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Optimism was in the air.
For the longest time, the Kingdom army had been half-starved, filling their bellies on watered-down gruel and hopes for a better future. Now, with the influx of supplies from Leicester, the army was now ready to take on the last stronghold that stood between them and Enbarr.
Amidst such hope and expectation, Dimitri couldn’t help but feel somewhat ill at ease. Some in the army turned to look at him as if he were a beacon to light the way ahead. But Dimitri knew that if there was anybody in the camp that deserved the true credit for turning around the bleakest of outcomes it was none other than the current interim Archbishop.
Keyword here being ‘interim’.
The expectation was that once Lady Rhea was rescued from the Empire, she would take back the mantle as head of the Church of Seiros. However, that wasn't stopping the suitors. Ever since the Leicester Alliance had joined the army— joined the Kingdom—nobles and merchants alike were swarming day in and out around Garreg Mach Monastery, offering extra supplies and gifts for the professor. Some of them even had the gall to offer her paintings and statues of her dressed up like Seiros, the Warrior Saint and the Goddess’s Envoy.
Dimitri had been furious when he had heard.
Some assumed that he must have been offended at the blasphemy. Or perhaps at Leicester's decadence during times of war.
But the truth was much more simple than that.
He was jealous.
It must have been some form of punishment, imposed to him by either the Goddess or the ghosts that clung to him. Punishment for being a selfish monster. Everyday, his own voice joined the chorus of hateful ghosts taunting and reminding him of every blunder he had ever made.
When she had literally come back from the dead, and he saw her just as radiant as she had been burned into his memory… His gratitude was so overwhelming, he had no words to say. In fact, it was outright frightening. The one specter that had never haunted him, returning for him… He had thought that he had finally died, and instead of being dragged down to the eternal flames, he was unjustly being offered the eternal peace that few had a right to.
He felt as if he had cheated fate. And he knew, that he didn’t deserve what she offered him. He didn’t deserve to stand by her side.
But, instead of allowing his words to show his despair at being offered undeserved salvation, they twisted and festered in his tongue.
When he had learned the truth, that she wasn’t dead, that he wasn’t dead, and they were both still doomed to continue the torment of living…
“That can only mean you are another imperial spy.”
But no. He was wrong. As always, always… he was dead wrong. She hadn’t betrayed him nor the Blue Lions. In fact, she had quite literally returned from the dead for them.
For him.
And what did he give her in return?
Silence, and glares.
Perhaps the most terrible thing of it all… was that now he knew the truth buried deep in his heart.
Indelible and inescapable.
Dimitri didn’t know just how real the Goddess above was. Sometimes, it felt as if all the prayers cast out to her were lost in the wind, unheard and unheeded. He didn’t know why he managed to live for so long despite barely doing the minimum to keep his body moving forward in its fruitless rampage towards the Empire to quiet the ghosts. He didn’t even know why the professor— why Byleth had decided to stay by his side, even when he didn’t deserve neither the patience nor the pity that would drive someone to put up with him.
But the one thing he knew, was that the reason why he was jealous of all the suitors mooning over her was simply because he wanted her for himself.
Dimitri couldn’t help but feel sick with disgust at himself. Because somehow, a part of him must have thought that he genuinely had enough of a chance with her to even allow his feelings to flourish within him…
But seeing the suitors approach her with ulterior motives truly made him want to retch.
“Your Holiness,” bowed another man in front of Byleth, “I have heard that you are quite partial to Leicester Cortania. Is this correct?”
“It tastes nice,” she nodded.
“But of course! Only the most refined tea of all of Fódlan will do for her Holiness!” the man said with an insincere grin. “Say, I have managed to procure some Leicester Cortania. Would it be too forward for me to inquire if her Holiness would be interested in—?”
“Yes, it would be too forward of you,” Dimitri cut in, standing between the man and Byleth.
“Dimitri?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “Is something wrong?”
Everything. Absolutely everything was wrong.
“Professor, I must apologize, but we must make plans to capture Fort Merceus. Our scouts have obtained some compelling information that I think might be of tactical use.”
“Alright. Let’s go,” she turned to the suitor and nodded at him before turning back to Dimitri.
...
...
“Professor, you must be more careful,” Dimitri said once they seemed to be alone. “You cannot allow these suitors to take advantage of you. They are not above doing all sorts of nefarious deeds. How can we even know if they’re trustworthy? What if one of them is an imperial spy and is just trying to trap you?”
“Dimitri—“
“You shouldn’t accept to meet with them in private, nor take any food nor drink from them. What if they tried to poison you? Or worse—?”
“Dimitri!” Byleth raised her voice, much like she’d do when she’d need him to switch positions on the battlefield.
Her tone was enough to shut him up.
“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” she said, continuing along the path to the War Council room. “I’m sure that no matter what they try to do, I’ll find a way out of it. That’s what I’ve always done.”
“I disagree, professor,” he balked. “As the leader of the church—”
“Interim leader.”
“As the interim leader of the church, you owe a responsibility to the followers of Seiros. They expect you to lead them well. And to do that, you must consider the importance of your own life.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll be more careful, Gilbert.” She mocked with one of her utterly disarming little grins. “But don’t worry. I know how to take care of myself. I’m not made of glass!”
“I… I must apologize. It wasn’t my intention to give you the impression that I didn’t trust in your abilities. It’s… it’s them I don’t trust. Not you.”
“Do you distrust them because they’re from the Leicester Alliance?”
“No, it’s not that…” Dimitri shook his head. “I don’t trust them because…”
Because I love you, and I can’t bear to see them near you.
“…Because we’re so close to the end,” he lied, hoping that she wouldn’t notice his burning face.
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“It’s…” he couldn’t bear to look into her eyes. She would know the truth if he did. So he turned to look down at his boots, filled with shame and anger towards his own incompetence. “If we win Fort Merceus, we will be close to the end of this war. And with it, will come the obligations and the expectations of peacetime.”
“The expectations of peacetime?”
“Keeping the peace. But people are much more likely to be in conflict than not. Even if there is not war, there are other subtler ways that the strong try to trample the weak. And as leaders, it is our duty to ensure that that doesn’t happen, and that conflict remains within the expectations of peacetime. Even at a personal cost.”
Especially at a personal cost.
Having normal, true friendships was utterly rare for royalty. Dimitri knew that all too well. Day in and day out of his regency, he had faced the weight of his position without the power to make any true decisions until he’d be old enough for it. His only solace had been Dedue, who had remained his steady companion for years… but one day, he stopped calling him by his name and only referred to him by the same honorific all the others did.
“Leaders can’t have normal relationships, professor,” he said, finally raising his gaze to meet hers. “Everything they do is observed and judged, all of the time. Everybody wants something from them, always. That is why… you must be careful from the nobles that want to use you.”
“But I’m not a noble,” Byleth said, keeping her inquisitive eyes on him. “And I’ll stop being relevant after the war is over. I’m just Rhea’s proxy for now.”
“Professor… Do you have any plans after the war?”
His question, for some reason, made her turn away from him… and look out the window.
He followed her gaze, and saw a small group of war orphans being taught how to make rabbit snare traps.
“…Perhaps I’ll settle down somewhere,” she said. “I could go back to teaching. But… I hope that what I know doesn’t become necessary for children to know.”
For that moment, Dimitri could only gaze at her with utter fascination. Her solemn look, the way the sunlight caught in her hair…
He knew that he would never forget that precious moment, no matter what.
...
...
The Stubborn Old General was not impossible to capture. But, it was very hard to claim Fort Merceus. They had started the assault by early morning, assigning waves to a commander to lead a battalion in turns, then retiring from the battlefield to allow them to recover whilst another took up their place, all to keep a nonstop assault on the fort. Dimitri had lead the vanguard alongside Byleth, and then was allowed to rest his men until the afternoon. It was a good thing they were planning this assault during the summer, as they had more daylight to wear down their enemy. Had they battled in the winter, they wouldn’t have had a chance to organize as many waves.
The Stubborn Old General’s main defense was breached shortly before Dimitri’s second wave. Byleth had stayed on the battlefield’s rear, managing the tactical decisions, but staying out of harm’s way.
“Professor, you haven’t rested?” Dimitri asked, when he saw her cast a heal on Sylvain as he fell back.
“I’m fine,” she picked up the Sword of the Creator. “We’re in. Now we only need to seize the fort. You take Felix and his swordmasters down the right, and give them no quarter while I position Ashe and the archers to block off their exits. Then, we can press into the commander’s seat—”
“Absolutely not!” Dimitri shook his head, knowing that Byleth’s plan would have her running all around the battlefield after a full day of grueling battle. “Go back and rest, you’ve been out here all day! Felix can lead the swordmaster and the lancers down the right, and I can help Ashe and the archers.”
“I’m fine, Dimitri! We can’t bicker about this, we must take advantage of the opening before we patch it up and we lose all of our progress so far!”
Dimitri knew she wouldn’t back down. Because if there was any general stubborn enough to outlast the Stubborn Old General, it was none other than Byleth Eisner.
That was one of the things that he loved— and despised — about her. She was far too selfless. Even to the point of risking her life, just for the greater good. She was… It reminded him of himself, and not in a flattering way.
“Alright, but please do not be reckless out there… I have not come this far just to lose you here.”
“Dimitri—” Byleth stared at him with wide eyes.
And then, he realized what he had said.
“Let’s go, Professor!” He urged her along, in hopes that she wouldn’t notice his indirect and roundabout confession. “We must move to gain control of the keep!”
Byleth nodded.
Dimitri had been quite sure that he had seen the ghost of a smile upon her lips.
They breached the fort together, and soon enough they both found themselves locked in that deadly dance they had memorized the steps to a long time ago. Dimitri attacked and destroyed all who stood in his way, which allowed Byleth to slip in between the enemies to take control of the ballistas.
“Kill them all,” a voice, distorted by a metallic helm boomed across the battlefield. “All except… that woman.”
On instinct, Dimitri’s eyes turned to the source.
There. Atop his horse, was none other than the Death Knight.
But the Death Knight wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were trained on Byleth and the Sword of the Creator on her hand.
“Byleth!” Dimitri yelled, and he leapt to block the Death Knight’s scythe.
“You dare stand between me and my pleasure?” The Death Knight growled, raising his scythe to strike once more.
“Yes. I dare to stand against you, Death Knight,” Dimitri put away his silver lance, and then pulled out Areadbhar to be rid of this fiend that had dared to derive some sick pleasure out of his battles against his Byleth, for once and for all. “I will not allow you, nor anyone else use Byleth for your amusement!”
It was over when he felt his blood sing. With his crest flaring up to life, Dimitri struck the Death Knight’s horse.
Both the beast and its rider fell.
He noticed Mercedes running past him, doubtlessly driven to check up on her brother.
Dimitri dared not to interfere. So he stood back and only kept an eye out for Mercedes.
“Dimitri?” Byleth walked up to his right.
“Professor, are you—?”
“What did you mean by that?”
“What did I mean by… what?” He blinked, feeling his head ache with the post-battle fatigue.
“Do you think I’m yours?”
If Dimitri could beg the Goddess for just one thing and have it come true, he would ask for her to let him turn back time and stop himself from getting carried away. Not because he cared for the Death Knight, but because he had completely forgotten to censor and filter his true thoughts.
Good heavens. He had even called her by her name.
This was a disaster.
“Dimitri,” Byleth stared right into his soul. “Have you been so strangely protective over me because you thought of me as yours?”
“Th-that’s… I’m so sorry Professor. I understand if you’d despise me for—”
“It’s alright.”
Dimitri blinked stupidly.
“I’m… I’m okay with it, is what I mean,” Byleth said. “I don’t despise you. In fact… it’s kind of nice to rely on you. The Death Knight almost got me there…”
Dimitri was about to ask her if he’d be allowed to call her by her name, but the boisterous cheer of the Kingdom army claiming Fort Merceus cut him off.