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Byleth's breath catches as she steps into the immense ballroom, her eyes going wide as she takes in the recent changes. The morning light glints off the seemingly thousands of crystals hanging from the walls and ceiling. Numerous servants dart back and forth, bowing to her quickly before they resume their task. Byleth watches them pass the individual strings of colored glass between each other in an impressive display of efficiency and speed as they continue to transform the room into something out of a fairytale.
Even unfinished, Byleth's never seen the space look so gorgeous—not that they have had much excuse to throw a proper party in the royal ballroom recently. But now, with Fhirdiad and the rest of Fódlan on the mend, there is time for frivolities and fun, time to celebrate after so many years of suffering.
Byleth glances down at the ring on her finger that is the reason for all of this. The green stone glimmers as if inspired by the surrounding beauty. Byleth's chest tightens as a surge of emotions fills her: elation, a touch of disbelief, but most potent of all is a warmth that permeates her bones, which she now understands is love. Will she ever be able to look at her engagement ring without being overcome?
Byleth takes a deep breath and returns to her observation of the ballroom. Dimitri has banned her from helping plan their lavish engagement party, promising he has everything in hand, but she can't contain her curious nature. She doesn't see her fiancé here at the moment. She assumed he was headed here to check on the progress of the decorating committee, but there is no head of golden hair among the workers. She should have asked before he left their chambers, but she had still been half asleep when he woke, leaving her wrapped in cooling bed sheets after pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
She makes her way toward Dedue, visible in the far corner thanks to his height. He is overseeing two men on extraordinarily tall ladders who appear to be changing the curtains over the massive windows. The dark blue fabric they are passing between each other glitters as if stars are trapped within the folds of it.
"Your Excellency." Dedue bows when he notices her.
"Dedue, how many times do I have to tell you to use my name outside of official functions?" She and Dimitri remind Dedue of this almost daily. She wonders how long it will be before they get through to him.
"I am here in an official capacity, overseeing the preparations," Dedue says. Byleth stifles a sigh. "Are you in need of my assistance?"
"Oh no, I was just looking for Dimitri." She glances around as if she might have missed him, although she knows that isn't the case. "He doesn't have any meetings this morning, so I assumed he would be here."
"His Majesty was here earlier. I believe he—"
"Beloved!" Dimitri calls out, cutting Dedue off and answering Byleth's query with his presence. "What are you doing here?"
Byleth turns and the surrounding beauty of the ballroom fades into the background as her entire attention is captured by Dimitri. The light pouring through the windows seems to spotlight him, catching in his hair and his eye as if he is one of the many crystals decorating the space, the most beautiful one of all.
He strides toward them, those ridiculously long legs of his crossing the distance quickly. He's dressed all in black, as is typical of him. The man acts like he is allergic to any color that is not black, gray, or dark blue, but given that it is the Garland Moon and the weather has warmed, he is wearing a lighter blend that clings to his broad shoulders and flows around his narrow waist. He's even left the top two buttons open, allowing a tiny sliver of skin to show. Almost everyone in the room has done the same, but for Dimitri, such a display is akin to having his full chest exposed.
Byleth lifts her head as Dimitri approaches, not wanting to be caught staring. She cranes her chin up until she makes contact with his stunning blue eye. Byleth thought she became emotional looking at her ring, but in the presence of her fiancé, her heart feels as if it may burst, despite the fact that it does not beat. Sometimes she swears it tries to stutter in Dimitri's presence as if it is desperate to pronounce that it belongs to this man.
Dimitri takes one of Byleth's hands in both of his and Dedue turns to the windows to give them a semblance of privacy. The soft fabric of her fiancé's gloves brushes against her skin. By the time Byleth realizes she hasn't answered Dimitri's question, he is talking again.
"I told you I had everything in hand."
"I know." Just as she finds her tongue, Dimitri brings her fingers to his lips and gently kisses them, causing her to lose her grasp on words all over again. Heat floods her face even though she should be used to Dimitri's affectionate gestures by now.
She's known Dimitri for years, loved him for almost the same amount of time, but something about seeing him like this—happy, healthy, thriving—his eye sparkling with joy, his hair clean and pulled back, his cheeks nearly as flushed as hers—reduces Byleth to a blushing mess every time without fail.
"I just wanted to check in." Byleth's voice remains calm, even as her knees go weak when Dimitri presses another soft kiss to her knuckles. "It looks beautiful in here."
"Doesn't it?" Dimitri drops her hand as he spreads his arms wide. "I am so pleased with the progress, but it will look even better in a week's time." Dimitri's grin is infectious, and Byleth finds herself smiling too.
"I did not expect you to be so involved in all of this," Byleth says. "I was under the impression that you weren't a fan of balls."
"Ah, yes, well I can see why you would think that." Dimitri's smile falters for a moment, and Byleth immediately wants to do whatever she can to return it to his handsome face. "I admit, at the academy I was not at all enthused by the Officer's ball, or by the fact that you chose me to be the participant for the White Heron Cup."
Byleth bites her lip to hide her smirk. As upset as Dimitri was over having to represent their class, she knows he still has the dancer outfit hidden away in his wardrobe.
Byleth tucks herself against Dimitri's side, reaching up to run a finger over the crease in his brow until he leans into her touch. "So what you are saying is, you do like to dance, then?" Byleth teases softly. She is pleased to see a smile once again tugging at Dimitri's lips.
"What I am saying—" Dimitri cups her hand, leaning his cheek into her palm, "—is that I do not detest dancing nearly so much as I had insisted then. And I am very excited to finally be able to dance with you. You don't know how badly I wanted to ask you to be my partner at the Officer's Ball."
"You should have," Byleth murmurs, even though she knows all the reasons why he didn't, why she couldn't.
"I almost did when I saw you dancing with Claude. I was so jealous," Dimitri admits.
"Oh, you know Claude. He danced with everyone. Even Hanneman."
"Still." Dimitri draws her closer, placing both of his hands around her waist. "Seeing him touch you how I had been yearning to, watching him whisper in your ear. It was torture."
"He isn't here now," Byleth murmurs, deciding not to remind Dimitri that Claude is invited to their engagement party.
"True." Dimitri's grip on her tightens momentarily before he visibly forces himself to relax. She is one of the few people who can withstand his strength, but she appreciates his attempts to be gentle. "We might be in the way, though."
Dimitri looks around nervously, and Byleth is suddenly reminded that they are not alone and they very well may be disrupting others. To her surprise, there is actually a fairly large space around them and many of the workers seem absent. Dedue's doing most likely, as he seems to have disappeared as well. She will have to remember to thank him later.
"Dance with me," Byleth encourages him.
"Right now?" Dimitri closes the last bit of space between their bodies, his lips brushing against her ear as they begin to sway together.
"Mhmm." Byleth rests her head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat for a moment before she lifts her gaze upward. "Please? I don't want to wait."
It hasn't really registered to her that they have never danced together before until just now. Even at Dimitri's coronation, which was the only other formal event that she has attended, there had been very little actual merriment. They were still at war then, still so focused on toppling the Empire that it seemed silly to throw a full celebration when they might not live to see the next moon. She suddenly wants the experience more than anything, even though she is aware there will be countless more balls in their future.
"Anything for my queen," Dimitri murmurs, and oh—that is the first time he has ever called her that. She can't suppress the full-body shiver that runs down her spine at the utterance of her future title.
Dimitri lifts his arms; the right one grasps her hand, placing it on his shoulder before drifting to the top of her ribcage, and the left grips her palm tightly, lifting their joined hands into the air.
"I don't actually know how to dance properly," Byleth says when Dimitri begins to move his feet back and forth, twisting her from side-to-side. She has danced, of course, but even at the Officer's Ball, she did not follow any steps or patterns; she just danced. Faerghan balls are a different matter, much more formal and choreographed.
The rush of shame she feels at her limited dancing education is unexpected, but she suddenly does not want to embarrass Dimitri in front of his peers and friends, even if no one would dare speak ill of her if she did. She is the archbishop. It doesn't matter if she knows how to dance properly, except it suddenly does.
"Let me lead you." Dimitri slows his movements, letting her copy his footwork, his smile growing impossibly wider when she begins to catch on. "You are always teaching me. It is a welcome chance to be able to do so for you."
Byleth relaxes further into Dimitri's arms, trying not to overthink the steps and allowing Dimitri to adjust her position when she does. She stumbles once, but she is never in any danger of falling with Dimitri's arms around her. He lifts her off her feet entirely when she loses her footing, making sure she is steady before continuing their waltz. The more Byleth concentrates on Dimitri and not her own clumsy body, the easier it gets to follow him.
The sun rises higher as they dance, its light catching in the crystals dripping from the ballroom. They cast multicolored patterns on them, painting their skin and clothing in all the shades of the rainbow. But Dimitri is glowing brighter than all the crystals in the ballroom; his joy is pouring out of him as he spins Byleth away from him before tugging her close. She tilts her chin up, desperate to keep him in view as he spins her again, because he is gorgeous, ethereal, radiant. And he is also a very, very good dancer.
She already knew that, of course. She has seen him dance more than once, but never like this. Never simply for the fun of it, and never with her. She suddenly wants to plan a ball for every moon, just so she can give Dimitri an excuse to dance with her more often.
All too soon, their impromptu waltz runs its course, and Dimitri slows their swirling steps until they gradually halt. Dimitri bows to her formally and Byleth copies his gesture, even if she is not sure if the female partner is supposed to bow or curtsy. That sort of thing never seemed important before. Dimitri doesn't correct her, so he holds her position until Dimitri straightens and tugs her against his chest.
"You did incredible, beloved," Dimitri says. "I cannot wait to have you on my arm in front of the entire Kingdom."
Unfiltered exuberance bubbles out of her, and she finds herself at a loss for words once again. She throws her arms around Dimitri's neck and tugs him closer, speaking with actions as is her preference. Something about the dance, and the gorgeous atmosphere, and how ridiculously happy Dimitri looks mixes together into a giddy cocktail that makes her feel drunk on joy. She surges up on her toes and kisses him, knocking him back against the wall with her unexpected affection, their teeth clacking as he smiles against her mouth.
He kisses her back, so sweet and intense just like he always is, his hands cupping her face as she presses herself as close to him as possible. She isn't sure if there is anyone left in the ballroom or not right now, and she really doesn't care. The whole world could be watching, and she would let them as long as Dimitri doesn't stop kissing her.