have fed and clothed his people was a mangled mess. All because of his uncontrollable anger, his brutish strength, his hands that were only good for destruction.
He tore off his armour in a frenzy, but the blood on his face—beneath his claws, in his hair, his mane, everywhere—was impossible to scrub away. Each swipe of his hand only replaced it with more, a fitting symbol of the darkness that stained his soul.
His agonized roar ended in a pathetic whimper. Dimitri curled in on himself as tightly as he could, hiding from his sins. But the dead would not let him forget. They laughed, screamed, mocked him, taunted him, gathered all around the pitiful lion who’d failed them, time and time again…
Someone was watching him.
Dimitri uncoiled, lashing out instinctually. His claws met only empty air though, as his assailant leapt agilely over his attack and landed on his back. He thrashed just like the fallen deer, twisting his head with a vicious snarl until a hand sank into his mane, firm and unforgiving. His instincts were torn in two, half urging him to submit, half demanding that he fight against this insolent foe. The desire to dominate won out as he continued to roar and struggle, but his hunter only wrapped her legs around his waist, securing her position despite his efforts to throw her.
At any moment, he expected to feel fangs snapping at his exposed skin. His mane was thick enough to protect against the bites of fellow lions, but he’d foolishly removed his armour. It would be easy to slip a blade into his heart, to sink claws into his eyes, to rip his flesh with fangs.
When his hunter pressed her face into the back of his mane, Dimitri tensed. Perhaps she was unfamiliar with lions. If she made the mistake of trying to bite through his fur, he would have a second to retaliate, to throw her off and pin her—
“Hm. Soft.”
Her hand maintained its firm grip, but the nuzzles into his mane were gentle. Dimitri paused in his thrashing, finally taking the time to evaluate his attacker. Her scent was familiar. Her flat voice was one that he’d heard before. Her legs were fiercely strong, a contrast to the softness of her upper body pressed tight to his back.
Dimitri warily retracted his claws. “…Byleth?”
She hummed in acknowledgement, still rubbing her face into his mane. Despite his confusion, Dimitri found the gesture oddly comforting. Something about the closeness, the affection, loosened his limbs with warmth, until he found himself lying back on the ground. Byleth finally released him, stroking his mane soothingly. After a few minutes, she repeated the motion on his hair, then scratched lightly behind his ears. Dimitri rumbled at her touch, pliant and comfortable.
Realization came slowly through his haze of pleasure. Lions were social animals. Physical affection was an instinctual need they craved, even stronger than their lust for violence or dominance. But it had been so long since he’d last felt such closeness…since his father, since Duscur…
His uncle had reviled him. His oldest friends didn’t understand, their own instincts inclined to solitude. Dedue had tried, especially when they were younger, but bears had no instinct for pack life, and even less tolerance for cuddling. He would have endured it for Dimitri’s sake, but Dimitri couldn’t stand to force such discomfort on his friend.
And so he’d walked alone, a lion without a pride. Cold and empty and longing for something he couldn’t name.
Dimitri stretched lazily, drowsy and content. He rolled onto his side, turning his head to butt it gently against Byleth’s. When she didn’t pull away, he reached for one of her ears, savouring the velvety soft fur beneath his fingers. Without thinking it through, he leaned up and dragged his tongue along its back.
The high-pitched noise she made caused him to salivate. “It tickles,” Byleth murmured, tilting her ear to grant him a better angle. Dimitri didn’t hesitate to oblige her.
Once he was finally satisfied, Dimitri flopped back on the ground. He couldn’t help but smile as he met Byleth’s large, unblinking eyes. He still wasn’t sure why she’d pounced on him in the middle of the night, nor why she was so keen on cuddling, but he couldn’t complain. It wouldn’t be right for him to indulge in such activities often, especially not with an unmarried woman, but perhaps once in a while, when there was no one to see them, Byleth might be amenable to—
To leaning in and kissing him.
It was brief, but confident and deliberate, like everything else she did. Her expression was as blank as ever when she broke away, but there was no misinterpreting her joy—Byleth sprang up without a word, bouncing energetically around him.
Baffled—though not displeased—Dimitri pressed a hand to his lips. There was an unexpected tackiness clinging to his skin, unpleasant but familiar. He swiped his tongue along his lips as he considered the possible meaning behind Byleth’s kiss, but his thoughts screeched to a halt when he remembered what covered his face.
“Byleth—!” Dimitri gasped out. He wiped futilely at the deer’s blood once again, certain that the rabbit would be disgusted when she realized the truth of what he was.
At the sound of her name, Byleth flopped contentedly back onto the ground beside him, her limbs splayed without concern. To his horror, Dimitri saw that her own lips were now stained with blood.
“Byleth, I am—I am so sorry—”
She cut him off with an affectionate headbutt. “I was raised by a pack of wolves,” Byleth stated bluntly. She reached for something at her side, but rather than the dagger he’d expected, she held up a waterskin.
Without another word, she tore a strip off her coat and dampened it, then began to methodically clean away his gore. Despite the efficiency of her movements, her touch remained gentle, urging him to give in and relax.
“I…” It was a struggle to collect his thoughts, but Dimitri persisted. “Byleth. What is…why are you doing this? Why did you…” Kiss me, he finished to himself.
Byleth hummed as she grabbed one of his hands. She pressed her thumb into the palm until his claws slid out, scrubbing away at the dried blood beneath. “Because I caught you,” she said, pausing in her work long enough to meet his gaze directly. “You’re mine now.”
It took Dimitri a moment to understand what she meant. Heat rushed to his face when the realization finally hit.
It…it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was a lion. She was a rabbit. Part of him was mortified at being treated like prey by a bunny of all people. Clearly, growing up around wolves had given Byleth a skewed idea about her role in courtship.
And yet…
Dimitri couldn’t say he was unhappy about this strange turn of events. It was an unconventional start to a relationship, yes, but not unwelcome. If he wanted the people of Faerghus to become more open-minded, he really should lead by example.
And besides, Byleth had unwisely lowered her guard. It would be far, far too easy for him to pin her to the ground, and see what happened next.
His fangs glinted in the moonlight when he pounced.