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Chapter Text

Dimitri rubbed sleep from his eye as he awoke to sunlight shining in his face. A sense of disquiet crept over him as he didn’t immediately recognize the room he was in. While it was scrupulously clean and inviting, vaguely smelling of citrus, it was significantly smaller than the royal quarters in Fhirdiad. It was sparsely furnished, with just the bed, a table with two plush chairs over by the window, a wardrobe, and the bedside table. All of the decor was white accented with a deep blue that, while familiar, was not Faerghus blue, the specific shade exclusively used by the royal family. Nor did the rug, curtains or tapestries bear any traditional Kingdom patterns or emblems. This room was clearly not within his castle, but it didn’t set off any internal alarms either.

After a moment’s consideration, he realized he was in a guestroom at Garreg Mach. He and Byleth had wintered at the monastery for the last several years, usually arriving during the Red Wolf Moon and then returning to Fhirdiad at the start of the Great Tree Moon. But he knew it was currently late in the Harpstring Moon, so why was he still here? The true source of his unease was a nagging instinct that he knew the answer, but he couldn’t retrieve it from his memory.

The door to his left slowly opened and Byleth entered, as radiant and beautiful as she ever was, and all of his worries promptly vanished. He smiled at her. “Good morning, beloved.”

Her mouth curled into a mesmerizing smile, her eyes lighting up. “Good morning, my love.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek as she set the tray in her hands in front of him. “Did you sleep well?”

“I believe so.” Dimitri couldn’t recall otherwise. He could scarcely remember any specifics about last night. They’d had dinner together like usual, and their eldest daughter was there too, and they’d talked about the upcoming St. Macuil Day service. Maybe. It was strangely fuzzy when he knew it shouldn’t be.

The tray had a simple breakfast of toast with butter and jam, a boiled egg that was already peeled, and a cup of black tea. He picked at it mechanically while Byleth sat beside him on the edge of the bed, scrutinizing him carefully. She waited until he’d consumed the food and a few sips of tea before speaking. “You look like something’s bothering you.”

He felt like he was back in her classroom and she’d sprung a pop quiz on him about a subject he hadn’t studied. His face felt hot. “Forgive me...I’m a bit confused about why we’re still at the monastery. Should we not have left for Fhirdiad by now?”

Her eyes turned a little sad. “We agreed to live here from now on, remember?”

Dimitri buried his face in his hand with a groan. “Right, right. Of course.” Now it was clear to him. They’d come to that decision after a lengthy debate. He’d resisted abandoning his ancestral home, but he’d eventually come to understand her point about how taxing the long journey was on both of them and how there was a larger concentration of healers and medics at the monastery, not to mention the milder climate. He gave her a sheepish look. “I don’t know how I forgot that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” She kissed him again, on the lips this time. It was tender and sweet just as always, made even more comforting by its familiarity. “Do you feel like getting up today?”

He nodded. “Yes, very much. It looks to be a beautiful day.” He scratched his chin; his beard felt horribly scraggly and overgrown.

“Would you like a trim?” she asked.

“Please,” he said. “I must look like a wild beast.”

She chuckled as the scruffiness was charming in its own way. It reminded her of Jeralt when he got lax on maintaining his beard. She opened the wardrobe and dug through a compartment in the back to bring out the locked box with his shaving kit. Though he’d tried, Dimitri had never been able to overcome his unease with having blades near his face; only herself and Dedue had ever been allowed the right, and that was only many years after the war. It’d gotten too difficult for him to tidy his beard on his own in the last few years, so sometimes it got a bit unkempt, as her permission was wholly contingent on his mood.

Byleth unlocked the box, took out the scissors, and delicately culled his facial hair, trimming it as close and as tidily as she could manage. His skin was more fragile these days, making the process tricky, and it was why she never offered to shave him anymore. Any nicks or cuts would put an immediate end to the attempt as well. Dimitri kept his eye shut and his fists clenched in his lap as she worked, his breaths slow and measured.

“All done,” she said, mercifully quick as usual. She put the kit away and pulled out a set of his clothes from the wardrobe.

“Thank you.” Dimitri sighed in relief as he briefly rubbed his face, satisfied. Then he stretched his arms and, in a series of careful movements, swung his legs over the edge of the bed to plant his feet on the floor. His hands fumbled with the laces of his nightshirt.

“Here.” Byleth loosened the lacing with ease and helped him pull it over his head.

“Thank you,” he said again. “I am sorry you must fuss over me so.”

“You know I don’t mind helping you.”

“Yes, I know. I merely meant…” He trailed off with a sigh. It was a constant frustration that his body neither worked nor moved the way it used to. It was one thing when he had to hang up his lance or even when stairs became a challenge, but it was another thing entirely when he struggled to do the simplest tasks for himself.

Byleth cupped his cheek and traced her thumb across it. “You would help me if I needed it, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would.”

“Then stop feeling guilty,” she replied. She kissed his forehead. “You’re not a burden, Dimitri. You’re my husband and I love you. I want to take care of you.”

When she started to straighten, Dimitri grabbed her and pulled her back in to kiss her on the mouth. “My beloved,” he murmured. “I truly would be lost without you.”

She smiled, and after a few more quick kisses, continued assisting him with getting ready for the day. She helped him dress, combed and styled his hair, and then fetched him his cane from its place in the wardrobe. It was lacquered oak over a solid steel core, more sturdy and functional than it was fancy, but the Crest of Blaiddyd was painted on it in blue and the steel handle was shaped like a lion’s head to make it distinctly his.

She watched as he shifted his weight to stand, leaning hard on his cane. “Do you need help?” she asked, a barely perceptible worry in her tone.

“I’ll be fine.” Dimitri grimaced as he made the first movement, but he got to his feet and straightened his back with little difficulty this time. He shuffled in place and rolled his shoulders, then offered his arm to her with a smile. “Shall we?”

Byleth smiled back and took his arm. “With pleasure.”

A middle-aged cleric was waiting on the other side of the door. She was a bit stocky, with broad shoulders and a round face to go with her friendly disposition. She smiled warmly and bowed to both of them. “Good morning, Your Majesties.”

Dimitri blinked, trying to place the woman as he thought she was familiar, but it was hard to be sure when all the clerics at Garreg Mach wore the same uniform.

“Good morning, Marie,” Byleth replied.

He tried not to let his chagrin show on his face. Yes, he did know this particular cleric; she’d been his personal medic since their arrival this winter, and she kept his room in order and assisted Byleth with tending to him when needed. “Yes, good morning, Marie.”

“I’ll just pop in and straighten up now,” Marie said. “Have a lovely day.”

It was a short walk from Dimitri’s room to the elevator, a new contraption installed last summer. It was a fascinating bit of machinery, using a simple rope and pulley system to move the platform up and down the shaft. It was not the smoothest ride, since it had to be operated by hand by some monks, but it was certainly preferable to taking the stairs to and from the third floor of the monastery. Within moments they were on the ground level and stepping out into the morning sunshine, just as the bells chimed to signal that classes at the Officers Academy were now in session.

Birds sang, the air was comfortably warm. It was perfect weather for a leisurely stroll across the familiar grounds. Acolytes smiled and bowed respectfully as they passed, always happy to see the king and the former archbishop out and about. Even at their advanced ages, they were a strikingly attractive couple, naturally drawing admirers even without consideration of their status. Their faces carried only minimal wrinkles around their mouths and eyes and neither of them had gone completely gray. Dimitri’s hair had faded into a platinum blonde that looked white in the sun, and Byleth’s hair had paled to a silvery color with a pronounced green hue that he likened to stardust. She personally thought it looked more like the root end of a celery stalk, but appreciated her husband’s more poetic comparison.

Byleth had retired ten years ago, mostly because she was exhausted with politics and politicians, but also so she could better support Dimitri and their children as they solidified the lines of succession for their positions. Their daughter Nadia, their eldest child, had desired to take over as head of the church rather than head of state, which caused an uproar among the nobility, not because of any perceived incompetence from their second child, their elder son Étienne, but because Nadia had the Crest of Blaiddyd, whereas Étienne had inherited his grandfather’s Crest of Seiros. Some of the houses of the old Kingdom and the former Alliance protested handing the crown to someone with the Crest most associated with the old Adrestian Empire, even if he was still a Blaiddyd. A few of them expressed preference for their younger, Crestless son Tristan to be king if Nadia refused the crown, but Tristan too wished to work within the church, nor was he willing to displace his brother. And their youngest child, their daughter Isabeau, while active in politics, bore the Crest of Flames, and she was acutely aware of its significance and feared being elevated as some kind of goddess-queen should she take the throne.

Both Dimitri and Byleth had found the supposed controversy infuriating, but they suspected the root of the problem was the concept of changing leadership itself. They’d been in their respective positions as king and archbishop for nearly sixty years, and there was a lot of unspoken fear that the end of their reigns would mean the end of peace and stability in Fódlan. The unification war still echoed from the past even as the people who lived through it died off. The continent had healed and was flourishing, but it still felt fragile, like a nestling that had only just learned to fly, and it required the correct parents to nurture it to maturity.

Still, with their typical perseverance, they’d managed to reassure all the doubters and settle everything. Nadia took over as Archbishop as she wanted, and Étienne had been king in function if not in title for the last six years. He’d vehemently opposed being coronated when the subject was broached, too respectful of his father to allow himself to officially be the king as long as Dimitri was alive. He’d also admitted privately to Byleth that he was apprehensive about how the public might view him if it seemed like he was usurping the throne of the Savior King, and she was inclined to agree. Dimitri, of course, remained selectively oblivious to how beloved he was by the general populace and had reassured Étienne that it would not wound his pride, but had eventually deferred to their son’s wishes. He remained the king in title and to the public, while Étienne governed from the shadows.

Some traditionalists had bristled at the arrangement, but they eventually came around out of respect for Dimitri, and because it allowed Étienne to better transition into the job without all of the eyes of the Kingdom scrutinizing his every action. A few less scrupulous nobles did attempt to undermine his authority in the beginning, but Dimitri put a quick stop to it as soon as he caught on to their games.

Despite his unofficial retirement, Dimitri had still made himself available for council and of course readily offered aid and advice to Étienne when he requested it, and sometimes when he didn’t. It was only in the last year or so that Dimitri had truly withdrawn from politics, essentially forced out of it as his hands had become too arthritic to write, his vision was getting worse, and he struggled with keeping his thoughts and memories straight when he was tired or stressed. While it saddened Byleth, since she knew how deeply it pained him to leave the role that was such a huge part of his identity, she was more relieved. He’d worked so hard for so many years; he’d earned the right to live the rest of his life free from the burden of kingly duties.

There was a table with two plush chairs arranged for them near the pond and greenhouse, placed in an unobtrusive spot where there was some shade and where they more or less disappeared into the background so as not to draw attention. Neither of them wanted to intrude on the lives of the students, knights and monastery staff as they went about their business, nor did they want to be fussed or fawned over constantly.

A chess board was set up on the table, and upon seeing it, Dimitri moved one of the pawns before ushering Byleth to her seat. “Feeling bold today?” she asked.

“I have no expectations that I’ll defeat you,” he replied as he sat across from her. “But it’s hard to resist the challenge.”

She smiled. Dimitri was actually a better strategist than he gave himself credit for; true, she’d won nine out of every ten matches they’d played over the years, but he was capable of surprising her. He also had a winning record against all of their children except Isabeau, who was good enough at the game to keep Byleth properly humble.

Now that he’d been awake awhile, she could see his mind sharpen while he plotted his moves and adjusted his strategy based on her moves. She won the first round handily, but rounds two and three required more careful thought on her part, and round four had her nervous at points. In their fifth and final round, she inwardly cursed when she realized too late that she’d left an opening and wondered if he’d notice.

He surveyed the board, rubbing his chin, and then carefully moved his queen. “I believe that’s checkmate, beloved.”

Byleth sighed, fond but annoyed with herself. “So it is.”

“You clearly let me win that one,” he said with a faint frown. “You left yourself wide open.”

She shook her head. “No, that wasn’t deliberate; I got careless. Maybe I’m losing a step.”

“You?” Dimitri blinked. “Perish the thought. Your mind is as keen as ever.” He leaned back in his seat. “Thank you for humoring me again. Inept as I am, I enjoy our matches.”

“As do I,” she said. “And despite what you think, you are still a worthy opponent.” She smiled impishly. “But I’m glad you don’t tire of losing.”

He laughed. “Only when it’s you, beloved. If you were Sylvain, I would’ve tossed the board after the second round.”

The kitchen staff brought a light lunch, and they were just finishing their food when the Archbishop herself strolled towards them. Work often prevented her from spending much time with her parents, but she made a point to at least check in with them daily. She waved as she approached, her smile bright. Nadia was their child who looked the most like Dimitri; she had his blonde hair and blue eyes and a similar facial structure, with sharp lines defining her nose and chin. She was also the tallest of their children, standing a whole half head above both of her brothers, but when she matured, her body took on the same soft, buxom curves as her mother. She wore her hair in short, loose waves like her mother too, the one small bit of informality she let show in her otherwise flawlessly proper appearance.

Her husband, Fabian, was from House Gerth, and they’d met when they’d attended the reopened Officers Academy together. He came and went from the monastery often, being Nadia’s most trusted envoy and assistant in church matters. Their three children, two daughters and a son, had largely been raised at Garreg Mach and considered it home, though now they were all grown and scattered across Fódlan raising families of their own.

“Mother, Father.” Nadia leaned down to kiss each of them on the cheek. “Glad to see you outside on such a lovely day.”

“Hello, dearheart,” Dimitri greeted, kissing her back. “Have you been busy today?”

“Yes, there are a lot of visitors for the St. Macuil Day service tomorrow. I’ve been greeting them and holding council all morning.” She smiled. “But right now I’m on my way to the training grounds to inspect some of the new knight recruits, and I wondered if you’d like to join me?”

Dimitri’s eye lit up with obvious interest. “I fear we would be a needless distraction.”

“My presence alone will make them nervous,” Nadia said. “Better they work through those feelings early and learn to stay focused under pressure, don’t you think?”

Byleth was already on her feet. “We’ll be discrete.”

He smiled. “Very well. Then I will gladly escort you both.”

“I have some exciting news as well,” Nadia said as they ambled towards the training grounds. “I got a letter from my grandson, Philippe. You remember; he’s the one who just got married last year, to that nice girl from House Gloucester?”

“Yes.” Dimitri nodded. “Pity we did not attend the wedding.”

“They wanted to keep it small,” Nadia said. “I think I was only invited because they wanted me to perform the ceremony.” She chuckled. “Regardless, he wrote in his letter that he and his wife are expecting a child this summer!”

“That’s wonderful,” Byleth said with a smile.

Dimitri looked awestruck. “Then we are to be great-great grandparents?”

“Indeed!” Nadia exclaimed. “I’ve been eager to tell you since I read the letter this morning. I imagine this will be the first of many more to come of the next generation!”

Dimitri stared ahead vacantly. It was astonishing to consider the size of their family. Byleth had gifted him four children, from whom he’d been blessed with eleven grandchildren and currently fourteen great-grandchildren, and still their family kept growing! It was so much more than he’d ever imagined was possible as a boy.

Lost in his ruminations, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking and his cane caught against a loose cobblestone. He was face first on the ground before he even knew what happened, the wind knocked out of him and his body reeling all over in pain.

“Father!” Nadia knelt beside him, her hands already glowing with holy light. “Are you OK?”

Dimitri grunted, angry at himself for being so careless. Even as he felt her healing magic wash over him, he struggled to catch his breath. She gently rolled him onto his side and he gasped at a sharp stabbing in his chest, his hands shaking as he grabbed the spot. Goddess, had he broken a rib from a simple fall? He tried to speak and his voice came out as a warbled cry.

Byleth pursed her lips and concentrated. A single Divine Pulse now drained her as badly as using multiple in a short span once did, so she avoided using them unless absolutely necessary. The sight of Dimitri on the ground and still laboring after a heal spell told her this was one of those times. She rolled back time just a few moments, erasing his fall and giving her an opportunity to warn him. When time resumed, she was suddenly dizzy and she found herself wobbling, causing her to grab his arm.

“Beloved?” Dimitri asked. “Are you all right?”

“...Yes,” she said, her voice a bit shaky. “Watch your step. The ground is uneven here.”

“Ah.” He glanced down, spotting the offending cobblestone, and stepped over it. “Thank you. That might have ended poorly.”

Byleth smiled to herself, but she had to keep leaning on him the rest of the way to the training grounds as she still felt lightheaded. Thankfully there was a bench under the overhang near the entrance, and Dimitri immediately moved towards it. They both sighed in relief as they sat. Nadia nodded at them and then stepped closer to the group of recruits.

The captain ordered all the recruits to attention, and they immediately lined up and bowed simultaneously. “Good afternoon, Your Grace,” they all said.

Nadia smiled. “Continue as you were. We are only here to observe.”

The captain glanced towards the bench. “Aha, I see we have some extra special guests today.” He bowed and all of the recruits immediately copied him. “Good afternoon, Your Majesties. It is an honor.”

Several of the recruits went wide eyed and murmured excitedly among themselves. Despite maintaining a low profile, it was widely known that Dimitri and Byleth were currently living at Garreg Mach. To the students at the Academy, members of the staff and clergy, and the Knights of Seiros, it was never not a big deal to actually see the king and queen consort in person; aside from still being the public leaders of Fódlan, their reputations followed them everywhere. Every knight, whether under the umbrella of the state or the church, had heard tales of Dimitri and Byleth’s heroism during the unification war, some of which were more embellished than others.

“Please, pay us no mind,” Dimitri said with a smile and a wave. “Pretend we aren’t here.”

He folded his hands over the top of his cane and watched as the captain led the recruits through a series of drills. Tension was visible in their body language and the captain barked at them to loosen up and concentrate. Some of the recruits kept glancing in their direction or at Nadia, earning more reprimand from the captain.

Dimitri chuckled under his breath. “This takes me back.”

“To the Academy?” Byleth asked.

“Yes. All those hours spent practicing here, the excitement and the nerves with trying to demonstrate my techniques. Your endless patience in instructing the Blue Lions.” He smiled. “Especially their house leader. He must’ve been particularly challenging.”

“Don’t be so hard on him,” she said, also smiling. “He was my prized pupil.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling the same warm nostalgia. It’d been tough when she’d finally had to hang up her sword; it’d been an extension of herself since childhood, and she’d resisted it just as fiercely as Dimitri had resisted surrendering his lance. The one solace was the knowledge that they’d worked to make a world without war, and there were others who could fight in their stead to help preserve the peace. The Sword of the Creator had been returned to the Holy Tomb and Areadbhar hung behind the throne back in Fhirdiad, acting as a symbol rather than being used as a weapon.

Her thoughts wandered to faces from the past. Alois had served as her knight captain for twenty years after the war, until he’d graciously retired. Hanneman and Manuela had helped her restart the Officers Academy and had continued to teach for many years until they too retired. Shamir had disappeared after the war and Byleth had never heard from her again, though she caught hints in a few of Catherine’s letters that the two of them were still in contact. Catherine herself had gone into seclusion with Rhea, forever dedicated to protecting her. Cyril had stayed at the monastery as Byleth’s assistant and part time archery instructor, but he’d retired with her permission when she’d disclosed her own plans of retirement to him. She presumed he’d gone to find Rhea, but she didn’t know for certain.

All of them, save for Cyril, were deceased now, or presumed deceased in the case of Shamir. Byleth missed them all, missed their insights, their lively chatter and banter, their very presences.

She missed Seteth and Flayn the most these days. Byleth knew they were still alive out there somewhere; they kept in contact with occasional letters, but they’d left Garreg Mach over twenty years ago, needing to avoid scrutiny about their ageless appearances. Theirs and Rhea’s true nature was a closely guarded secret among Byleth’s family. Someday, perhaps, there might be a world where a Nabatean could exist in public, but that day would not come in her lifetime.

Byleth’s eyelids drooped. Between the warm air, the use of the Divine Pulse, the familiar sound of weapons clashing, and Dimitri’s presence, she found herself teetering on the line between sleep and wakefulness. He rested his head against hers and soon he too was breathing more deeply, his elbows sagging despite his arms remaining outstretched.

When the group exercises were done, the captain ordered the recruits to split off into pairs to spar. Nadia continued to observe them for a time, exchanging a few observations with the captain about everyone’s progress, and then she turned back to her parents. She chuckled to herself when she saw them slouched against each other. It was a familiar sight, as she’d born witness to such things for her entire life, but it seemed even more endearing now that he parents were elderly. They remained ardently devoted to each other no matter how many years passed, the foundation upon which their whole extended family stood.

“Father? Mother?” she asked. “Are you awake?”

Dimitri jolted, spurring Byleth to open her eyes and rub them. “Ah, forgive me, dearheart,” he said. “I must’ve drifted off.”

Nadia smiled. “It’s all right. I hope you at least were satisfied with what you saw of the recruits.”

“They have potential,” Byleth said. “They will make fine knights, assuming they put in the work.”

Dimitri gestured towards one pair. “That one there, is she from Ifan?”

“Yes, she is.” Nadia tipped her head. “How did you guess?”

“Her lance technique looks to be of their typical style,” he said. “It’s good to see it is still being taught.”

“Impressive as ever, Father,” Nadia said. Despite her occasional worries about his mental acuity, the way he readily threw out observations like that proved his mind was still sharp. “It seems everyone is finishing up.”

“Ah, that’s good,” Dimitri said. “This bench is a bit rough on my back.”

“Mine too,” Byleth agreed. Her stomach growled loudly. “It must be close to dinnertime.”

“Is your stomach ever not eager for a meal, beloved?” he teased.

She gave him a playful nudge. “Will you join us, Nadia?”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” Nadia said. “I have to write my sermon for tomorrow. I’ve been so busy this week I haven’t had a chance to so much as draft it.”

“Why not designate one of your aides to draft it?” Dimitri asked.

Nadia burst out laughing. “Father, I can’t believe you of all people would ask me that!”

His brow furrowed. “It’s a valid point, is it not?”

Byleth chuckled. “You must see the irony. Was there ever a time you designated someone else to write an important document for you?”

Dimitri blushed. “I, er...I simply meant that I would hope Nadia would not follow my admittedly poor example. You shouldn’t overwork yourself, dearheart.”

“I will take that under advisement,” Nadia said with a slight smirk. “Do you need any help getting up?”

He rolled his shoulders, letting out a puff of air as he stiffened his arms and leaned hard on his cane. He hated how he had to actively think and plan when performing simple movements like standing. Though it’d been this way for several years now, he’d never gotten used to it, nor stopped resenting how much he had to fight with his own body to get it to work how he wanted. His knees trembled as he began to rise and he grunted in discomfort, but he managed to straighten himself.

Byleth felt her own back creak as she stood. Sitting on that bench for so long had definitely not been wise. She stretched her arms with an annoyed sigh at how stiff she was.

Nadia touched a hand to each of their shoulders, a glimmer of white light passing from her palms. She smiled as she saw the tension in their faces relax. “Thank you for coming. I think the recruits got a thrill out of it.”

“No need for the flattery,” Dimitri said with a smile. “I’m sure to them we just look like a rickety old couple whose time has long passed.”

“Nonsense,” Nadia said. “I expect my knights to respect their elders, especially when they’re my parents.” She gave them each a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good night. I’ll see you at the service tomorrow, if not before.”

“Yes,” Byleth said. “Don’t stay up late writing your sermon. Use one of my old ones if you want. I recycled mine all the time and no one noticed.”

“Mother!” Nadia feigned shock. “If I were to do that, I’d have to employ some heavy editing. Your sermons were very…you. Someone would definitely notice.”

Dimitri chuckled. “I look forward to hearing your sermon, whatever the truth of its origins. If anyone asks, I’ll pretend I never heard this exchange.”

The dining hall was quiet, as it was still rather early. One of the staff waved to them as they entered and followed them to their selected table in one of the back corners. “Hello, Your Majesties!” the woman greeted. “We have a special available tonight along with our usual fare. It’s a hearty stew of Albinean moose meat with cabbage and turnips seasoned with spices from Duscur.”

Byleth’s mouth was already watering. “I’ll have a bowl of that, the pickled rabbit skewers, a side of vegetable pasta salad, and a plate of sweet buns. Please.”

Dimitri stifled his laughter, still charmed by her voracious appetite. “The usual for me, please.”

The woman nodded and scurried away. ‘The usual’ was just a bowl of onion gratin soup, so termed because that was what Dimitri requested for dinner a minimum of four nights a week. Byleth frowned slightly but said nothing. Even after regaining his sense of taste about a decade after the war, his appetite had remained capricious, and it’d gotten even worse in recent years, to the point where the list of things he’d reliably eat at all was incredibly short. She’d given up admonishing the lack of variance in his diet, as it was more important that he actually eat in the first place.

That still didn’t stop her from employing various strategies to encourage him to eat more. The stew was delicious and hearty, and while it didn’t capture the taste of Dedue’s cooking, it did invoke the spirit of it. She waved a spoonful of it in front of Dimitri. “You should try this. You can taste the Duscur influence.”

He considered the spoon for a second before taking it. “Hm. It is rather good. I wonder how Dedue would critique it?”

Byleth nudged the bowl towards him, silently victorious when he took a second spoonful. “We can ask for another bowl if you want.”

He placed her spoon back in the strew. “No, just a taste is enough for me. But thank you for sharing it, beloved.”

She suppressed any indications of her disappointment; the moose meat would’ve been particularly nutritious for him, but there was no use trying to force the matter. He did at least finish the entirety of his soup and helped himself to one of the sweet buns. She always requested the latter for dessert because it was rare that he wouldn’t partake of one.

By the time they finished their dinner, the dining hall was starting to get noisy as students and knights came to eat, so they headed back towards their spot by the pond and greenhouse. They sat there and relaxed while their food digested. Byleth had taken up knitting to keep her hands busy after she’d had to give up her sword. She still wasn’t very good at it, limiting herself to simple items and patterns, but the scarf she was currently making at least didn’t have any dropped stitches. Dimitri had a book on the history and culture of Morfis that Étienne had given to him. He used a magnifying glass to ease the strain on his eye when he read at length, but even with that aid, it took him much longer to get through books than it used to. He found he had to re-read paragraphs or even full pages multiple times before he felt like he’d absorbed and processed the words.

As such, both his eye and his mind soon grew weary, and he set the book and the lens on the table and yawned. The air had become chilly with the sun dipping low in the sky and he shivered. That was another recent development; it surprised him how sensitive he now was to the cold when only the most extreme winter weather used to affect him. He noted Byleth clenching her arms tighter to her sides as she finished off her current row.

“It’s getting cold, beloved,” he said.

She nodded. “I’m getting tired too.” She set her knitting in its basket, tucked his book and lens with it, and then placed the basket under the table. “Time to head back?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Dimitri stretched before carefully standing again, grimacing as a spasm went through his lower back. He again extended his arm to her with a smile and she gladly took it, leaning her head against his shoulder as they strolled.

The return walk to their rooms was always slower going than the journey from them, as everything was more difficult at the end of the day. Along with having to think about simple movements, Dimitri also despised how quickly his body wore out now. A quiet day like today made him as tired as he used to feel after a full day’s march with the army, to say nothing of how much his joints ached or how his thoughts got murky. Byleth too found that simple activities depleted her energy in ways they never used to and she needed more rest in general. She suspected that the nature of her Crest and her non-human heart were shielding her from some of the other maladies that plagued Dimitri, since she did not rely on a cane for balance and so far she had no persistent pain in her bones and joints. The worst she felt was stiffness when she stayed in one place for too long, but it would go away once she started moving again.

It was fully dark and the lanterns were lit by the time they reached the third floor. Marie was waiting in front of Dimitri’s door. “Good evening, Your Majesties,” she greeted with a nod. She stepped aside and ushered them within. “I trust you enjoyed your day?”

“Quite,” Dimitri replied. He grunted as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of his bed, his joints making audible creaking noises. He handed Byleth his cane to put away, and Marie proceeded to unbutton the top of his shirt.

“Any soreness today?” she asked as she pressed two fingers against his carotid artery.

He scoffed. “I’m afraid there’s always some piece of me that aches these days.”

Marie paused, her lips moving in a silent count. “Sixty-eight. Well, at least your heart’s still going strong, Your Majesty.” She felt around his neck and shoulders, looked closely into his eye for a few seconds, and put a hand against his back and asked him to take a deep breath. Once satisfied with his vitals, her hands glowed with powerful holy light.

Byleth’s magic had lost a lot of its potency in recent years and it was also more physically taxing for her to use it, which necessitated delegating the task of Dimitri’s pain management to someone else. Marie was both Nadia’s own protege and a bearer of the Crest of Cethleann, making her the ideal choice for his personal medic. Dimitri certainly appreciated Marie’s abilities, but he secretly missed Byleth’s magic. Maybe it was his imagination or his own bias, but there was something unique about her healing spells. They carried an extra bit of warmth and felt like they went deeper, soothing not just his physical form but something in his soul as well. He’d always been able to isolate her magic from that of anyone else, even back during the war when in the thick of battle. Every time he’d felt her power seep into him, it’d given him a surge of strength.

Nonetheless, he sighed in gratitude as Marie’s recovery spell penetrated his body, erasing the pain embedded deep in his bones. The relief was always temporary, but it at least helped him sleep better. “Thank you, Marie.”

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.” She turned to Byleth. “Do you need any further assistance, Milady?”

“No, we should be fine,” Byleth said. “Thank you.”

Marie nodded. “I hope you sleep well, Your Majesty. Someone will be posted by your door if you need anything during the night.”

“Appreciated,” Dimitri said with a smile. “Goodnight.”

Byleth finished assisting him as he got ready for bed, mostly just by taking care of the fasteners on his clothes and removing his shoes. She ran a comb through his hair a few times for her own pleasure more than for his, and then helped him settle into bed. After pulling up his covers, she curled up beside him and he wrapped one arm around her.

“Are you comfortable?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you as always, beloved.” He kissed her cheek.

Dimitri had instituted their ‘sleep divorce’ around five years ago. His lifelong struggle with night terrors had gradually improved after the war ended, but they’d never truly gone away. For reasons unknown to him, their frequency had started increasing again after his eightieth year, but the real problem was that he didn’t automatically wake up from them anymore, as his advancing age led him to sleeping much more deeply. As a result, he’d wildly flail in his sleep and sometimes unknowingly hit her. After the one time he’d struck her hard enough to give her a nosebleed, he’d retreated to the bed in the adjoining queen’s chamber that until then had never been used in all of their years of marriage.

Byleth had repeatedly tried to get him to resume co-sleeping; she hadn’t been badly hurt and she missed having him beside her at night, but he’d adamantly refused. His nightmares actually got even worse after their separation, but as much as he desired the comfort of her presence, he would not sacrifice her well being for his sake. They did try sleeping in separate beds in the same room a few times, but once he’d figured out he was still disrupting her sleep, he’d insisted on separate rooms and it’d been that way ever since.

Her putting him to bed at night was a compromise. She hated not being there to soothe him amid his nightmares like she always used to, so the least she could do was ensure his nights started well. Dimitri had offered only a mild resistance; a piece of his pride bruised at such a childish arrangement, but falling asleep in her presence all but guaranteed he’d get at least half a night’s worth of quality rest. He remained, as ever, grateful for her patience and cleverness in working through problems caused by his personal defects.

“I enjoyed today,” Byleth said as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“As did I.” He idly rubbed her arm. “Any day I get to spend with you is a gift.”

She smiled. “Nadia’s news was surprising.”

“Indeed it was. I hardly believe it’s possible that we could have a great-great-grandchild. It doesn’t seem like that long ago we first became parents.” Dimitri paused, pensively staring at the ceiling. The silence stretched long enough that she thought he’d drifted off, so she was surprised to see he was still awake when she lifted her head.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said, a bit of melancholy in his voice. “I was only wondering...if we’ll get to meet the baby.”

Byleth furrowed her brow. “You mean you’re wondering when we’ll meet the baby.”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me for misspeaking.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m merely being impatient. Unless we’re up for a trip to Gloucester, I imagine it could be awhile before Philippe can make a visit to Garreg Mach.”

She shrugged. “Maybe not so long. He’s fond of Nadia, and she’ll be eager to see the baby too. We have to be patient.”

“You’re right, as always.” He embraced her, pulling her in for a kiss, his fingers combing her hair. Every time he kissed her felt like the first time, for it was always warm, exhilarating, and perfect. Even after all their years together, it still made his emotions well up from within whenever he thought about how deeply he loved her, how lucky he was that she’d chosen to spend her life with him.

Byleth smiled as they broke away, then huffed in amusement as he abruptly yawned. She kissed his forehead. “Go to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you.” Dimitri kissed her hand, then shuffled his body slightly to adjust his position and closed his eye. “Goodnight, beloved. Sleep well.”

She laid beside him, idly running her thumb across his hand, and silently waited for the telltale signs: his hand going slack in her grip, his head lilting to the side, and his breaths getting slower and deeper. Once sure he was asleep, she carefully rose from the bed, taking a moment to tuck the covers around him.

“See you in the morning,” she murmured as she slipped out the door.

Byleth sighed to herself as she made her way to her own chambers, tired but satisfied from another good day. After some trial and error upon arriving at Garreg Mach this winter, she had more or less figured out how to best manage Dimitri. She hated thinking of it like that, but there were necessary procedures to follow for everyone’s sake. He was most prone to confusion in the morning, so it was critical that Byleth or Nadia be the first person he saw each day, preferably right as he woke up. He didn’t always recognize Marie or any of the other clerics, and the perception of being among strangers, even friendly ones, could make him agitated or even aggressive. There was a near miss this winter where he’d attacked Marie with his cane, and a much scarier incident where he’d gotten hold of one of the blades from his shaving kit and Byleth had had trouble getting it away from him. Both events required use of a Divine Pulse, the first to save Marie from a concussion and the other to prevent a bloody injury to Dimitri’s hand that Byleth still wasn’t sure was accidental. She chose to believe it was.

His shaving kit was kept locked and hidden from that point on, and his cane was put away in the wardrobe at night to make sure it was out of his reach until his mindset could be determined. Byleth would bring him his breakfast and only let others into his room once she knew he was calm and aware of his surroundings. In hindsight, she wished she had thought to bring along some of the paintings or tapestries from their quarters in Fhirdiad, but when they’d left, she hadn’t thought that relocating to another, equally familiar location would prove so disorienting to him. The best she could do was ensure his room was recognizable as one at the monastery, and that it was kept austere and very clean so there were no sights or smells to trigger a negative reaction. Though he sometimes forgot why he was at Garreg Mach, he did at least instinctively know it it a safe location.

With those precautions in place, his bad days were infrequent. Byleth suspected that his mental state on a given morning directly correlated with how well he’d slept, but she couldn’t confirm her theory. If he greeted her calmly with a smile, as he’d done this morning, she knew it would be a good day. Any confusion could be cleared with a nudge, and he’d be his usual warm, earnest self, the Dimitri whom everyone admired and whom was easy to love.

Bad days began with not only confusion but also distress or even belligerence. More than once, he’d argued with her that he’d never agreed to stay at Garreg Mach and would demand that they return to Fhirdiad immediately. Other times his thoughts tangled further in the past and he’d forget he was retired. He’d insist he was missing an important meeting or he’d frantically search for an imaginary document. Sometimes she could talk him down from these delusions and get him to recognize reality, but other times it was better to play along in order to prevent upsetting him further. She’d find fake documents and take fake dictations, and once he was satisfied he’d done enough ‘work’ for the day, he’d calm down and act normally, often forgetting what had upset him in the first place.

There was one morning last moon where she’d entered his room and found him on the floor, growling threats at the underside of the bed. The details were murky to her, but Byleth had gathered that he’d fallen out of bed during a nightmare, and something in his dream had convinced him there was an assassin hiding in the shadows. Even after proving there was nothing there, he’d been in an angry, paranoid state all day, reminiscent of some of his worst episodes back during the war.

The absolute worst days, however, began not with anger or aggression, but melancholy. He would refuse to leave his room or sometimes even his bed, refuse all food, and refuse her presence, closing himself off the same way he did during those dark days long past. Byleth would loiter in the hall with his door cracked open, and she’d hear him muttering apologies that were not for her ears but for the ghosts that still haunted him. The phantoms were never satisfied, eternally demanding more of him despite how much he’d accomplished and excoriating him for the sin of aging and the limitations that came with it. It broke her heart that a part of him was still so tormented, still seeking an absolution he’d never get.

Thankfully, his periods of melancholy didn’t linger; he wouldn’t necessarily be chipper the day after an episode, but he’d at least be willing to eat and talk to her again, and he’d steadily improve from there, though sometimes she knew he was forcing himself into a better mood for her sake. He’d often spiral into apologies for burdening her, lamenting both his increasing frailty and his emotional volatility. Byleth did find the fluctuations of his moods exhausting at times, but that’d been true for as long as she’d known him. Though his mental state was more erratic these days compared to how it’d been since the end of the war, he was still her Dimitri, her dearest love, and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere other than at his side.

His one prolonged stretch of bad days coincided with Byleth catching the flu over the winter. She’d been confined to bed for ten days and the medics had forced them to isolate from each other to prevent Dimitri from contracting it as well. Nadia took over tending to him, which itself was not a problem, but he got more upset the longer they were apart, eventually convincing himself that he was being lied to about her condition. He’d tried to break into her room at several points, only relenting when she’d spoken with him from the other side of her door. It still hadn’t reassured him, probably because she’d sounded terrible. By the seventh day, Nadia reported that he’d grown despondent, refusing all food, sleeping little, and so disoriented that he’d started mixing up Byleth’s flu with her pregnancies or even battle injuries from the war. By their last day apart, he’d become so stressed that he’d failed to recognize Nadia and had spent the day lashing out in barely concealed fear at all the unfamiliar faces around him.

When Byleth’s symptoms had finally cleared and they’d reunited, Dimitri had clung to her like she was the source of his next breath. Amid his usual torrent of apologies, he’d tearfully admitted that he’d been terrified she would die. She couldn’t dismiss his fears as irrational; it was the sickest she’d ever been and it took her a few weeks to regain her full strength. It etched their frailty into the forefront of her mind, making her more determined to savor this time. After all their years spent raising their family and leading Fódlan, all she wanted was to spend her so-called golden years doing simple things with Dimitri at her side. She wanted to dote on him, be doted on by him, and prioritize what they most cherished.

And that included a very special gathering she was trying to organize.

Chapter Text

Nadia looked over the lists on her desk again, triple checking names and the inventory of the infirmary’s supplies. Everything looked in order, just as it had the last two times, and she told herself once more that she’d done the best she could. She slumped back in her chair and rubbed her temples.

Her husband gave a courtesy knock on the door before entering unprompted, his nose buried in a log book. Fabian was wiry and rather short, at least in comparison to his wife, and he wore thick glasses that were constantly sliding down his nose. His dark blue hair had gone half gray, mostly down the middle, making it resemble a skunk stripe. “Dear, I can’t seem to account for a chunk of the discretionary funds,” he said without looking up. “I fear the knight captain has been out on the town again.”

Nadia sighed. “What’s the amount?”

“Almost ten thousand gold,” Fabian said, running his finger down a column in the ledger. “I think even the famous Blade Breaker would blush at such a bar tab!”

“Ah, that was me,” Nadia said. “I took some of the funds to restock my mother’s tea supply and I haven’t paid it back yet.”

He finally looked up. “You spent ten thousand on tea?” He removed his glasses. “Does your mother intend to bathe His Majesty in chamomile now?”

She chuckled tiredly. “No, but please don’t put the idea in her head. If she thought it would do anything for Father’s mood or arthritis, she wouldn’t hesitate to try it.” Nadia straightened herself. “It wasn’t just chamomile. She wanted to have each of her guests’ favorite tea on hand.”

Fabian tipped his head, surveying his wife’s body language. “Guests? Is that what has you looking so frazzled, my dear?”

“Yes,” Nadia said. “I’ve spent all week rearranging the schedules of our medics as a precaution. You never know what could happen when you have a bunch of geriatrics gathered in one place.”

“Geriatrics?” He scrunched his eyebrows. “What kind of gathering is your mother hosting?”

“A class reunion,” Nadia said. She sighed, trying not to think about the implications of why her mother was so determined to do this. “It’ll be nice to see them again, especially uncle Dedue and aunt Mercedes. I just hope the travel isn’t too rough on them and that nothing goes awry while they’re here.”

Fabian nodded in understanding. He tucked the ledger under his arm and cleaned his glasses with his sleeve. “I shall say an extra prayer tonight, and perhaps check my supply of brandy. If there’s anything specific you need me to do, say the word.”

“Thank you, darling. I might join you for that brandy later; I need a good night’s sleep tonight before they start arriving.”

It had been almost twenty years since the Blue Lions were all gathered together. They’d all kept in touch and visited one another often across the years, but their duties and personal lives made it difficult to coordinate having everyone in the same place at the same time. Their now advanced ages presented another obstacle, but Byleth remained undeterred. She’d spent much of the winter writing letters and calling in favors across the continent to arrange getting everyone safely transported to and from Garreg Mach so she could have a reunion with all of her students, her second family.

Dimitri was excited about the meeting too, though it came with a bit of wariness. Dedue and Mercedes were the only ones he’d seen somewhat recently, since they’d visited Fhirdiad last summer, but it’d been at least a few years since he’d seen any of the others in person. He feared what they’d think when they saw him, given how much more aged and infirm he’d become. It wasn’t as though he’d been spry back then: he’d been using a cane regularly since his seventies, but the last time he’d seen Felix, Dimitri had still been capable of climbing stairs.

Ashe was the first to arrive, still sporting a cheerful smile that belied his age. His hair had turned a lighter shade of silver and his freckles had largely faded, though a few did still peek out from his wrinkles. He carried himself in a more self-assured manner than he did as a youth. Following the war, Dimitri had knighted him and made him the new head of Castle Gaspard. It was a somewhat controversial decision, since there were some in the territory who viewed Ashe as a traitor to their beloved Lord Lonato. Stories of his heroism during the war helped bolster his name and soothe some of the tension, and in time, his earnest and caring approach to guiding his people won all of the naysayers over. Ashe had grown into the peerless knight he’d always idolized, one who would be spoken of fondly long after he’d shifted off the mortal coil.

He bowed to them, though he didn’t bend over as far as he used to. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Your Majesty and Professor.”

Byleth smiled at how most of them still called her professor despite the many decades that had passed since her teaching days. The title carried a special meaning and sense of affection. “Thank you for coming, Ashe.”

“Are things well in Gaspard?” Dimitri asked.

Ashe nodded. “Maybe you already knew, but the Duchess of Itha paid us a visit at the new year. It was quite an honor to host her, and she spent a lot of time talking to the citizens and the head of the local chapel. She pledged support if I have trouble with bandits again this year and said she’d bring her notes directly to His Highness in Fhirdiad.” He smiled. “She reminds me of you, Your Majesty, with how easily she senses people’s needs.”

Dimitri blushed. “Ah, thank you. I wasn’t aware Isabeau had been in your territory. She did not mention it in her recent letter.”

“I told her Ashe was coming to visit us in our last letter, remember?” Byleth said. “She probably wanted him to tell us.”

Part of Nadia’s coordinating had involved assigning acolytes to assist each of the Lions with whatever they needed, especially getting them settled in their quarters, and they were all standing in a line behind Dimitri and Byleth as they greeted their guests. Byleth gestured to them to help Ashe, and one collected the luggage and another bowed to Ashe and indicated that he should follow him.

“Take your time getting settled,” Byleth said. “I’ll let you know when everyone’s here.”

“Thank you so much, Professor,” Ashe said. “It felt like a long trip and I had the shortest distance to travel. I’m sure the others will be even more tired.”

Felix and Annette arrived next. They had married three years after the end of the war, their courtship coming as no surprise to anyone despite Felix’s attempts to downplay it. Annette’s eternally sunny disposition provided needed balance to Felix’s prickly demeanor, and the two of them were beloved by their people. They’d rebuilt their territory to its former glory and beyond. Felix, living up to the title of Shield of Faerghus, had long served as one of Dimitri’s closest confidants and political allies throughout his reign, and Annette had worked at establishing several schools in the duchy and even acted as teacher in one for awhile. She also wrote a lot of silly songs that were popular in taverns across Faerghus, though no one quite understood the meanings of the lyrics.

Like Dimitri and Byleth, Felix and Annette had withdrawn from politics several years ago, and their son Govan was now Duke Fraldarius. Govan and Étienne had been close friends since childhood, like two sides of the same coin, continuing the long tradition that had held since the age of Loog and Kyphon.

“Hey, boar. You look like shit,” Felix greeted, gesturing his free hand at Dimitri. The other gripped a black cane with a fancy silver top inscribed with the Crest of Fraldarius. Felix looked odd with gray hair, the dull color no longer making the striking contrast with his pale skin that his dark hair had. He also had deep wrinkles around his mouth, the end product of his many years sporting his legendary scowl.

Annette had grayed too, all traces of red gone from her hair, but she still possessed a bubbly bounce to her steps. She hit her husband in the shoulder. “Felix, that’s so rude.”

Dimitri chuckled to hide his unease. Though he’d long built up an immunity to Felix’s various ‘compliments,’ this particular one did confirm his worries. “I take no offense. Thank you for coming, Felix.”

“Whatever,” Felix grunted as he hobbled closer. He pointed an accusing finger at Byleth. “Why couldn’t you have had this reunion while you were still living in Fhirdiad? I can’t believe you dragged us all this way for a tea party.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Annette said. “The whole way here, he couldn’t stop talking about how much he wanted to see everyone and whether or not anything at the monastery had changed.”

Felix’s cheeks went pink. “We haven’t been here in years. It’s only natural to be curious.”

“Are Mercie and Dedue here yet?” Annette asked. “It’s been so, so long since I saw them. I think it was the last time we made it to Fhirdiad for the summer solstice.”

Felix nodded. “That was what? Three years ago?”

“Seven,” Byleth corrected, causing both of them to startle.

“Time really does slip by fast these days doesn’t it?” Annette observed with a said smile.

“Indeed it does.” Dimitri nodded with an equally sad smile. Neither of them had changed much since the last time he saw them, which was a relief, but to his eyes they seemed to be aging better than he was, even with Felix also using a cane now.

“They aren’t here yet, but should be soon,” Byleth said. She beckoned to another servant to get their luggage. “Go get settled and rest, and we’ll gather later.”

“Thanks, Professor!” Annette chirped. She took Felix’s arm. “The trip was rather tiring.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Felix grumbled. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I need an afternoon nap.”

Byleth and Dimitri smiled at each other as they heard him continue to grouse as he walked away. It wasn’t much later when Ingrid and Sylvain arrived at the same time. She gave a shallow but respectful bow to Dimitri and Byleth yet did not attempt to squelch her broad smile. Ingrid still carried herself like a knight despite being long retired, and she’d aged with the same grace she’d once displayed on the battlefield. She’d declined to rule House Galatea, leaving it in the care of her elder brother, and had gone on to form an elite order of pegasus knights who served as personal guards to the nobility. Aside from her heroism during the war, Ingrid had earned a mythical status as a knight without peer and she had many admirers across the kingdom. It was rare that an up and coming pegasus knight didn’t speak of Ingrid as an inspiration and aspirational figure.

Sylvain remained rakishly handsome. His hair still had some faint traces of red amid the silver, his wrinkled smile was still charming and seductive, and his eyes were still alight with mischief. He’d become a little stooped in recent years, and he walked with a cane that was shaped like the Lance of Ruin. Much like Felix, Sylvain had been one of Dimitri’s strongest political allies, his most notable achievement being the chief negotiator behind the Sreng Accords, which had finally brought peace between the regions. He’d also been the biggest backer of Dimitri’s creation of the kingdom’s parliament system, using his great people and oratory skills to help persuade the other nobles that this was the proper way forward to make a Fódlan that was less reliant on Crests and Relics.

He’d retired from his position as margrave eight years ago and his Crestless daughter was now the head of House Gautier. There was no doubt Sylvain would go down in history as an extraordinary lord, though his reputation as a bit of a scoundrel had never left him, despite the fact that he was a faithful and devoted husband. He still eagerly flirted with any pretty face he encountered.

“Hey Professor,” he greeted with a grin. “Good to see you’re still as ravishing as ever. You age like a fine wine.”

Byleth rolled her eyes. He’d been using that same line for a few decades now. “I hope your trip went well.”

He shrugged. “Any trip out of Gautier territory feels like it takes forever these days. I at least caught a couple of zzzs along the way, so it could’ve been worse.” He turned to Dimitri. “How’s retirement treating you, Your Majesty?”

“Well enough,” Dimitri deferred. “It’s good to see you, Sylvain. How many years has it been?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvain said. “I can’t remember if you were technically retired or not the last time.”

“It’s been seven years,” Byleth said. “You were at the same festival as Felix and Annette.”

“Is that so?” Sylvain asked. “Wow, I need to get out more. Maidens across the kingdom must be mourning the absence of my handsome visage.”

Ingrid buried her face in her palm while Byleth and Dimitri gave each other a knowing side-eye. “Sylvain,” Ingrid said. “Must you really?”

“Just doing my job of keeping the mood light,” Sylvain said. “You’re all looking too serious. This is a happy occasion, isn’t it?”

“I’m glad you never change,” Dimitri said, and he sincerely meant it. No one else could bring such a jovial air wherever he went.

Sylvain directed a toothy grin at Ingrid. “See? My candor is appreciated!”

Ingrid sighed fondly. “Thank you again for the invitation. It’s wonderful to be here. Are we the last ones to arrive?”

“We’re still waiting for Dedue and Mercedes,” Byleth said. She motioned to the acolytes. “Please, make yourselves at home.”

“It really does feel like old times,” Sylvain said as he shuffled away. “This place looks just how I remember it.”

“It does,” Ingrid agreed as she followed after him. “It almost feels like we’re here for the first day of class again.”

Dimitri sighed, rolling his shoulders and shifting on his chair. It was a challenge to keep his body somewhat limber when it was difficult to stand for more than a few minutes at a time. More troublesome were the butterflies in his stomach that were giving him an urge to pace that he couldn’t indulge.

“Are you OK?” Byleth asked. “Do you need healing?”

“No, I’m fine,” he said. “I am simply eager for Dedue to arrive.”

She smiled. She knew he was excited for the whole of their class reunion, but seeing Dedue and Mercedes again meant a lot to her too. They were basically family. Dedue had served as the captain of the royal guard for the entirety of Dimitri’s reign and had played an integral role in the reconciliation with Duscur. Mercedes had been the head medic and royal midwife as well as one of Byleth’s unofficial advisors on church policy. Their twin boys had grown up in the castle alongside Byleth and Dimitri’s children, and they thought of each other as cousins or honorary siblings.

Outside of their official work within the castle, Dedue and Mercedes had also opened a school in the Duscur residential district in Fhirdiad. Dimitri, fully supporting the endeavor, had secured funding for the school in its formative years, and the school proved integral in preserving Duscur history and culture ahead of the eventual reconciliation. Dedue and Mercedes were beloved figures in Duscur, and they currently lived there with their children and grandchildren.

After Dimitri ceded his duties to Étienne, he’d formally dismissed Dedue from his service and encouraged him and Mercedes to enjoy their golden years with their family and their flower gardens in Duscur. Tears had been shed that day. It hadn’t been easy parting from them; for so many years they’d been a near constant presence in the castle, unflinching pillars of support whom had been integral to Dimitri and Byleth’s success as stewards of Fódlan. They’d made a point to visit Fhirdiad every summer afterwards; one of the reasons Dimitri had protested moving to Garreg Mach permanently was that it was so far away from Dedue and Mercedes.

It’d been an ordeal securing transportation to and from Duscur for them, but Byleth had refused to take no for an answer, going so far as to strongarm some of her former church subordinates to see it done. No class reunion would be complete without Dedue and Mercedes. She’d worried too that the journey might be too difficult for them, especially Mercedes, but Dedue’s reply letter assured her they were up for the journey and eager to attend.

Byleth’s stone heart fluttered at the way Dimitri’s whole face lit up when Dedue and Mercedes finally appeared. He was so eager that he rose from his seat and shuffled forward to meet them on approach.

“Dedue!” Dimitri greeted, a current of giddiness in his voice. “Welcome, my friend. It’s so good to see you.”

“Dimitri.” Dedue smiled. The years hadn’t changed him much beyond making him visibly older, wrinkles intermixed with the scars on his face. He had shrunk somewhat in recent years, his chest less broad and his middle more paunchy, and Byleth was certain he’d lost a bit of height as well, but it didn’t change the fact that he dwarfed everyone. He looked at Dimitri with reverence, but there was a tinge of sadness to it, like he was seeing a priceless work of art that’d fallen into decay.

“I’m so glad we made it,” Mercedes said. She was clinging to Dedue’s arm, the other leaning hard on her plain wooden cane. She’d become increasingly hunched and frail since retirement. Her wispy white hair was woven in a long plait and her smile was as sweet and warm as it ever was, but every time she took a step, she wobbled in a way that made it seem like a breeze could knock her over. “It’s good to see you both again, Byleth, Dimitri. It feels like it’s been longer than a year since our last meeting.”

“It does,” Dedue agreed. “Have the others arrived?”

“Yes, they’re all getting settled,” Byleth said.

“Oh, I can’t wait to see Annie,” Mercedes said. “But I think I need to lie down first. I’m a bit tired from the trip.”

“Of course,” Byleth said, motioning to the remaining acolytes. “There’s no rush. I planned to have dinner sent to everyone and all we’ll meet up together for tea tomorrow.”

“That sounds lovely,” Mercedes said. “You’re so thoughtful, Byleth.”

“Are things well in Duscur?” Dimitri asked as he walked alongside them. Mercedes was probably the one person who moved even slower than he did, and it was a relief to not be the cause of delaying everyone for a change.

“Yes, it was a fair winter,” Dedue said. “Our granddaughter helped me plant some new bulbs last fall, and they have bloomed this spring.”

“We got a nice letter from Étienne not long ago,” Mercedes said. “It’s sweet he still takes time to write to us with how busy he must be.”

“It sounds like things are well in Fhirdiad,” Dedue added.

“I miss it,” Dimitri said with a wistful sigh. “But it’s probably better I’m here. There’s too much temptation at the castle, and I’m sure Étienne is much happier not having me poking into his work anymore.”

Byleth and Dedue exchanged a look, a mutual knowing smile barely visible on their faces. “I’m sure he appreciated your council,” Dedue said. “But I hope you are happy living here at the monastery.”

Dimitri nodded, smiling. “Spending peaceful days here with Byleth at my side...I cannot complain about that. And now with you and the others here? It feels like a holiday.”

Byleth was glad she’d listened to Nadia’s suggestion and not planned anything for that night; not only were all the Lions exhausted from their travels, but Byleth and Dimitri were also tired and in need of some quiet by the time everyone was settled. They ate dinner in his room and went to bed immediately afterwards.

Everyone was fresher the next day, and they gathered at a table set up in the gazebo. The weather was perfect, comfortably warm with a slight breeze, and there were helpers around to bring more food and tea and assist with anything else that was needed. Nadia intended to leave them be for the most part, but she did stop by to say hello and chat briefly before returning to her duties. She assigned a medic to keep watch just in case; her mother told her she was being paranoid, but she’d rather be prepared, for it could spell the difference between a scare versus a tragedy, and this reunion should be a joyful occasion for everyone.

And joyful it was. Bursts of laughter echoed beyond the gazebo with regularity as the group engaged in light chatter and swapped a wide range of stories. Many of the students who passed by paused to admire the sight, awed when they realized they were looking at probably the most famous class to ever attend the Officers Academy. The pots of tea were regularly refilled with every variety Byleth had secured for the occasion, so each of her friends could drink their favorite, and plates of food kept flowing in as the hours passed.

Inevitably, once they’d caught up on their current lives and shared enough stories about their families and various experiences they’d had on their own over the years, they started reminiscing about the Officers Academy. They bounced around all of the good memories they shared of that time, from their initial meetings to the first mock battle, to winning the Battle of the Eagle and Lion and the daily minutiae of going to class, learning and studying. Everyone smiled and laughed as they talked, even Felix. Byleth felt warm. Excluding Jeralt’s death and the foul workings of the Flame Emperor leading up to the war, her days as a professor were still among her best memories. She had no idea back then how drastically her life would change after meeting Dimitri and the Lions.

Looking back, that year was when she’d truly begun to live.

It was when their conversation turned to Annette’s victory in the White Heron Cup followed by their memories of the Garreg Mach ball that Dimitri’s nostalgia turned painful. He and Byleth had not danced that night, much to his regret, but they’d shared many, many dances since then. There was their dance at their wedding, the happiest day of his life, the dances at their children’s weddings, the many balls and celebrations they’d attended as king and queen. He’d never cared much for dancing prior to meeting Byleth, but having her as a partner had made all the difference. Having her in his arms while moving to music was truly magical, a joy that had never lessened over the years. Despite so many eyes being on them when they took the floor, the moments always felt intimate in a way nothing else did.

Goddess, he missed that feeling. They hadn’t shared a proper dance in years, not since the days before they’d started sleeping in separate bedrooms. They’d swayed to music for a few minutes at his last birthday, but he was too stiff and unsteady on his feet now to do anything more than that. He couldn’t lead her in a waltz, dip her, twirl her, couldn’t get lost in the moment or the music.

“Dimitri?” Byleth turned to him when she heard his muffled sob. “What’s the matter?”

“Ah, pay me no mind,” Dimitri said through a sniffle. “Please, keep talking among yourselves. I’ll be fine.”

Byleth lifted his chin, her brow pinched. She brushed a tear away with her thumb. “Whatever is bothering you, you don’t have to hide it. Tell us. Please.”

He forced a smile. “I was determined I wouldn’t be like this while everyone was here, but I can’t seem to control myself.” He looked away in shame as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry...that I can no longer dance with you, beloved.”

Oh. Byleth’s breath hitched and she embraced him, feeling his heartache throb within her body. Yes, she wished she could dance with him too, just as she wished they could spar in the training yard, go for a horseback ride, make love, or even just share the same bedroom again. All of those things they used to do together without a second thought.

Dimitri wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face into her midsection. “I’m sorry, everyone,” he murmured, his voice trembling. He was resolved that he wasn’t going to break down into tears, but it was taking all of his willpower to hold them back. Of course he’d failed at keeping his emotions in check when it was paramount that he do so. What a wretch he was, bringing everyone down on a day where they were happily gathered together for the first time in ages. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“No.” She stroked his hair. “I regret it too. I wish we could dance together again. I miss it.”

“Hey, getting old sucks,” Sylvain chimed in. “Sure, I’m still just as handsome as I ever was, but the ladies don’t react the same way they used to. Now instead of swooning, they smile politely and look at me like I’m not right in the head.”

“You were never right in the head,” Felix interjected.

“Sylvain.” Ingrid frowned. “I hardly think that’s comparable to what His Majesty is talking about.”

“What? It’s a legitimate problem!” Sylvain said defensively. “And don’t get me started on how much my back hurts every morning.”

“It’s OK, Dimitri,” Mercedes said. “I miss dancing too.” She looked at her hands. “And I miss being able to knit and sew. And bake treats. It’s all too hard for my hands now.”

Dedue put a hand on her arm. “I can no longer bend over my flowerbeds. Cooking is difficult too. I cut myself the last time I used a knife.”

“I miss dancing too,” Annette said. “And I can’t sing the way I used to either. My voice cracks and I’m all off key, and I keep forgetting the lyrics.”

“Your voice sounds fine,” Felix said. He paused, folding his arms. “I miss sparring with Govan. Or sparring at all. Having to put down my sword for good...it was like cutting off a limb. I can still feel it there, itching to be used. Drives me crazy.”

Ashe sighed. “I miss crafting bows and practicing trick shots. But I think I miss riding my horse most of all. Sitting up there on the saddle always made me feel so proud and strong.”

Ingrid nodded in agreement, letting out a wistful sigh of her own. “I miss riding my pegasus. Being high in the sky, the wind in my face...there’s nothing else like it. I’d give almost anything to do it again. Or even to just groom mine, but anything more than some brush strokes is too exhausting now.”

Sylvain sighed too, his expression serious. “Yeah, I miss that too. And it was nice when traveling didn’t make me feel like I’d been beaten with a shovel afterwards.” He tapped his cane on the ground. “You don’t know how good you have it until you wake up one day and discover it’s a battle just to take a piss on your own.”

Byleth rolled her eyes, but she heard Dimitri snort, so the crude comment had at least partially cut through his melancholy. He pulled back from her and wiped his face. “Thank you, everyone.”

“It’s OK to be sad about getting old,” Mercedes said. “Sometimes it’s hard not to be. But...I’m glad I’m here with all of you. I’m glad we’ve all stayed friends after all these years.”

“Mercie….” Annette got up and went over to hug her. “We’ll always be friends, for as long as we live and even beyond it!”

Sylvain lifted his teacup. “I’ll drink to that.”

“So will I,” Ashe chimed in, also lifting his cup.

“That’s the first reasonable thing you’ve said all day, Sylvain,” Ingrid said as she lifted her own cup.

Everyone else raised their teacups and toasted to the sentiment as well, including Felix. He scoffed at first, but a pouty glare from Annette convinced him to join in, and he raised his cup the highest.

They sat around and continued to talk until it got dark, and it was only then that any of them realized how late it had gotten. Exhaustion hit them all like a ballista bolt and they soon dispersed to their quarters. Byleth’s head was fuzzy as she escorted Dimitri to his room, everyone’s voices and pieces of their many conversations still echoing in her ears, but she was warm and content from the events of the day.

Dimitri swayed slightly as he walked, ambling like a zombie towards the sanctuary of his bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this tired, and his aching joints didn’t help either. It all made his thoughts incredibly murky, leaving his sense of time and place disorganized as past and present randomly intermingled in his head.

When they finally reached his room, he sank down onto the edge of his bed with a heavy groan, and he almost toppled backwards onto the mattress. Marie was there as she always was, ready to check him over and administer her healing.

“I was starting to worry,” she said. “I’m surprised you were out so late, You Majesties.”

“We lost track of the time,” Byleth said.

“Ah.” Marie smiled as she checked Dimitri’s vitals. “I trust you and your guests enjoyed yourselves?”

“Very much,” Byleth said.

“Any soreness today, Your Majesty?” Marie asked.

Dimitri bobbed his head. He sighed in relief as her healing magic washed over him. It did nothing to relieve his fatigue or clear his muddled thoughts, but it made him feel more ready for sleep. “...Thank you,” he said automatically.

Marie left the room and Byleth quickly went about getting Dimitri undressed and ready for bed. He was almost inert as she worked, unable to do much to assist other than grip his cane so he didn’t fall over. She smiled sadly at the realization of how much the day had worn him out and wondered if the others were similarly tired. She vowed to not let time get away from her so badly tomorrow.

“Here.” She set his cane aside before carefully easing him back to the pillows.

He flopped down as soon as she let go, making another loud groan. “Thank you,” he murmured automatically again, his eye half-lidded.

She moved his legs so he was lying more straight and then pulled up the covers before sitting beside him. “Are you comfortable?” she asked.

“Hm?” He blinked at her, his eyebrows knitting as he scrutinized her features. He was struck by her beauty as well as her familiarity. The woman before him was much older, with wrinkles along her eyes and mouth, and her hair was a different color, such a pale green that it was nearly silver, but the resemblance was otherwise uncanny. “You’re so much like her.”

Her brow pinched in confusion. “Like whom?”

“My professor.”

Byleth’s breath hitched, a painful squeezing sensation overtaking her chest. It took her a few seconds to swallow the mass that had abruptly formed in her throat, and another few seconds to figure out how to respond. He was already exhausted; attempting to correct him might rile him up and make it difficult for him to sleep, so she thought it better to play along. “Is that so?”

He gave her a dopey smile. “Yes. Have I ever told you about her? She’s kind and caring. Beautiful. And so strong. Watching her in the training yard or on the battlefield...she’s so graceful. Mesmerizing.”

Despite the hurt in her heart, Byleth found a small smile emerging on her lips. “You sound like you’re fond of her.”

Dimitri blushed. “Can you keep a secret?” She nodded. “I want to marry her. I tried to work up the nerve to propose on the night of the ball, but when the moment came, I couldn’t summon the courage to ask.”

She almost laughed, thinking back to that night long ago at the Goddess Tower. It’d always struck her as suspicious that he’d led her up there and then played off his wish as a joke. If only he’d known back then how eagerly she would’ve said yes, but thankfully they’d reached the same destination despite the five year detour.

“Were you afraid she’d refuse?” she asked.

He turned his head away from her and was quiet a second. “Yes, but more than that, I…” He paused again. “I shouldn’t be selfish. Someone like her deserves better than anything I could give her. She deserves to be free, not burdened with all the responsibilities and hollow pageantry of this life. And...” His eye squeezed shut and his mouth curled into a pained grimace. “...She should not be forever chained to a beast.”

Byleth frowned. It’d been a long time since she’d heard him speak of himself that way, but it was no less upsetting now than it was then. “Dimitri.” She tipped his head towards her and waited for him to open his eye. “Do you love her?”

“Oh...more than anything,” he said, his voice full of awe and the look in his eye nakedly yearning. It made the squeezing sensation in her chest more painful but it also made a fluttery feeling join it. “I can imagine no greater joy than having her by my side. If it were so, I would do anything and everything in my power to make her happy.” He smiled to himself. “She would be the queen of my heart just as much as the queen of my kingdom.”

She smiled. As confused as her feelings were about this conversation, she still felt warm inside. Even with all their years together, her husband remained her sweet, devoted prince at his core. “Then I think she would consider herself lucky to be with you.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.” She brushed his hair out of his face. “You should tell her the truth. Tell her exactly what you told me. I have a feeling she’d reciprocate.”

Dimitri scrutinized her again, then he chuckled. “That sounds like something she’d say too. Perhaps you’re right.”

She patted his hand. “You’ve had a long day. Get some rest.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eye with a sigh, a niggling thought pulling at him that he’d just done or said something foolish, but he was too tired to dwell on it.

As always, Byleth waited to make sure he fell asleep. It was unlikely he’d remember this lapse in his memory come morning, and she wouldn’t bring it up unless he did, but he’d never been so confused that he’d failed to recognize her before. A weight pressed on her heart, but she didn’t want to engage with the possible implications. It was just as likely that it was only due to exhaustion and all the reminiscing they’d done today about their time at the Academy. After all, he hadn’t forgotten her; he’d been wandering in a fog of nostalgia and his mind had failed to connect her current face with her youthful one.

She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Sleep well, my love,” she murmured.

“Beloved…” he slurred back.

She smiled, the weight easing. Yes, he was just very tired from a busy day. That was all.

The following days were a bit more restrained, with everyone retiring to their rooms before dark and more lulls in the conversations during the day. Some of them took short naps in the afternoons, and sometimes parts of the group split off to go for walks around the monastery. On the final night of the reunion, they shared a big feast together in the dining hall with a bevy of different foods and even cracked open a few bottles of good wine.

It was bittersweet when it came time for their guests to depart. It’d been a wonderful week but also an exhausting one. Everyone got a bit teary-eyed as they said their goodbyes, even Felix, despite his efforts to hide it. They wished each other well and promised to continue staying in touch. Sylvain cracked a dark joke about their next reunion being at a funeral, but no one thought it was funny, and Ingrid and Felix smacked him for it.

By design, Dedue and Mercedes stayed an additional week. Byleth assumed Mercedes could use more rest ahead of the long journey back, and Dedue’s presence was always a boost to Dimitri’s mood. Plus Byleth just wanted some extra time with them in particular. She chose not to dwell on the thought, but she knew deep down there was a chance she might never see any of her Lions after this gathering, and that was particularly true of Mercedes, given how fragile she’d become. Dedue seemed to be thinking the same way, as a wistful look appeared in his eyes whenever he looked at either his wife or Dimitri.

The weather remained fair, so they were able to sit outside and continue enjoying the fresh air and sunshine while they visited over many more pots of tea. Nadia and Fabian joined them for one afternoon, sharing stories about their children, grandchildren, and their many nieces and nephews. Mercedes teared up at the news about the pending birth of Philippe’s first child. Since she’d helped deliver all four of Byleth’s children, to her it was like learning of a surrogate great-great-grandchild.

Dimitri felt more at ease with just Dedue and Mercedes compared to the entire class reunion. As enjoyable as it was seeing everyone and being all together, it was easier to follow conversations with fewer voices and less exhausting in general being in a smaller group. Nor did he feel as guilty if he nodded off in the afternoon, since Mercedes often did so as well, and neither Byleth nor Dedue felt compelled to wake them. It was the kind of relaxed, unfussed atmosphere that could only be found with very close friends and family.

But it couldn’t last forever, as the week passed all too quickly. The four of them shared a light breakfast by the greenhouse as servants gathered the luggage and prepared the carriage. Dedue decided to take one last walk through and around the greenhouse to admire the plants, and Byleth chose to join him. They walked in a comfortable silence until they finished their loop through the building and returned to the outside, where he stopped in front of a flower bed full of chionodoxa. There was something in his expression that she couldn’t quite read.

“He’s changed a lot,” Dedue eventually said. “Since I last saw him.”

Byleth nodded, not really thinking too much about his words. “It was a hard winter. It took a lot out of me too. I got sick and it took me a whole moon to recover.”

Dedue pursed his lips. “I see. Was Dimitri also ill?”

“No, thankfully. The medics kept us apart so he wouldn’t catch it.” She chose not to disclose how hard that separation had been on Dimitri; Dedue would likely surmise it on his own.

“That’s good.” He looked at the chionodoxa. It had finished blooming for the season, with most of the blossoms lying dead in the soil. A few drooping blooms were still hanging on, but it wouldn’t be long before they also fell off, and some of the foliage was starting to wither as well, turning from bright green to yellow. Most of the other spring flowers nearby were also going into remission as the hot summer days edged closer. He glanced at where Dimitri and Mercedes were sitting, and then back to the flowers. “No flower lasts forever, no matter how much we wish otherwise.”

“I thought these were perennials,” Byleth said.

Dedue’s lips twitched. “Yes. The roots of this one are strong. It will grow many new flowers, some perhaps more beautiful than the ones that came before. But the previous flowers will never come back.” He looked at the rhododendrons, bleeding heart and lilacs, taking in what was left of the majesty of their colors, then turned to Byleth. “Thank you for inviting us, Professor.”

“Of course,” she said. “We’ve missed you and Mercedes.”

“It’s mutual,” Dedue said. “I am grateful to have spent these last few years with Mercedes and our children and grandchildren, but you and Dimitri are also my family.”

She nodded. “Yes. That will never change.” She looked over and noticed Dimitri and Mercedes were holding hands, leaning quite close to one another. They were both smiling, but the expressions were tinged with sadness. It made a heavy feeling settle in Byleth’s chest.

An acolyte appeared to inform them that the carriage was ready, so Byleth and Dedue rejoined their spouses. Dedue smiled slightly on approach, but it too was tinged with sadness. “They’re ready, Mercedes.”

“Oh.” Mercedes looked disappointed. “It’ll be good to go home, but part of me hates to leave. It’s been such a lovely visit.”

Dedue nodded in agreement. “I feel the same. There are many memories in this place.”

“I cannot overstate how much I appreciate that you came,” Dimitri said. “Both of you.”

“Of course,” Mercedes said. “We were both eager to come, even with the long journey.” She looked to Byleth and then back to Dimitri with the same sad smile. “It meant a lot to see you again.”

“Yes,” Dimitri said softly. He gave her hand a squeeze, studying her face to reinforce it inside his memory. No matter how much she’d aged, her gentle smile was exactly the same as the one she’d employed back during their sewing lessons, when she’d patiently guided him despite the countless needles he’d snapped.

The four of them slowly walked to the waiting carriage; Mercedes held onto both Dedue and Byleth for support the whole way. When they reached the carriage, she shared an embrace with Dimitri and then Byleth before Dedue helped her inside, and then he turned back to Dimitri and extended his hand. Dimitri grasped it with nearly his full strength. It was enough to make Dedue wince fondly, glad to see that even aged, Dimitri was still capable of a potent grip.

They stared at each other for a few moments, a million unspoken words passing between them. Dimitri’s eye watered, thinking of all of the years Dedue had been by his side, of all the joy and pain they’d experienced together, and how they were brothers in every way but blood. The path that led them to meeting each other was a tragic one, but neither of them would trade the time they’d had together for anything.

“Dedue.” There was so much Dimitri wanted to say, but it was impossible to find the right words to express the entirety of his love and gratitude for the life they’d shared.

Dedue forced a small smile, wistful but also mournful. “Thank you for everything, Dimitri.”

Dimitri swallowed, willing himself not to get emotional. “Yes. Thank you, Dedue. For everything.” He paused and then, unable to simply leave it at that, leaned in and put his arms around Dedue, who made a startled noise before returning the gesture. The number of times the two of them had actually embraced could be counted on one hand, so it effectively spoke what words could not. Byleth and Mercedes smiled at the sight. Aside from being heartwarming, it was also amusing because Dedue was perhaps the one person in Fódlan who made Dimitri look small.

“Be well, Dimitri,” Dedue said when they parted. He paused, his hand lingering on Dimitri’s shoulder. “Until we meet again.”

“You as well,” Dimitri replied. “Take care, my friend.”

“Farewell,” Byleth said. “Safe travels to you both.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Dedue briefly touched her arm before climbing into the carriage. “I know you’ll take good care of him.”

She nodded, taking Dimitri’s hand. “Always.”

Mercedes wiped her eyes, forcing another smile. “Goodbye, Byleth. Dimitri. Thank you again.”

Byleth and Dimitri waved as the carriage departed. Dedue and Mercedes each waved back from the windows before the vehicle disappeared from view. Byleth smiled, warm and satisfied from the visit, but also relieved and ready to go back to their usual quiet days. She was hungry too, since it was lunchtime, so she gave Dimitri’s arm a tug to guide him towards the dining hall.

He stared after Dedue a moment longer before obliging her directive. “...Farewell, my brother,” he murmured under his breath.

*****

Dimitri went into a profound funk after Dedue’s departure, and no matter what Byleth tried, she couldn’t get him to open up and tell her what was wrong. Most mornings he sent her away after breakfast and continued to reject her presence when she returned later to check on him. He declined to leave his room, ate very little, and there were a few days where he never got out of bed.

After a straight week of this, she arrived with breakfast at the usual time to find he was still asleep. She set the tray aside to wait, and as she straightened, he made a loud moaning sound. His head rolled side to side and his hands clenched the bedcovers as he was lost in the throes of another nightmare. Knowing better than to try touching him, Byleth called to him instead, calmly repeating his name at a modest volume until he startled awake.

“Dimitri?” She slowly approached the bed. Even with his eye open, he didn’t look like he knew where he was. “Can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding and it took him a moment to catch his breath. He blinked a few times as he turned towards her voice. “P-professor?”

A pang went through her chest, but she ignored it as she carefully lowered herself to sit beside him. “Yes, it’s me. You’re at Garreg Mach. You’re safe.”

He squinted, scrutinizing her face as he tried to figure out why she looked different from how he thought she should. It took a few more moments before the pieces gradually fell into place and his mind centered itself in reality. He reached for her hand. “Sorry, beloved.”

“It’s OK.” Her brow pinched as she threaded her fingers through his hair. His bangs were damp. “You were having a nightmare.”

Dimitri leaned into her touch and ran his thumb over her other hand as he took several deep, slow breaths. He stared up at her with a helpless look, a bit of moisture visible at the corner of his eye. Byleth hated seeing him so obviously troubled, but she didn’t know how to help when he refused to explain what was bothering him.

“Please talk to me,” she said. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He sighed, guilt gnawing at him. He hated being the cause of her worry, but even if he wanted to talk with her about his recent dreams, which he didn’t, it wouldn’t do anything to assuage her concerns. If anything, it would probably upset her more. “I am sorry, beloved, for causing you distress. I’m all right.”

She forced back any indicators of her frustration. “Then at least eat something. Here.” She helped him sit up and stuffed several pillows behind his back. He grimaced as she maneuvered him, pain shooting down the length of his spine. She set the tray in front of him. “Eat. I’ll get Marie.”

Dimitri sighed again. He wanted to ask Byleth to heal him herself, the memory of the sensation teasing at the ache in his soul and promising relief. He knew it was a lie, a wistful nostalgia coloring his perception, yet he couldn’t stop the nagging idea that it might help anyway. But he would never ask, knowing how much it taxed her to use magic these days. Marie came and soothed his pain, and then continued to fuss unprompted with assessing his vitals and checking for any specific ailments like wounds or sores, and his annoyance boiled over.

“Enough,” he growled, batting her away with his hand. “You’ve done what was asked, now leave.”

Marie startled, almost jumping back from the bed. She exchanged a quick glance with Byleth. “Of course. Forgive me, Your Majesty.” She bowed and hastily left the room.

Byleth bit her lip. “It looks like another beautiful day. Fresh air might help.”

He shook his head, rubbing his face. “Go on and enjoy it without me. I’m tired.”

“Oh.” Her eyes burned as she picked up the tray. He’d taken all of three bites of his meager breakfast. She feared he’d waste away at this rate. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“Yes.” Dimitri kept his head turned away, unable to bear the worried expression he knew was plastered on her face.

“All right,” she murmured, stifling the lump in her throat. “I’ll come back later. Ring the bell if you need anything in the meantime.”

He caught the sadness in her voice and his guilt intensified, but it was still a relief to be alone. He depended on her so much now, needing her for practically every little thing, and he knew he’d never be able to return the gesture in kind. The least he could do was protect her from his dark musings. Better he stew in those thoughts by himself without burdening her further.

He bristled when there was a knock on his door some time later. That wouldn’t be Byleth, since she never knocked, which meant it was likely a servant. He glanced out the window and surmised it might be close to lunchtime, but he wasn’t interested in eating. “Leave,” he said to the door. “I will not be taking a meal.”

The door opened anyway, and a priest stood at the threshold. He was fairly elderly, with gray hair and wrinkles on his face, but he still had some spryness in his posture. “Your Majesty? Forgive me for disturbing you, but I was hoping I could have a word?”

Dimitri frowned and let out an annoyed huff. “What is it then?”

Sensing opportunity, the priest fully entered the room, closing the door behind him, and bowed. “My name is Camiel, Your Majesty. I’m not sure if you remember, but we’ve met before, a very long time ago.” He took a step closer. “I was born in a small settlement in the western part of old Faerghus. It was sacked by the Imperial Army during the war and my sister and I were the only survivors.”

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri said. He meant it sincerely, but the words came out sounding tired. He’d been picking at old wounds enough on his own and didn’t desire to share in the misery.

“Our parents had shoved us into the crawl space beneath our house,” Camiel continued. “We stayed there through the whole raid. We heard all the sounds, all of the screams.” He paused, the memories still difficult even after so many years. “We waited until everything was silent before we emerged. There was blood and bodies everywhere, no sign of anyone alive. My sister and I could only stumble around in shock, but then a man suddenly appeared. He was clad in black armor and a blue cloak bearing the Kingdom’s emblem. We thought he was a knight.”

Dimitri’s mouth fell open, the haze surrounding the long ago event lifting. “I see. You are…”

Camiel nodded, smiling slightly. “Yes. You put my sister on your back and took me in your arms, and you carried us all through the night until we arrived at a village near Garreg Mach.”

“And I left you there without ever saying a word to you,” Dimitri growled to himself. That was right before he’d reunited with Byleth; he’d continued to the then abandoned monastery when he’d heard rumors of thieves and Imperial soldiers in the area.

“On the contrary,” Camiel said. “When you found us, you said you’d take us to safety, and you did.” He closed the distance between them. “After the Kingdom army set up at the monastery, the villagers all moved up there for protection. I was eager to explore it and I got lost and separated from my sister in my wanderings. I wound up at the cathedral, and I was thrilled when I stumbled upon you there. I remember thanking you for saving me, and you patted me on the head and told me how to get back to the main hall.”

“...I don’t remember that,” Dimitri muttered. Much of that period was a blur to him, as he was so caught up in his delusions and quest for revenge that little else stuck in his mind.

“I still had no idea who you were at that point,” Camiel continued. He chuckled. “I told anyone who would listen that the knight in black was my hero, and one of the monks finally realized who I was talking about and told me you were the prince. I got even more excited after that. I couldn’t believe the prince himself had saved my life.”

Dimitri’s face went bright red. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I remained here at Garreg Mach after the war,” Camiel said. “I had aspirations to become a knight when I grew up, but I realized as a teenager that I had no talent with a weapon. So instead, I joined the clergy, and I’ve spent my life doing the Goddess’ work: raising other orphans, distributing food to the hungry and healing the sick. My sister became a school teacher in a small village, passing knowledge onto future generations. We’ve been able to help hundreds of other people because you saved our lives back then, Your Majesty.”

Something sank inside Dimitri’s chest, but he also felt a bit of irritation under his skin. “I...appreciate you telling me all of this, Camiel. Truly, I do. I’m happy to learn you went on to live such a fulfilling life.” He paused, frowning. “However, the timing of your visit is a bit suspicious, if you’ll pardon my saying so. I can’t help but think that my wife put you up it.”

“Actually, it was the Archbishop,” Camiel said in good humor. “Though I’d bet she got the idea after speaking with the queen.” Dimitri made a scoffing noise and looked towards the window. Camiel leaned forward slightly. “They are simply concerned, Your Majesty. They can tell your heart is troubled and want to help.”

Dimitri sighed, guilt curdling his insides again. “These are not things I wish to speak of to them. It would merely upset them, and I already know what they would say to me regardless.”

“Yes, the Archbishop suspected as such,” Camiel said. “Which is why I am here. She thought it might be easier for you to speak of whatever troubles you to someone neutral.” He put a hand over his heart. “Anything you say to me in this room is in complete confidence, Your Majesty. I will not utter a word to the Archbishop, nor to the queen, nor to any other soul. Everything will stay between us and the Goddess.”

There was a long stretch of silence as Dimitri continued to stare out the window in contemplation. Some tiny sparrows were perched on the ledge, chirping and flitting about. Camiel dragged one of the chairs from the table next to the bed and seated himself. He watched the birds as well, waiting patiently for Dimitri to either speak or dismiss him.

“I am no hero,” Dimitri finally said. He kept his gaze on the birds as he spoke. “I’d been tracking the battalion that sacked your village, but I arrived too late to protect it. When I saw the carnage they’d wrought, I made sure to kill every single Imperial soldier. I slaughtered them all without thought, without mercy.”

“In all likelihood, they would’ve gone on to raze other villages if you hadn’t killed them,” Camiel said. “I’m not saying it’s right or justified, Your Majesty, but there are no good choices in war. That is what makes it so tragic and ultimately senseless.”

“Yes,” Dimitri agreed. “I have spent my whole life trying to atone for those sins, for those monstrous actions I committed during the war.” He paused, slowly turning his head to face Camiel. “Yet now that I am nearing the end of my life, I find myself wondering…was it enough? Or was I fooling myself to think that I could ever earn forgiveness for such atrocities?”

Camiel tipped his head to the side, his eyebrows rising. It was truly shocking to him to hear the man known as the Savior King question if he’d done sufficient good for the world. “Your Majesty, I could list dozens of things you’ve done that have benefited the world, and that would only be from my limited perspective. Those more knowledgeable than I could surely cite dozens more.” At Dimitri’s frown, he paused and considered. “But that’s not what you’re asking. You’re asking whether or not atonement is possible in the first place, correct?”

Dimitri nodded. “For much of my life, I’ve been plagued by nightmares of the past: images from the Tragedy when my father was killed, recurring memories of the war and visions of the dead demanding retribution. But now I no longer dream of the past.” He curled his fingers into the bedcovers, his hand trembling. “Most nights, I have this same dream. I find myself within a labyrinth. There’s no logic to it; it’s both hot and cold, bright and dark at the same time. I can sometimes hear voices around me yet it’s also completely silent.” He licked his lips. “The one constant is that I am entirely alone in this place. I call out and no one answers. Shadows move, but nothing’s there. It’s all just…empty, and no matter which way I turn, I cannot escape it. I am trapped there, wandering for all eternity. It’s…” He swallowed. “It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever known, and that I keep seeing this place in my dreams makes me wonder if it is real, if this might be the ultimate fate the Goddess intends for me.”

He buried his face in his other hand, fighting back tears. Now that the words were out, the fear in his heart seemed that much more palpable, and it mixed with his shame of being so shaken from a dream, of all things. He expected Camiel to dismiss him as a deluded fool, or even sneer at him and walk away laughing.

“I see,” Camiel said softly. He paused, digesting this information, then he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Setting aside the war, do you have any regrets, Your Majesty?”

“Many,” Dimitri said through a slow breath. He fought to collect himself, grateful for the redirect to his thoughts. “I regret I could not formalize an alliance with Dagda, nor complete trade negotiations with Morfis. I couldn’t institute a universal public education system, or return every refugee from the war to their homesteads, or make it a certainty that no one in the kingdom ever goes hungry or spends a night in the cold. There were roads and bridges I wanted to build, universities and libraries I wanted to establish, lands I wanted to redistribute...there were so many things I wish I’d done, that I should have done. Things I would be doing if I weren’t…” He gestured at himself. “Old.”

Camiel smiled. “That is indeed a formidable list. But could you tell me about anything you do not regret?”

Dimitri blinked and for a second his mind went blank. Then his gaze fell to the ring on his finger and emotion flooded his chest like a tidal wave. “My wife,” he said. “I have made many mistakes and failed at many things in my life, but I would never regret having her at my side. Sometimes I still scarcely believe that she chose to marry me.” He smiled as the thought of Byleth, of her warmth, her patience, her gentleness. “She gifted me with four amazing children. I would never regret them either. They are all so talented, so kind and thoughtful, so capable and dedicated to helping others. I’m so proud of them.” A tear welled in his eye. “I do not regret throwing myself between my friend Dedue and a soldier’s sword all those years ago. I don’t regret knighting my friends Ashe and Ingrid, or supporting the school Dedue founded in Fhirdiad, or working with Sylvain in creating the Sreng accords. I don’t regret funneling money off the books to Yuri’s underground network. I can’t say I regret any of the things I did with or for my friends. They are all extraordinary people.” He looked up. “I do not regret saving you or your sister.”

Camiel’s smile widened. He set his hand atop Dimitri’s. “There is tremendous love in your heart, Your Majesty. You show it in your words and actions, in how deeply you care for the well being of all the people in your kingdom, as well as for your friends and family. I think your love is further reflected in the love that they have for you and the world. I’ve had the honor of working under both your wife and your daughter, and I spent a brief period working with your younger son when he was stationed here years ago. I agree that they are all wonderful people, and each of them, without fail, spoke affectionately of you.” He paused, his fingers closing around Dimitri’s hand. “I do not think I was mistaken in considering you my hero as a child, nor do I think I am mistaken to still consider you so now.”

Dimitri blushed. “Ah...thank you.”

“Your Majesty, I cannot say with certainty whether or not true atonement is possible,” Camiel said. “Nor can I tell you whether or not your vision is a portent of your ultimate fate. Such things are known only to the Goddess.” He patted Dimitri’s hand before leaning back in his chair. “However, I do know that the Book of Seiros says that the Goddess would never deny the splendor of love. When the time comes for you to depart this plane for the one beyond, I think you can stand before the Goddess secure in the knowledge that yours was a life well-lived.”

“A life well lived…” Dimitri repeated softly.

“Yes,” Camiel said. “To embrace this world with love in our hearts...I believe that is the true grace of the Goddess. Our bodies will inevitably become dust, but the love we give to the world lasts forever. It lives on in the works we do, in how we cared for this world and the people around us.”

Dimitri stared at his lap for several moments. “May I ask you something else?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“I know my time is dwindling; I feel it each morning in my bones. Yet my wife...she seems almost ageless.” Dimitri straightened his ring, the purple gems catching the light. His heart felt heavy, and his next words tasted acrid. “I am ashamed to confess that a part of me is relieved. The thought of losing her...the weight of that grief would be impossible to bear.” His breath hitched. “Yet that is what she will suffer when I am gone. I...I cannot make peace with that thought.”

Camiel nodded. “I have heard similar things from other couples, about the one who gets left behind. If love has any penalty, it is the pain it causes when death forces us apart.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have any better advice than to cherish the time you have left with her, Your Majesty. Perhaps the knowledge that your children will be there to support her could give you some solace. She will undoubtedly be lonely without you, but she will not be alone.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Dimitri sighed. His mouth turned up slightly at the corners. “Thank you, Camiel. You’ve been quite helpful.”

“You are most welcome.” Camiel smiled and bowed as he stood. “It was an honor to see you and speak with you, Your Majesty. If you have need of my council again, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Dimitri’s cheeks went a bit pink. “Before you go, would you mind retrieving my cane for me? It should be there in the wardrobe.”

“Certainly.” Camiel saw it immediately upon opening the doors. The weight of it surprised him when he picked it up, but he took a second to admire the craftsmanship.

“Thank you,” Dimitri said as he took his cane. “Much appreciated.”

“May the grace of Goddess be with you, Your Majesty.” Camiel bowed again and then left the room.

Dimitri sat still for a time as he ruminated over their conversation. He tried not to think about his recurring dream or his various regrets and failures, and focus instead on what he didn’t regret. His thoughts inevitably coalesced around Byleth, and he shed a few tears at the knowledge that he would leave her someday soon, how he did not want to, and how he wished there was a way for him to ease her pain from the beyond the grave.

He also wanted to do something meaningful for her, something to bring her joy and remind her of how much he loved and appreciated her. In the past, he might’ve taken her away for a private weekend in some remote place where she could fish and they could ride horses and make love all night, but that was no longer an option, and he once again cursed his frail body and all the limitations it imposed. He rolled his cane back and forth across his lap as he kept trying to think of something, anything, that might convey his sentiments.

“A life well lived…” he murmured to himself again. And then he got an idea.

Dimitri slowly rose from the bed, his body stiff but the pain of movement minimal. As he was still in his nightshirt, he pulled his robe from the wardrobe. It took a great deal of effort to get it on by himself, his arms reluctant to stretch outward and his legs unsteady whenever he let go of his cane. It took him several tries to tie the sash in an acceptable way, his stubbornness the only reason he conquered the task. He knew he still looked unkempt, but he was sufficiently presentable for where he was going.

Marie, seated on a chair just outside his door, startled when it swung open and he emerged. “Oh, Your Majesty!” She practically jumped to her feet. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up.”

“Do you know the whereabouts of the Archbishop?” he asked.

“The Archbishop?” Marie hesitated. Whenever he made that inquiry, it was near equal odds as to whether he was asking for Byleth or Nadia, given that he sometimes got their present titles mixed up. “At this time of day, she should still be in the audience chamber or her office. I’m not sure where the queen is presently.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri said with a nod, though he was a bit confused why she added that additional detail. He shuffled towards the elevator.

“Do you need any help, Your Majesty?” Marie asked.

He waved her off, since he wasn’t yet so decrepit that he couldn’t make it down one floor on his own. Nadia was indeed in the audience chamber, speaking with Fabian and one of her advisors, a few papers changing hands. The door was slightly ajar, and Dimitri knocked on it before fully entering. All eyes fell on him immediately, their expressions varying degrees of shocked.

“Father?” Nadia quickly moved towards him, taking his free arm. “What are you doing here?”

“Pardon my intrusion,” Dimitri said. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

“No, not at all,” she said. She tilted her head towards Fabian and then at the door, a silent communication passing between their eyes. Fabian nodded and scurried past them and out of the room. The advisor bowed to them both and followed after. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

“I’m well enough. Is there a place we can sit?”

“Of course.” She guided him into the advisory room and pulled out a chair for him. “What did you want?”

Dimitri groaned as he seated himself, taking a deep breath as his spine relaxed. He folded his hands atop his cane. “Firstly, I wish to thank you for sending Camiel to my room.”

Nadia smiled. “Was his visit helpful?”

“Yes, I believe so. He gave me much to consider, as well as some needed perspective.”

“I’m so glad.” She put her arms around his shoulders, giving him a sideways hug. “Mother will be glad to hear that too. She’s been so worried.”

He sighed. “Yes, it seems I am incapable of not causing her distress. Which is why I’m here. There is something I’d like to do for her, but I need your help.”

“Oh?” Nadia stepped back so they could be face to face. “What did you have in mind?”

“Her birthday is coming up, and I think we should celebrate it with everyone together,” Dimitri said. “The entire family: your brothers and sister, all of your children and grandchildren….it would be wonderful if they could all be here for her, if it’s possible.”

Nadia’s eyebrows went up. She scrutinized him for a second, trying to suss out why he’d make such a suggestion out of the blue. Something about his tone made her think this was about more than Byleth’s birthday. “What a lovely idea,” she said. She tapped a finger against her lips. “It could be difficult to coordinate, especially for Étienne. I think Isabeau had a long trip scheduled for sometime this fall too. But I think we have sufficient time to work it out. I’ll send letters to Étienne, Isabeau and Tristan right away and we’ll go from there.”

“I’m sorry to burden you with such a troublesome task,” he said.

“Not at all. I’m delighted you asked.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about a thing; I’ll take care of all of the arrangements. I’ll find a way to make this happen, even if I have to declare a new holy day for it.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, dearheart. This means a great deal to me, and it will to your mother as well.”

“Dimitri?” Byleth appeared in the doorway, a bit short of breath with her face flushed.

“Beloved.” His heart swelled with affection, but also guilt from the worry still visible in her eyes. He held out a hand towards her. She closed the distance between them in an instant, taking his hand, and he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m sorry for troubling you again.”

She trembled slightly as her arms encircled his shoulders, her body reflexively sinking against him. “I don’t care about that,” she said. “I just want you to feel better.”

Dimitri’s fingers dug into her hips with a desperate grip. He paused to breathe in her scent. There truly was nothing that made him feel more secure or at ease than when they were in each other’s arms. “My beloved...I don’t know why you’ve put up with me for all these years, but I am so grateful for it. I truly would be lost without you.”

Byleth kissed the top of his head, the knot in her chest uncoiling. He sounded like himself, like whatever was weighing on his mind had become less heavy. “It’s mutual,” she murmured. “It always has been.”

Her words were as painful as they were comforting. He pushed aside his darker thoughts and smiled as he drew back from her. The worry had left her eyes, and that was enough for now. “Nadia and I were just discussing your birthday.”

“My birthday?” Byleth tipped her head in surprise. “It’s still months away.”

“Father made a wonderful suggestion,” Nadia said. “He thinks we should have a big gathering with the whole family to celebrate.”

“The whole family?” Byleth looked between them. “That will be a lot of people. It could be hard to organize. Is there even enough space for all of them?”

“A few of us might have to double up on rooms, depending on who needs to stay overnight or longer,” Nadia said. “Perhaps some of the smaller children can sleep on mattresses on the floor if need be.”

“Nadia was kind enough to take charge of coordinating things,” Dimitri said. “It’s been far too long since everyone was last gathered together; I think we’ve gained several great-grandchildren since then.”

“I think you’re right,” Byleth said. She gave Dimitri a skeptical look. A crowd that large was inherently exhausting, much moreso compared to their class reunion. “Still...are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “It will be your ninetieth birthday, after all. That’s quite a milestone, isn’t it?” He kissed her hand. “You deserve to be celebrated, beloved. Please, let us do this for you.”

Byleth’s face warmed. There was that familiar charm, and she was just as much a sucker for it now as she’d been when they were newlyweds. “Assuming it can be arranged, it would be wonderful to see everyone.”

“I have my ways of making these things work out,” Nadia said with a confident smile. “I learned from some of the best, after all. I’ll keep you both posted on things as they develop.” She made a waving motion with her hand. “Now I need to kick you out so I can write and send my letters before day’s end.”

Dimitri chuckled. He took a deep breath before rising from his seat. “Then we shall take our leave. Would you escort me back to my room, beloved? And perhaps join me for a light repast?”

Byleth smiled, more relief sweeping through her. She took his arm. “Yes, gladly.” She flashed a grateful look at Nadia and mouthed the words ‘thank you’ as they headed towards the exit. Nadia smiled and nodded in return.

Chapter Text

Dimitri was possibly more excited about Byleth’s birthday than she was, especially as the plans gradually fell into place. True to her word, Nadia got right to work on making arrangements, even disguising her letters to her siblings as official church missives to ensure quicker delivery. It was no surprise when Étienne’s response came in the form of a royal missive; Dimitri and Byleth had occasionally abused that system to exchange personal letters when they were apart for long periods, so of course their children took the same liberties.

“It appears Étienne has a conference in Duval with the western lords scheduled over your birthday, Mother,” Nadia said. “However, he says he will still attend the party.”

“Really?” Byleth asked. Even after decades of peace, the western lords were still notoriously onerous in their demands, sometimes just for the sake of it.

Nadia smiled. “He says, and I quote, ‘I will not allow any of those halfwits to prevent me from attending an event honoring our mother, even if only for a short time. If need be, I will remind them that it was by our parents’ graces that none of their houses were outright dissolved after the war, and if that is insufficient, I will tell them you are en route to our conference with Areadbhar in hand.’”

Dimitri laughed. “A bit dramatic of him, perhaps, but I think that will prove effective.”

“Which option?” Nadia asked.

“Either,” he replied. “If there’s one thing I know about the west, they are quick to fold if they think they might anger both the church and the crown. I think that would extend to personal matters in this case.”

“He says he’ll inform his girls himself, so that’s off my checklist,” Nadia said. “Isabeau says she and her family will attend, as expected. She has a meeting with Duke Aegir that will necessitate her leaving the day after the party, but she plans to circle back here afterwards. She says she might possibly stay until the Red Wolf Moon, when parliament goes back into session.”

Byleth smiled. They hadn’t seen either Étienne or Isabeau since she and Dimitri left Fhirdiad last fall. “That’s wonderful.”

“Any word from Tristan?” Dimitri asked. It’d been even longer, almost three years now, since they’d last seen him because he currently lived so far away.

“None yet,” Nadia said. “It’ll take a bit longer for a message to travel to and from Enbarr, but you know how he is anyway.” She folded her arms, shaking her head fondly. “He may not bother with a response and simply show up here in a few weeks.”

“True,” Byleth said. Tristan had a tendency to overlook etiquette or protocol when he was focused on a task. Any excuse to travel would be irresistible to him however, so it was a safe bet he’d attend the party unless something dire happened. “You should contact his sons. He might not remember to tell them.”

“Already done,” Nadia said. “I’ve got letters out to my children too, as well as Philippe.” She smiled. “It seems things are already taking shape. This will be a grand event!”

Byleth smiled back. She could already feel her anticipation building. “I’m glad.”

“Philippe…” Dimitri murmured to himself, remembering the great-great grandchild soon to be born. For that reason alone, it was unlikely they would come to the party, so he wouldn’t get his hopes up about seeing the baby.

Still, the knowledge that at minimum all of his children would attend was enough to spur Dimitri’s resolve. Byleth would have a wonderful birthday, and he’d do what he could to allay her worries about him until then. He focused on thoughts about the party whenever his dark moods hit, he spent time outside of his room each day and enjoyed the warm summer sun with her, and he tried to eat more in order to bolster his strength. The latter was challenging given that most foods just didn’t appeal to him these days, and eating itself was unpleasant. His teeth felt fine, but the act of chewing was cumbersome, requiring far more effort and conscious thought than it used to, and it made him paranoid about choking. He was too ashamed and afraid of causing undue concern to explain that to Byleth whenever she tried to get him to eat something other than soup or soft foods.

He couldn’t control his dreams of the labyrinth, which continued to plague him nearly every night. The vision was getting more vivid; he could feel the pressure of the walls when the passages narrowed and he had to squeeze through tight restrictions, as well as the way vines and roots coiled around his limbs to impede his progress. He could smell the musty, damp air and the vague odor of rot and death mixed with it. He could hear his blood pound in his veins as he wandered and wandered through the maze, trying to escape or even just find something other than more walls and dead ends. Sometimes he wound up trapped in corners, the maze sealing up behind him until he was boxed in, and the walls would start closing in, threatening to crush him. He’d beat on the walls with his fists until they turned to rubble, but that was still not enough to escape the eternally twisting web of tunnels.

One night, he found a door inside the labyrinth. It opened up into the cathedral where hundreds of people had gathered, filling every pew to capacity. They were all wispy and translucent like ghosts, the dirge they sang a wailing of souls that was much too familiar to him. The flames of thousands of candles danced on their wicks, casting an eerie glow on everything. No one acknowledged him as he slowly walked down the center aisle towards the pulpit. A cold feeling crept over him, a sense of dread that despite their indifference, the crowd had been expecting him.

Resting in front of the pulpit was a coffin bedecked in white lilies. It glowed with a faint light, drawing him like a beacon. A faceless priest stared at him when he stopped before it, making a motion to indicate he should open it. The crowd started a whispered chant encouraging him to do the same. The box felt solid under his hands, as real as anything in the waking world, and he heard the hinge creak as he lifted the lid.

Byleth laid inside, pristine and perfect and dead. Dimitri froze, eyes glued to her lifeless corpse. No, this was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to go first! He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, shouting her name, begging her to open her eyes, but she remained cold and limp in his hands. The crowd laughed at his misery as the flames on the candles exploded into a roaring conflagration and began to consume everything around him.

The ground suddenly disappeared from underneath him and he was falling, falling, falling…

He hit the floor of his bedroom with a gasp, the air punched out of his lungs and a sharp pain shooting from his coccyx to the top of his spine and down to his toes. He laid there stunned for a moment, the dark room looking no different than the dim cathedral, the dirge and the laughter still echoing in his ears and the image of the coffin still painted on his cornea.

“N-no…” he wheezed, his body trembling. He was in too much pain and too disoriented to try and raise himself off the floor. All he could do was curl into himself as he fell into heaving, breathless sobs. He’d finally escaped the labyrinth only to find his beloved was dead! Dead and gone forever and he hadn’t been there for her and now he was truly alone and trapped forever in a dark abyss.

“Your Majesty?” His night nurse entered the room, gasping when she saw him on the floor. She knelt beside him, wanting to asses him but wary of touching him when he was visibly distraught. She called out to the hallway for assistance.

“She’s dead!” Dimitri wailed. “Oh Goddess...why? Why?!”

Nadia and Fabian, in the process of retiring for the night, heard the commotion and came running. “Father?” Nadia knelt beside the cleric. “Father, what happened?” He didn’t acknowledge her and kept repeating the same words through his sobs.

“I heard a crash and I found him like this,” the nurse said. She stood to go light a lamp so everyone could see better.

“Go wake Mother,” Nadia said to her husband. Fabian nodded and jogged down the hall. She braced herself as she maneuvered Dimitri so she could bring his eye to meet hers. Her own Crest of Blaiddyd made it unlikely he could hurt her if he lashed out, but he didn’t fight or react to her touch, too lost in despair to be concerned with whether or not there was a threat. His gaze was glassy and unfocused as tears ran down his cheeks. “Father? Father it’s me...it’s Nadia.”

As soft lamplight illuminated the room, her face gradually clarified in his vision, making the dream world, if not the dream itself, fade away. “N-Nadia…?”

She nodded, exhaling in relief. She cupped his face in both of her hands. “Yes. It’s OK, Father. You’re safe.”

“No…” Dimitri sobbed. “She’s dead...your mother’s dead!”

“What?” Nadia blinked, her thoughts sputtering. “No, she’s fine. You were having a nightmare.”

“A nightmare…?” He shook his head, his sense of what was real and what was not still fuzzy. “No...I saw her...in the cathedral! She was…”

“Dimitri?” Byleth appeared in the door, her hair disheveled and her eyes still partly glazed from sleep.

He gasped, craning his neck towards her voice. His first instinct was that she had to be a ghost, a hallucination brought on by his grief, but he wanted so badly for her to be real that he reached for her despite his fears. It was hard to bend when she was stiff from her abrupt awakening, but Byleth managed to stoop enough to take his hand. He startled at the initial contact, then his fingers clamped around her wrist hard enough to bruise.

“B-beloved…?”

“I’m here,” Byleth said.

Dimitri dissolved into sobs of relief. Nadia, Fabian and the cleric carefully helped him up, and as soon as he was off the floor, he threw his arms around Byleth and clung to her despite his poor balance. The others guided him to sit on his bed lest he topple over, and she then wrapped her arms around him in return.

“Thank the Goddess,” he wept, his voice and body still trembling. Despite his awkward position, the cleric was able to check him over, finding no injuries, and he then felt healing magic wash over him. Its effects paled in comparison to having Byleth alive and in his arms.

“Shh...it’s OK,” Byleth soothed, petting his hair. She didn’t need to ask what his nightmare was about; his reaction told her it was something awful even compared to the usual intensity of his terrors. Nadia nonetheless whispered in her ear what he’d said and Byleth’s eyes widened, her heart cracking, because she could see herself being similarly upset if she’d had a vivid dream like that about him. She clenched her arms tighter around him. “It was just a dream.”

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri whimpered, shame beginning to override his relief. He really was a useless old man, causing such a ruckus in the middle of the night over a dream. He was more troublesome than a child.

“It’s not your fault,” Byleth said. “We’re just glad you’re OK.”

“Yes,” Nadia agreed. “Is there anything you need? Anything to help you get back to sleep?”

He shook his head. “Thank you, dearheart. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“In terms of timing, you were impeccable, Your Majesty,” Fabian said. “We hadn’t yet gone to bed, so there’s no cause for you to feel guilty.”

Dimitri gave an awkward half chuckle in response, not knowing what else to do. Nadia kissed his cheek and she and Fabian left the room, along with the cleric. Byleth helped him back into bed. Though it made the process more difficult, he couldn’t bear to let go of her hand.

“Can you stay?” he asked, tugging her down to lie beside him.

“Of course,” Byleth said. “I’ll wait until you’re asleep.”

“I meant...can you stay the night?” Dimitri asked. The shame boiled within him; he couldn’t stand the thought of possibly hitting her in his sleep, but having her here was the only thing he knew would prevent that part of his nightmare from recurring.

Her eyebrows went up. “Are you sure?”

“Just for tonight,” he said. “I...I don’t want to risk hurting you, but…” He gave her hand a squeeze, a tremor going through his arm.

Byleth pulled back the covers and snuggled in beside him. He made it sound like an imposition or a risk, but it made her happy. It’d been so long since they’d last shared a bed and she missed it so much. She kissed a line along his mouth and chin, smiling.

Dimitri sighed as he wrapped his arms around her again, the tension in his body uncoiling. “Thank you, beloved.”

“Go to sleep,” she said. “I’ll stay right here. I promise.”

It ultimately proved a temporary reprieve, but for several nights after, he did not dream of the labyrinth.

*****

On the first day of the Horsebow Moon, Nadia’s prediction came true as Tristan and his wife arrived at Garreg Mach out of the blue, drifting in like two fall leaves carried by the wind. Tristan was a renowned bishop, having worked his way up through the ranks. He’d spent his adult life traveling all across Fódlan helping to reestablish destroyed outposts of the church as well as create new ones. He was shorter and more lithely built compared to his older siblings, with androgynous facial features and large indigo eyes. His blonde hair grew in flat and straight and he kept it in a long braid, which often led people to mistake him for a woman at first. Like his mother, he had a calm and measured mien and was a good listener, but his stoic outside belied his passion. He was a fierce advocate for the poor and the needy and could deliver a fiery sermon when given the opportunity, nor was he afraid to call out unscrupulous people to their faces. It made him something of a controversial figure among the nobility, but endeared him to his parishioners no matter where he went.

His wife, Cleo, was also a bishop now, though they’d met and married when they were both of lower rank. She was distantly related to House Daphnel but was considered a commoner, and she shared a similar passion for advocating for the poor. Their four sons, now all grown, had each been born in a different part of the continent due to how much they moved around. Tristan had been stationed in Enbarr for the last seven years, overseeing the operation of the new cathedral there, but his wanderlust had set in and he’d asked Nadia to consider reassigning him elsewhere several times. He was happiest when he could do hands on work helping people who were the most in need, and his willingness to live in humble surroundings made it easy for others to forget he came from royalty.

He eschewed having himself announced in any way and simply showed up by the pond in the afternoon just as Byleth and Dimitri were finishing their lunch. His approach was so unassuming that they didn’t notice he was there until he spoke. “Hello, Mother, Father,” he said with a little wave.

They both startled, gaping at the sight of their son, before smiling and rising to greet him. Dimitri immediately pulled him into a one-armed hug. “This is quite unexpected!” he exclaimed.

Tristan let out an amused huff. “Is it? Nadia’s letter said this party was your idea.”

“I meant so early,” Dimitri said. “And you never responded to her letter.”

Tristan shrugged. He had to wiggle slightly in order to pull back from his father’s embrace. “I would’ve if I couldn’t come. It felt unnecessary otherwise.” Though his expression didn’t change, a glint of worry flickered in his eyes as he looked at Dimitri. “Are you well?”

“Well enough,” Dimitri replied. He smiled. “Better now. It’s been too long since we last saw you.” He nodded at Cleo, who was standing a few steps behind them. “And you as well, Cleo.”

She bowed, her red hair falling across her face. “It’s good to see you too, Your Majesties. I’m glad to see you both remain in good health.” Cleo was demure and quiet by nature, not one to interrupt or make her presence known until acknowledged. She reminded Byleth of Marianne, a gentle soul with a surprisingly strong will behind her shyness. “Shall I inform the Archbishop that we’ve arrived?”

“Please,” Tristan said with a nod. Cleo nodded in return and left. His lip twitched as he turned back to his parents. “I hope Nadia won’t mind I’m early.”

“She won’t,” Byleth said. She cupped his face in both hands, smiling, and gently tugged him to duck so she could kiss his forehead. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” The three of them migrated back to the table and Tristan pulled up an extra chair to sit with them.

“How are things in Enbarr?” Dimitri asked.

“The new food pantry is finished,” Tristan said. He frowned. “It shouldn’t have taken three years. All the nobles kept pissing about it being close to the cathedral, afraid they might see a beggar.”

His parents both frowned in agreement, well acquainted with that kind of battle. “But it’s open now?” Byleth asked.

Tristan nodded. “It’s going well so far, but we need more. Cleo’s been working to secure further funding for it. I found a restaurant willing to donate their leftovers too.” He sighed. “Most of my parishioners have more than they’ll ever need, yet they hoard their gold. In my last sermon before we left, I reminded them they can’t take their money to the afterlife.” He smiled faintly. “A lot of them looked mad.”

Dimitri smiled. He was immensely proud his son remained so resolute in his convictions. Byleth, however, arced an eyebrow. She knew Tristan’s rhetoric sometimes alienated the very people he needed to persuade. “Be careful you don’t burn all your bridges,” she said.

“I know, Mother,” he said. An impish look appeared in his eyes. “Though if I do, maybe Nadia will finally reassign me.”

Nadia overheard him as she approached and she bit back a frustrated sigh. “I have explained to you dozens of times why I need you in Enbarr,” she said. “You may not believe it, but you’re doing important work there, as evidenced by your success with the food pantry and that new clinic. You’ve accomplished more in seven years than your predecessor did in over twice that span.”

Tristan’s lips twitched again. He stood, tipping his neck upwards to meet her eyes with a piercing gaze. “I did not join the church to be a politician,” he said.

“Clergy or no, you’re still a member of the royal family,” Nadia said as she glared down at him. “It gives your words much more weight with the nobility compared to any other bishop in my employ. You may not like it, but that’s how it is.”

“So you admit my lineage is why you won’t reassign me?” Tristan accused, folding his arms.

Nadia frowned. “It’s because you’re the most qualified and capable and I trust your abilities to see these difficult tasks through!”

Dimitri covered his mouth with his hand as he held back laughter. This may as well have been a scene at their dinner table decades ago when his children were small and quarreled about things like who had gotten better marks from their tutor. He looked to Byleth, who was trying not to grin herself.

“Children,” she said in her firmest professor voice. Their argument stopped cold and for a second they looked like deer in a hunter’s sight as they turned to her. Pink encroached on their faces. Byleth tipped her head, saying with her eyes what she expected.

Nadia took a deep breath. “It’s good to see you, brother,” she said with a sincere smile.

Tristan couldn’t completely smother an annoyed huff, but he did unfold his arms. “You as well, sister.”

“I’m glad you came for an extended stay too, since it’s been so long since we’ve last seen you,” Nadia added. “It will also give us ample opportunity to have an earnest discussion about this topic, but I would prefer we do so after the party.”

That was enough to placate him and his lips curled upwards at the corners. “All right.”

Dimitri smiled. “We should all have dinner together tonight. Cleo and Fabian too.”

“Agreed,” Nadia said. “I’ll arrange for it upstairs so we can have some privacy.” She tapped her brother’s shoulder. “I sent someone with Cleo to help with your luggage. Why don’t you go get settled?”

“Thank you,” Tristan replied. He nodded at her and their parents. “See you at dinner.”

Nadia sighed to herself when he was out of earshot. “Please pardon my poor conduct. I overheard his remark and lost all sense of propriety.”

“Nothing we haven’t heard before,” Byleth said. “Or that I haven’t dealt with.” Tristan used to complain about his assignments to her back in the day too. In hindsight, she might’ve been too permissive in granting his requests for transfer when he inevitably started butting heads with the local authorities. She’d also indulged his wishes to stay in outlying villages instead of big cities more often than not, with the exception of an extended post he’d had in Derdriu many years ago.

“Maybe you could talk to him, Mother?” Nadia asked hopefully.

“I’m no longer the Archbishop,” Byleth replied firmly. “And I’m not taking sides.”

“This is not my domain either,” Dimitri said. “However, you might give his perspective more consideration. It has been seven years; perhaps a change of scenery is in order?”

Nadia’s placid expression shifted into a barely visible pout. “I’ll take that under advisement.” She rubbed her temple with another sigh. “The longer I do this job, the more I admire how you both managed to balance the professional and the personal.”

Byleth and Dimitri smiled. “Patience and communication are key,” she said.

“I regret to tell you that part never gets easier,” he added. “But I’m sure you can both come to an agreement in time.”

It was nice having another of their children around for company, a refreshing novelty that wasn’t overwhelming. Tristan and Cleo joined them for most meals even as they kept themselves busy helping out around the monastery. Each of them were invited to host seminars for the Academy students, and Nadia allowed Tristan to lead the regular service at the cathedral once. He kept his sermon light, since the audience was mostly students and wayfarers, but he emphasized the importance of helping others and spreading good in the world through small acts of kindness. He also took time to tutor students one on one who sought additional help with learning faith magic or who needed a sympathetic ear to listen to their troubles.

A week before the party, Isabeau arrived with her husband and her teenage son and daughter. Her presence sparked a particular joy. As both their youngest and an unexpected blessing born eight years after Tristan, it’d always been a struggle to not dote on her. She’d been clingy as a child, always wanting to be held, to the point where she’d often demanded to sit in her parents’ laps during long meetings despite how boring the meetings were for her. She’d been the one whom had most often come into their bedroom during the night and crawled between them. As a teenager, she’d eschewed going to the Officer’s Academy like her siblings and chosen to study at the School of Sorcery to stay close to home. Even after she’d married and been made the new Grand Duchess of Itha, she’d continued to visit Fhirdiad as often as she could, and she constantly wrote letters when she was away.

She was also their child who most resembled her mother, with a heart-shaped face, large expressive eyes, short stature, and the same teal hair Byleth had had in her youth, which she typically wore in a partial bun with the rest of it flowing long and loose. Her cornflower blue eyes, however, were unmistakably her father’s, and she had inherited his laugh and many of his mannerisms as well. Dimitri called her ‘starshine’ because her presence always lit up a room.

Her husband, Geraint, was a former knight of House Blaiddyd, one who was born a commoner and whom had served as her personal guard for a time. Their courtship lent them the air of a princess and a devoted knight pulled straight from a storybook. They were beloved by the people in Itha and beyond, and Isabeau’s natural charisma made her one of Étienne’s most effective political allies.

Her children descended on Dimitri and Byleth with cheerful whoops and crushing hugs. Isabeau had to shoo them aside in order to get her chance to embrace her father. She clung to him for a long moment. Dimitri nuzzled against the top of her head as he held her close.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

“I’ve missed you too, Papa,” she said. She rolled onto her toes to kiss his cheek as she pulled away. “Are you well? You look thin.”

Dimitri chuckled. “Are you and your mother conspiring again? She’s always on my case about my appetite these days.”

“I may have made a mention in a letter or two,” Byleth deferred. She pulled Isabeau into a hug, kissing her temple. “Thank you for coming.”

“A pack of dire wolves couldn’t have kept me away,” Isabeau said. “We would’ve come sooner but I had some things to settle in Itha first, since I will be away for awhile. Geraint still gets nervous when he’s in charge.”

Geraint’s polite smile wobbled, a bit of red coloring his face. He was tall and handsome, with dark brown hair specked with a few gray streaks. He kept it and his beard neatly trimmed, but his bangs were a bit too long and prone to falling over his eyes. He still presented himself like a knight, with a rigid posture and an ornamental sword prominent on his hip.

“You wound me, darling,” he said. “I am but your dutiful apprentice, and I defer to your expertise.”

She laughed, the sound like a tinkling bell. “Apprentice, he says. You’re too humble for your own good, my love.” She gestured with her hands. “You should’ve seen how ably he handled our recent conference with Fraldarius. He held his ground so well, Govan’s face turned beet red at one point and I think he came this close to challenging Geraint to a duel.”

Dimitri chuckled. While overall more reserved than Felix, Govan still had a bit of his father’s temper in him. “It is indeed no small feat to stand up to the Duke Fraldarius. I’m sure Étienne would agree.”

Geraint’s blush deepened. “Ah, my wife gives me too much credit. As usual, she was the one who smoothed things out before we came to blows.” He bowed. “Regardless, it is wonderful to see you again, Your Majesties. It isn’t the same visiting Fhirdiad without you there.”

“We’ve missed you, Grandma and Grandpa!” their children chorused. They started babbling about various things they’d seen and done over the last year, talking over each other so badly that it was difficult to follow their words. Byleth and Dimitri nodded along and humored them as best they could until Isabeau shushed them and sent them with Geraint to get settled in their quarters. They ran into Nadia and Tristan in the process, and the kids had to spend several moments hugging their aunt and uncle and chatting at them before Geraint finally led them away.

“My!” Nadia said with a smile. “I suspected all the commotion meant you’d arrived. Good to see you and your family are as lively as ever, sister.”

Isabeau grinned and proceeded to pounce on both of them. She gave Tristan an especially lengthy hug. “It’s been far too long, brother! I’ve missed you so much!”

Tristan patted her head as they parted. “It’s good to see you too, Isabeau.”

“I want to hear everything about what you’ve been up to in Enbarr,” Isabeau said. She wagged a finger at him. “And I don’t mean the vague generalities you write in you letters.”

“Yes, yes,” he said with an affectionate sigh and a slight roll of his eyes. “It’s not terribly exciting.”

“He’s selling his accomplishments short again,” Nadia said. “I’ll supply you with the full list if he refuses to be up front with you.”

Tristan blushed faintly, but his mouth still turned down at the corners. “Flattery won’t help your case,” he muttered.

“I know!” Nadia clasped her hands together. “Perhaps you can serve as mediator while Tristan and I discuss his future at his post. I’m sure you can help him see reason. He listens to you.”

Tristan frowned at her. “I’m not the one who’s being overly stubborn.” Nadia gave him a subtle but frosty glare in response.

Isabeau frowned as she looked between the two of them. “Are you still arguing about that? What am I to do with you two?”

Byleth smiled. “That’s a good idea, if you’re willing.”

“I’ll think about it,” Isabeau said. She folded her arms. “Pity Étienne won’t be able to stay long enough to assist me. He’d likely appreciate it as practice for his next overseas trip.”

“Surely you are not implying that talking with us is akin to negotiating a treaty?” Nadia asked, looking vaguely shocked.

“I’m not implying anything, sister,” Isabeau said with a too-sweet smile. She patted their shoulders. “I take pride in maintaining the peace, whether it’s in Fódlan or within my family.”

Dimitri chuckled as both of her siblings looked abashed. He gripped Byleth’s hand as they exchanged a fond look, one that was a little nostalgic but mostly just happy that their children continued to trust and rely on each other even as adults.

Over the next few days, the adult grandchildren and their families trickled in, and the guest rooms at the monastery were soon all full. From a quick headcount, it appeared everyone barring Étienne and his wife had arrived by the day before the party, with the one notable exception being Nadia’s grandson Philippe and his wife and new baby. Dimitri’s heart swelled at the turnout, happy beyond words to see that everyone had made the journey to celebrate Byleth’s birthday. To celebrate Byleth. It far surpassed even his most optimistic hopes.

The pieces were all in place for her to have a wonderful, memorable birthday. A day where she would plainly see how much she was loved and appreciated by every generation of their family, the family they had built together. He was simultaneously eager and anxious about how it would all turn out.

Yet on the morning of the party, Dimitri’s first thought was that he didn’t want to get out of bed. He was tired despite sleeping well by his standards, all of his joints ached, his head throbbed, and his mind was fuzzy, like every thought had to wade through molasses before it registered. Byleth and Isabeau came together to greet him and help him get ready for the day, and he did his best to smile and act enthused about the party, but he wasn’t sure how convincing his performance was. He wanted more than anything for Byleth to enjoy herself today and not have to fret over him for a change, so he clawed for every bit of kingly resolve he could find to force his body into compliance.

His mask slipped when he tried to move himself to the edge of the bed. Every part of his body angrily protested, his limbs refusing to work properly, and he flopped back against the pillows, panting from the strain.

“Dimitri?” Byleth put a hand to his face to check for a fever, worry in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“S-sorry…” he said as he caught his breath. “Just...feeling a bit more stiff than usual this morning.” He forced a smile. “Pity it would happen today of all days.”

“Wait here. I’ll get Marie.” Byleth scurried out the door.

Isabeau’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I’ll be fine.” He sighed, mostly out of frustration with his body.

“Papa.” Isabeau sat on the bed and took his hand. She gently massaged the swollen joints in his fingers. “It’s OK if you’re not up for the party. Everyone will understand.”

“No.” Dimitri’s eye blazed. “This is too important.”

“Mom wouldn’t want you to push yourself for her sake,” Isabeau said. “I’ll tell her for you if it’s easier.”

He shook his head. “Isabeau, please…” He swallowed. “I need to do this for her. Do you understand?”

She pursed her lips but nodded. “In that case, I’ll stick close to you today. That way if you need anything, you can just ask me.” She passed a heal spell to him and saw the lines on his forehead smooth. “Including that, OK?”

Dimitri squeezed her hand with a grateful sigh. “Thank you, starshine. I knew I could count on you.”

After a hefty dose of Marie’s magic, Dimitri was able to exit his bed and help dress himself. No one was getting too fancied up today, but Byleth wore her favorite dark blue gown; it had the simple silhouette of a nun’s dress but also had gold embroidery on the bodice and along the hems in a classic Faerghus pattern. Dimitri wore one of his basic dress coats, suitable for a typical day at court. It was royal blue of course, trimmed with a bit of white fur around the collar and gold brocade along the sleeves and placket, but he chose not to wear a mantle with it, the weight of one proving a bit too much for his shoulders.

He walked to the elevator without issue, albeit slowly. He ignored how the pain in his lower back and knees resurfaced on the way down, making the trek to the gazebo even slower and more difficult. The whole area was festooned with colorful ribbons and many bouquets and wreaths of flowers. A banner that said ‘Happy 90th Birthday!’ was hung across the front of the gazebo. There were several long tables with white cloths set up on the green space surrounding the gazebo. They were already piled with food, drinks and utensils, and there was a smaller, round table to one side where the cake was displayed. It was four tiers tall and decorated with pale green frosting and lots of scallops of white icing and pink frosting rosettes. A number ninety made of pink candy stood at the apex of the cake, but there were no candles. Byleth had requested as such as she feared someone would actually ask her to blow out ninety candles, and she doubted she could’ve done so even when she was young.

Many chairs were scattered around the area for guests to use as needed, but a pair of oversized white wicker chairs with high backs and soft blue cushions were conspicuously positioned under the gazebo. Their shape and placement made them resemble a pair of thrones, and Nadia directed her parents to them when she spotted them. “For the guests of honor,” she said.

“I was unaware it was my birthday too,” Dimitri said. Byleth gave him a playful nudge as they seated themselves.

“As if you wouldn’t have me at your side if this were your party,” she pointed out.

“The two of you have always come as a matched set,” Nadia said with a smile. “None of us could imagine anything else.”

“Just so,” Isabeau agreed.

Byleth hugged Dimitri’s arm and leaned against his shoulder, warmth blooming in her chest at the sentiment. Dimitri forced a smile that he hoped was convincing as he kissed the top of her head, pushing down the disquiet within him. This day had to go perfectly, so it was imperative that he keep his emotions in check, at least when there were eyes on him.

The in-laws, grandchildren and great-grandchildren gradually filtered into the area. The festivities couldn’t truly begin until the last guests arrived, but drinks were passed around in anticipation of their inevitable appearance. It wasn’t long after the whole family had finished gathering when a knight came forth to announce the approach of Étienne’s royal entourage.

“Fashionably late as always,” Tristan noted dryly.

Étienne traveled as inconspicuously as possible considering his position, with only a few guards and attendants accompanying him and his wife. He swept into the green space with a big smile and a notable eagerness in his steps. He was built like a Blaiddyd man, with a broad chest and shoulders, but he wasn’t quite as tall as his father or Nadia and his facial features were slightly rounder. His hair was also more of a sandy color rather than a true blonde, and he had Byleth’s original indigo eyes. In his youth, he’d kept his hair chopped short, but now he’d let it grow out along with his beard, and both sported several small braids in a style traditional for Duscur men. He’d lived there for several years as a diplomat in residence after the reconciliation, and that was when he’d fallen in love with his wife, Sira, with whom he had two grown daughters and currently three grandchildren with another on the way.

Sira’s parents had been instrumental in helping forge the new alliance between Faerghus and Duscur after Dimitri took the throne. Her father had also been among the Duscur warriors whom had protected Dedue after he’d helped Dimitri escape from Cornelia, and thanks to Dedue’s recommendation, he’d served as governor of Duscur after it gained independence. Sira had worked closely with Étienne while he’d lived in Duscur and their relationship had developed from there. She was not trained as a warrior, being more interested in history and linguistics, but she could handle a lance, and according to Étienne, he’d fallen for her after she’d bested him in a duel.

Dimitri had long suspected that the nobles whom had objected to Étienne inheriting the throne had used his Crest of Seiros as a pretext when their true objection was having a queen from Duscur. No one had ever said as such, but the way Sira still got side-eyed by some at court was telling. But Étienne and Sira’s unlikely courtship and marriage was a powerful symbol of how much Faerghus had changed since the Tragedy, and it was met with much rejoicing in Duscur and large swaths of the Kingdom too. Dedue had attended the weddings of all of Dimitri and Byleth’s children, but Étienne’s was the only one where he’d shed tears.

They were both bedecked in Faerghus blue, with Étienne also bearing a familiar looking cloak trimmed in black and white fur and Sira’s dress complimented by a wide sash sewn in a traditional Duscur pattern. All eyes fell on them and the crowd cheered their entrance. Nadia was the first to reach them and embrace them, closely followed by Isabeau. Tristan lingered a bit behind his sisters, his smile genuine but stiff.

“It’s good to see you, brother,” Nadia said. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I only wish it were for longer,” he said as he kissed her cheek. “The western lords were generous enough to grant me a brief reprieve from our conference. I almost wish I’d had to issue my threat about you and Areadbhar; they might’ve agreed to a longer recess.”

“How long can you stay?” Tristan asked.

Étienne’s eyes lit up. He proceeded to slap his brother so hard on the back that Tristan grunted and stumbled. “I feel as though it’s been a dog’s age since I last saw you, brother! How goes your proselytizing? How many more enemies have you made in Enbarr since we last spoke?”

“You never change,” Tristan said with a fond sigh as he rubbed his shoulder. “I am not ‘making enemies.’ It’s not my fault if some people are uncomfortable with the truth.”

“And I’ll bet you’re still grousing to Nadia about your post,” Étienne said. He glanced at his sisters, who both nodded, and chuckled. “What a shame we don’t have more time to catch up, but we can only stay through the afternoon. As it is, we’ll have to travel through the night to make it back on schedule.”

Byleth smiled despite feeling a bit guilty. Clearly, attending this event was an imposition to him, but of course he’d come anyway. He was so much like his father in that regard. “Thank you for coming.” She stood up to embrace him and he gave her an especially tight hug and kissed her cheek.

“Happy birthday, Mother,” he said. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” Dimitri started to rise, but Étienne held up a hand to stop him. He bent over and gripped his father’s hand instead. “And of course it’s wonderful to see you, Father. Are you well?”

Dimitri smiled. “Having you here is yet another blessing on this wonderful day.”

Sira made a deep curtsy. “Your Majesties.” She recited a greeting in Duscur as she straightened, her smile more in her eyes than on her lips. Dimitri nodded in acknowledgment while Byleth gently shook her hand before seating herself again.

Étienne surveyed the large crowd. “Wow, it looks like practically everyone came.” He gestured with his arm to all the smiling faces. “Truly, this is a glorious sight!”

“Indeed it is.” Nadia handed him a glass. “Now that you’re here, would you kindly lead us in a toast?”

Étienne blanched, but he quickly recovered. “I...yes. It would be my honor.” He cleared his throat and raised his glass. “A toast to our beloved mother and her continued good health. I think I speak for all of us here when I say how grateful we are to have you as our family’s matriarch.” He gestured to the crowd again. “It’s literally true that none of us would be here if not for you, but it is more than just our blood connection that brought us to this place today. You are our guiding star, always pushing us to be our best selves and to follow our hearts. Your love is sometimes soft and other times firm, but it is always warm and unwavering. You encourage our dreams while still reminding us of our responsibilities to the greater world and to each other. Your calm, steadfast determination is a constant support and comfort that has allowed us to become the people we are.” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m sure my siblings all agree that we feel blessed to have you for a mother. We thank you for everything you’ve done for us throughout our lives. Never forget that we love you with all of our hearts.”

“Hear, hear!” his siblings agreed.

The crowd applauded. Byleth’s face was bright red and her vision blurry until she blinked it clear. She found all she could do was shyly smile and duck her head as she muttered a thank you. Even after all her years as Archbishop, speaking extemporaneously remained a struggle. She’d always counted on Dimitri to do it on her behalf whenever possible.

Fortunately, their son was aware of that weakness and covered for it. “Do you have anything you wish to add, Father?” Étienne asked as he wiped his eyes.

Dimitri swallowed; there were plenty of things he could say, but mere words could never capture the true depths of his love and gratitude for Byleth, nor did he trust himself to keep the emotions welling up within him under control. He looked to the crowd. “Only that I wish to thank you all for coming today. To see our whole family gathered together like this...it means so much to us both.” He took Byleth’s hand. “Thank you for helping me honor her today as she deserves.”

Byleth smiled at him, her cheeks reddening further. Moisture gathered in his eye as he smiled back. Someone in the crowd urged them to kiss and the chant steadily escalated. They leaned towards each other until their lips met. It was chaste, but they lingered as the crowd applauded again, smiling against each other’s mouths.

“Happy birthday, beloved,” he murmured as they parted.

“Thank you,” she whispered back. She traced a hand from his bangs down his cheek, her heart warm and full, but she still felt a bit guilty accepting so much praise. This was their family after all, equal parts hers and his. Everything Étienne had said in his toast could easily apply to Dimitri as well, but it clearly meant a lot to him that today be about her alone, so she made herself let it go and vowed that she’d pay him back in a few months on his birthday.

Guests helped themselves to food, drink and cake, and a line of them gradually passed through the gazebo to personally wish Byleth a happy birthday. A group of priests played lively music to help set the mood. As the crowd started to settle in and relax, a cleric suddenly came up to Nadia and whispered something to her. The Archbishop’s eyes widened and she immediately left the area.

Her swift exit didn’t go unnoticed by her parents. They glanced at each other quizzically. “Where’s Nadia going?” Byleth asked. “Did something happen?”

Isabeau shrugged. She was about to go ask someone when an excited murmur went through the crowd. She craned her neck, but she was too short to see over all the heads, so she grabbed another chair and stood on it to get a better view. Her puzzled expression shifted into a wide grin when she spotted her sister returning to the green, along with a tall, blonde youth with bright blue eyes.

“It’s Philippe!” Isabeau exclaimed as she hopped down. “Philippe’s here!”

Byleth’s eyebrows shot up. Dimitri gaped. “Truly?” he asked. “But I thought…?”

He trailed off as Nadia, beaming ear to ear, approached where they were sitting, a tiny bundle in her arms. Philippe stood at her side, trying to suppress his toothy grin into a more proper, polite smile. “Happy birthday, Great-Grandmother,” he said as he bowed. “It’s good to see you.”

Byleth nodded, smiling. It’d been a few years since she’d seen Philippe, and the image in her memory was of a gawky teenager and not the handsome young man before her. He still hardly looked old enough to be an adult to her eyes. “Thank you for coming.”

Nadia crouched slightly. “Mother, Father, I’d like you to meet your very first great-great-grandchild.”

With careful hands, she transferred the bundle to Dimitri’s arms. He inhaled sharply as he beheld the infant, for it somehow seemed tinier and more fragile than any other he’d previously seen. The baby made a soft coo at the motion, but its eyes did not open, and it settled contently in its new place.

“O-oh…” Dimitri murmured, thoroughly awestruck. His eye watered. “Hello, little one.”

Byleth and Isabeau leaned over the arms of his chair for a better look at the baby. “He’s adorable, Philippe!” Isabeau said. “Absolutely perfect!”

“Thank you, Auntie,” Philippe said with a proud smile.

“What’s his name?” Byleth asked.

“Well, officially he doesn’t have one yet,” Philippe replied with a nervous scratch to his head. “My wife and I have something in mind, but I wanted to ask permission first. It’s partly why I came today.” He glanced at Nadia, who nodded, and then he got down on one knee in front of Dimitri. “Great-Grandfather? My son inherited the Crest of Blaiddyd. I was hoping, with your blessing, to name him Lambert.”

Dimitri gasped and stared at Philippe slack-jawed. The tear pooling in his eye ran down his cheek. It’d never actually been discussed among their family, but there was an unspoken moratorium upon that name, its significance still an anguished echo from the past. For a second, Dimitri couldn’t think. A hissed whisper tickled his ear, but it was inaudible. He looked down at the baby, so small, innocent and perfect, and then smiled at Philippe.

“I...yes,” he said, raw emotion making him trip on his words. “If that is your wish, I can think of no finer name to bestow on him.”

Byleth, Isabeau, Nadia and Philippe all beamed. “Thank you so much, Great-Grandfather,” he said. “I will do my best to raise him into someone his namesake can be proud of.”

“I am certain you will,” Dimitri said. “Thank you, Philippe...this means more than I can put to words.” He stared at the baby for another long moment, struggling to keep his composure. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lambert,” he murmured. He hands began to tremble and he swiftly offered the bundle to Philippe.

“Did your wife accompany you?” Byleth asked. “I would like to meet her.”

“Sadly, the midwife advised against her making the trip,” Philippe said. “She sends her regards. I’m here to pay my respects and to show my son off to everyone.” He chuckled. “At least until he can no longer bear it.”

“Ah.” Byleth nodded in understanding. “Pity we don’t have time to catch up.”

“You don’t have to linger here with me, beloved,” Dimitri said as he rubbed his eye. “This gathering is for you, after all. You should go and enjoy it.”

She tipped her head, confused. “But what about you?”

“I’ll look after him,” Isabeau volunteered. She smiled. “He’s right, Mom. This is your day, so do whatever you want. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

Byleth still hesitated. She couldn’t remember ever being in a social setting where he wasn’t at her side for the duration. It made her chest hurt that he wasn’t mobile enough to mingle anymore, and a knot of guilt formed at leaving him for the sake of convenience and her own indulgence.

Dimitri read her conflicted feelings like an open book. He kissed her hand. “I’ll be fine, beloved. You do so much for me...you deserve a break from fretting over me.”

She bit her lip, then let out a small huff, knowing she was beat. She kissed his temple. “You are not a burden,” she murmured in his ear as a reminder. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Take your time,” Dimitri said with a small smile.

Byleth held out her arms as she rose from her seat. “May I hold him?”

“Of course,” Philippe said, carefully passing the baby to her.

Byleth smiled at the baby and slowly started to follow after Philippe and Nadia as they went to join another cluster of guests. She glanced back at Dimitri once, still conflicted, but he gave her an encouraging wave of his hand, and she finally left the shadow of the gazebo and migrated towards one of the long tables. He watched as other people soon surrounded her to fuss over Philippe and the baby, and the sight of Byleth smiling as she held baby Lambert, surrounded by their smiling children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, made Dimitri’s heart swell painfully in his chest. That smile was still just as mesmerizing now as it’d been when he’d first seen it decades ago. She was still so brilliant and beautiful, shining with such a powerful inner light it could dispel any darkness around her.

He didn’t realize he was crying until Isabeau took his hand. “Papa? What’s the matter?”

He hid his face in his other hand. “...I’m fine,” he said, though his audible sniffle made the claim unconvincing. He took a deep breath to gather himself, wiped his eye, and turned to her with a forced smile. “It’s just some thoughts in my head. No need to worry.”

Isabeau’s brow pinched. She leaned in closer. “Papa? If I can help, please tell me how.”

Dimitri paused, looked into her pleading eyes, and then turned back to Byleth and the others. He considered his words carefully, since he didn’t want to give his daughter any cause for alarm. “Could you make me a promise? About your mother?”

“Of course,” Isabeau said. “What is it?”

“If…” He swallowed. “If something were to happen to me, can you promise me that you’ll find ways to help her keep smiling?”

Isabeau’s breath hitched. “Papa? What are you…?”

“There’s no cause for concern,” Dimitri said with another forced smile. “It would simply ease my mind to know she’d still smile if that were the case.”

“Oh.” Isabeau squeezed his hand. A pit formed in her stomach, but she did her best to ignore it. She followed his gaze to where her mother was standing and watched her for a few moments. “That’s what today is really about, isn’t it? Why you wanted all of us here? You needed to see for yourself that she won’t be alone.”

Dimitri let out a darkly amused huff. Isabeau had always been uncannily attuned to the emotions of others. There was no point in trying to deny it, so he nodded. “Fears of losing her haunt me, but it seems inevitable that I will condemn her to suffer that pain instead. I have tried to make peace with it, but…” He swallowed again. “I do not doubt you and the others will take care of her, but what I want is for her to be happy.”

“Papa…” Isabeau’s eyes watered. She held back a sniffle as she wrapped her other hand around his as well. It took her a minute to figure out what to say. “Papa, I don’t want to think about losing either you or Mom...I love you both so much.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t dare look at her, fearing the sadness in her eyes would break him.

“But I think I understand what you’re feeling,” she said. “The two of you have lived a long life together, and the thought of being permanently apart must be frightening.” She kneaded his hand with her fingers. “I doubt Mom could be truly happy without you, but I know she’d still have moments of joy, moments where she’d laugh and smile even if her heart still hurts. We would never let her fall into despair. We will take care of her and love her as hard as we ever have. I promise.”

He let out a slow, shaky breath, feeling a bit relieved despite the lingering hurt within him. He appreciated the honesty of her answer, rather than her conjuring a false reassurance. “Thank you, my starshine.” He squeezed her hand. “And...keep this between us for now, won’t you?”

She nodded, her heart aching with foreboding. “I will.” She rubbed his hand again, fighting to keep her emotions under control. Her words wavered slightly when she next spoke. “You don’t need to worry about anything, OK? It’ll be hard for all of us, but we’ll survive.” She swallowed. “Whatever happens...I don’t want you to hurt this way, so please...believe me when I say that everything will be all right.”

Dimitri swallowed a sob. Isabeau wrapped her arms around his neck and gently pulled his head against her shoulder. They both let some tears fall, breathing through them to keep the trickles from turning into floods. He patted her arm and kissed her cheek when they drew apart, forcing a smile.

“Thank you, Isabeau. Truly.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes. “You’re welcome. I just want to help.” She sniffled and took a deep breath. “I need to visit the restroom. Will you be all right for a few minutes?” He nodded. “I could use something to drink too. Can I get you anything? Water?” She forced a smile. “Or maybe something stiffer?”

He chuckled faintly. “Water will suffice. Thank you.”

Dimitri watched her walk into the throng of people. He saw her tap all three of her siblings on their shoulders, and then the four of them stealthily stepped away from the crowd and disappeared around the bend together. He sighed to himself, still mired in melancholy but also feeling less burdened. Much as he hated pushing his own worries onto his children, confiding in Isabeau had helped.

He surveyed the crowd again, trying to not just watch Byleth but take in all the faces. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves; laughter kept bubbling up from the din of chatter and the smaller children were running around playing. The latter was a particularly endearing scene that helped soothe some of his heartache. Their carefree joy was how it should be, the exact sort of thing he’d wished for every child in the kingdom.

A tiny girl with auburn hair caught him watching her and she left her cousins to approach him, dragging her stuffed rabbit behind her. Dimitri was pretty sure she was one of Tristan’s grandchildren. Angela was her name, if he remembered correctly, and she was barely two years old. She toddled up to his knee, her big brown eyes looking very determined, and tapped it with her free hand.

“Up!” she demanded.

Dimitri chuckled. It took a lot of effort to shift his weight and bend himself over, but he succeeded in getting his hands under her arms. Lifting her was a bit harder; she was heavier than he’d expected and his fingers struggled to maintain a solid grip, but after a false start, he pulled her into his lap. Angela didn’t react positively or negatively, she just settled herself across his thighs like it had always been her assigned seat.

She held up her toy, which was in rough shape; its stuffing was lumpy and malformed, one of its button eyes was missing, the ends of its ears were chewed, and its plush surface was matted and thoroughly crusted with dried drool. “Sha-sha,” she said.

“Oh, is that your bunny’s name?” Dimitri asked.

Angela nodded, her face serious. She rubbed the spot where her rabbit’s lost eye used to be, and then she pointed a chubby finger at Dimitri’s eye patch. “Like Sha-sha.”

He smiled. “Yes, I’m missing an eye too. Sha-sha and I are both a little worn out.” He regarded the toy, considering. “Or maybe I should say we’re both well-loved.”

She smiled back and clutched her bunny tightly. “Love Sha-sha,” she chirped.

“I can tell,” Dimitri said. “She must go everywhere with you, doesn’t she?” She nodded, solemn. “That’s good. I’m glad you keep her by your side. I’m sure it means a lot to her that you care so much about her even though she’s old and worn.”

Angela blinked a few times, not really understanding his meaning, then she leaned her head against his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth. He set a hand on her head and gently petted her hair, thinking back to times long past when his children had sought out his lap when they’d needed to decompress from playing or socializing. He leaned back in his chair and shut his eye, savoring the nostalgia, a bittersweet longing welling in his chest.

“I’m sorry, little one,” he murmured. “I wish I could watch you grow up...know the person you will become. There are….so many things I wish I could live to see.” It figured he’d struggle to feel happy on what should be a joyful day. He took a deep breath and focused on the gentle breeze, the weight and warmth of Angela’s little body on his lap, the sounds of everyone else socializing. His ear caught one of Byleth’s soft laughs and he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

It was a peaceful moment. Maybe that was enough.

“Oh, you have new company now I see,” Isabeau said when she returned. She set a glass of water on the arm of his chair and then seated herself in Byleth’s chair.

“She seemed to think my lap was where she needed to be,” Dimitri said.

Isabeau chuckled, taking a sip from her goblet of wine. “She’s a smart kid. That’s the best seat in the world for someone her age.”

Angela yawned and snuggled closer, teetering on the verge of sleep. Her mother wandered past a moment later, looking about in search of her child, and then spotted her position. “Oh, here you are, Angie. I hope she hasn’t been too much of a bother to you, Your Majesty.”

“Not at all,” Dimitri said. “I’ve enjoyed her company. She just wanted to show me her rabbit.”

“Like Sha-sha!” Angela chirped, pointing at Dimitri’s right eye again. Isabeau chuckled behind her hand.

Angela’s mother looked horrified. “Angie, that’s so rude! I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.”

He smiled. “It’s fine. She’s a very observant child.”

“I’ll take her off your hands,” her mother said, hiding a sigh of relief. “It’s time for her nap.”

“Very well.” Dimitri wanted to say Angela was welcome to stay as she was, but considered the child might sleep better away from all the noise. He lifted Angela to stand on his lap, looking into her big round eyes. “It was good to see you, little one. Take good care of Sha-sha.”

Angela nodded her head, her expression serious. Then she smiled and reached out to pat his cheek. “Love you!”

His eye watered. She was so young it was unlikely she’d remember anything about him, but in this moment, her words meant more than she could ever know. He kissed her forehead. “Thank you...for keeping an old man company.”

Her mother bowed and then lifted Angela onto her hip and turned to walk away. Angela waved. “Bye bye!” she called.

Dimitri waved back, a sad smile on his face. Isabeau touched his arm. “You OK?”

“Yes.” He reached for the water and took a long sip, then sighed. “You don’t really need to babysit me, you know. You can go off and mingle and enjoy yourself rather than watch me mope.”

“I like keeping you company,” she said. “That’s always been true. Remember how I used to sit in on your meetings, or play on the floor of your office while you worked?”

He nodded. “...Thank you. Your company is appreciated now just as it was then.”

Étienne strolled over to them, a half empty goblet of wine in one hand. “Finally making the rounds back to you, Father,” he said as he pulled up a chair. “It’s a challenge to make sure I speak with everyone on such a compressed schedule.”

Dimitri smiled, grateful for the distraction. He and Étienne had chatted over tea almost daily back before he moved to Garreg Mach. He missed those talks. “How are things in Fhirdiad?”

“Oh, you know how it goes,” Étienne said. “Nothing out of the ordinary. We had a particularly warm summer, which makes me wonder what sort of winter we might be in for.”

Isabeau raised an eyebrow, a disproving look on her face. “Papa doesn’t need to hear about the weather. Go on, tell him what you’re up to.”

Étienne blushed. “Yes, of course. Um...” He took a swig from his glass. “...I’m planning on reintroducing your proposal for universal public education during the next parliament session.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows went up, his mouth falling slightly open. That proposal had been dead in the water for twenty years; he’d made a last ditch attempt to revive it right before his unofficial retirement, but no one had taken it seriously. He tried to gather his thoughts, to warn Étienne about the political capital it could cost him, but the words wouldn’t connect with his mind.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Étienne said, staring down into his cup. “You’re going to tell me it’s been rejected too many times before and I should prioritize other things lest I squander my good will with the nobles, right?”

“I...yes,” Dimitri said. “It’s a worthy cause but...experience has told me that there is no appetite for it.”

“I intend to change that,” Étienne said. “You spent so much time and effort establishing the parliament in the first place; it was such a seismic shift for Faerghus that I think people were wary of instituting another sweeping change back then. But now that parliament has been working as intended for years and proved itself a popular concept, I think now is the time to revisit the education idea.”

“Are you sure?” Dimitri asked. “Even if you’re right about the timing, it still won’t be easy. There are other causes that will have far less resistance and be far simpler to execute.”

“I’m sure.” Étienne smiled and leaned forward, setting his hand atop Dimitri’s. “Father…I know the failure of this proposal is one of your biggest regrets, so please allow me to finish what you started. I will see this happen during my reign. I promise.”

“Étienne…” Dimitri’s breath hitched, his throat tight. He stared at his son. “I...you don’t need to take on this task for my sake.”

“It’s for the good of the people and the future of Faerghus,” Étienne deferred as he leaned back. “And perhaps this will be my signature achievement when I’m mentioned in the history books too.” He finished his wine. “You can blame Isabeau’s haranguing for convincing me to make this my pet project.”

Isabeau gave his arm a playful slap. “You were the one who recruited me to help you. I should tell Nadia of your lie so that she might make you confess your sins.” All three of them chuckled. Isabeau took a sip of her own wine. “I’ve spoken with commoners all across the continent over the last six years. A few of them are skeptical about how it would work, but majority are quite enthusiastic. The exceptions are the farmers and laborers who fear supporting themselves without their children around to help. That is certainly something to consider as we figure out how to implement the system.”

Étienne nodded. “We’re now in the process of finding support for the measure with the nobles. Govan is on board, as is the rest of the backbone of Old Faerghus. Fabian helped with securing the support of his uncle. I recently got a letter from Duchess Goneril expressing interest but wanting more details.”

“My trip to Aegir is likewise to help grease the skids,” Isabeau added. “I recall the previous duke was one of the few in favor of the idea when you first floated it, so I suspect I can persuade the current duke to lend his support.”

“Yes, and I’ve been talking to each of the western lords in private,” Étienne said. “I think I’ve convinced Baron Dominic and Countess Duval. Progress is being made.”

“Rowe will probably be the longest holdout among them,” Isabeau said. “Elidure and Mateus will probably want some sort of favor in return for their support. And I’m sure Bergliez and Phlegethon will give us plenty of headaches.”

Étienne frowned. “You’re probably right about that. But we’re in this battle for the long haul. I’m sure Nadia will lend the support of the church once we have the plan in place.”

“We could always sic Tristan on them for a lecture,” Isabeau said with a grin.

“Sister, how could you even suggest something so wicked?” Étienne asked with a hearty laugh.

Dimitri struggled to follow their conversation, but as he listened to them, heard the passion and determination in their voices, it suddenly occurred to him that Isabeau had it exactly right: there was no reason for him to worry about anything. His children, Byleth’s children, were all highly capable adults living happy, fulfilling lives. Étienne had been governing successfully for years already, and he had a clear vision for what he wanted for the kingdom, and he had the support of all his siblings, whom all similarly wanted to maintain peace and improve the lives of the people. His family would continue to support and protect Faerghus and each other, no matter what the future held.

He’d truly experienced a life well lived. A life that had been filled with more joy and wonder than he ever would’ve imagined as an orphaned boy, a life that was so much more than he deserved. And it was all possible because on a stormy night, when in a moment of complete despair, a warm hand had reached out to him in the rain and he’d allowed himself to take it.

There was nothing he could do to prevent the grief and heartache Byleth would feel when he died, but she would not be alone. She’d always been stronger than he was; she would persevere despite her sorrow, and she would live on to see and experience many amazing things without him. And maybe, Goddess willing, they would reunite in the realm beyond this one. He would not make that presumption, but it was a far more comforting thought than his dream about the labyrinth.

Sira approached, laying a hand on Étienne’s shoulder. “Dear, the guards sent me to get you. We need to depart.”

Étienne sighed in resignation. He patted her hand. “Thank you, my dear. You can go on ahead. I shall be there presently.”

Sira nodded. “It was good to see you again, Isabeau. I trust you’ll visit Fhirdiad soon?”

“Of course,” Isabeau replied. “I’ll be there for the next parliament assembly during the Red Wolf Moon, if not before. Be well, Sira.”

Sira bowed to Dimitri. “I will pray to the gods for your continued good health, Your Majesty.”

“I appreciate that, Sira,” Dimitri said with a half smile. He paused and then recited a Duscur proverb about keeping the hearth and heart warm. He tripped a bit on the pronunciation, as it had been several years since he’d last spoken the language, but Sira smiled in response.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. “I shall endeavor to do so.” She patted Étienne’s shoulder as a reminder and then headed for the gates.

“I wish I could stay longer,” Étienne said with another sigh. “I know the western lords will hold it against me if I’m late. I can’t give them any cause to be annoyed with me ahead of the next assembly.”

“You don’t have to be nice to people when they’re being petty,” Isabeau said.

“I’m afraid I don’t intimidate people the same way you do, sister,” Étienne said with a chuckle. “Thank you again for your support and for going to meet with Duke Aegir. I hope it goes well.”

“I’ll keep you posted.” She embraced him. “But you really do need to assert yourself more.”

“When I’m truly king, perhaps, but I’m in no hurry for that day to come,” Étienne said as he pulled away. He smiled at Dimitri. “Speaking of, I suppose I’ll next see you during the Ethereal Moon? For your birthday, Father?”

Dimitri’s mouth twitched in the vaguest inkling of a smile, then he sighed. “Yes...I suppose so.” Étienne bent down to hug him and he latched on with the strongest hold he could manage. “Thank you for coming, Étienne. It meant a lot to your mother...and to me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Étienne said. “I’m already looking forward to the next time.”

“I love you so much, my cub,” Dimitri murmured into his ear. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“Father…” Étienne’s breath hitched, his throat tight. His father hadn’t called him by that pet name in years. His arms clenched tighter around Dimitri’s shoulders. “I love you too. Always.”

“Your Highness!” someone called in the distance.

Dimitri had to will himself to let go of his son. “Ah, forgive me for delaying you. Safe travels.”

“It’s of no consequence,” Étienne said with a forced smile. A bit of moisture shimmered in his eyes and his hand lingered for a few seconds on Dimitri’s arm. “Until we next meet, be well, Father.”

“Goodbye…” Dimitri murmured as he stared after him. Memories of his elder son’s life replayed before him, particularly when he’d first held him as a baby and the hours spent teaching him lance techniques in the training yard when he was a boy. That was all a lifetime ago now, but it still burned fresh in his mind, equally warm and painful.

He held back a yawn as he returned to watching the crowd, listening to the noise more than trying to parse individual voices. Geraint joined them for awhile and he shared some of the things he’d learned while talking with others with Isabeau. Dimitri nodded periodically as he listened to them talk, but his mind kept drifting off and losing their conversation. But that was fine. It was nice just hearing Isabeau’s voice and occasional laughter.

As darkness fell, torches were lit all around the gazebo and more food and drink was brought out to keep everyone fed. The party continued with little sign of abating, but after filling her stomach again, the festivities finally started to catch up with Byleth. The smaller children were being hauled off to bed by that point, and she was ready to do the same. She was certain Dimitri was too and her suspicion was confirmed when she found him half asleep in his chair, his head bobbing as he fought to stay awake.

“There you are, Mom,” Isabeau said. “I was about to come find you.” She pointed to her father, smiling fondly. “I think it’s past his bedtime.”

“It’s past mine too,” Byleth said as she suppressed a yawn. She touched Dimitri’s shoulder, startling him. “Dimitri? Are you ready to head back?”

He rubbed his eye, smiling up at her despite the exhaustion plain on his face. “Only if you are, beloved. Please do not cut your day short for my sake.”

“I am. It’s late and I’m tired. Everyone else can keep up the party without us.”

“As you wish.” He inhaled deeply before rising. His spine creaked, his knees trembled, and for a moment he thought he was going to fall. He gripped his cane with white knuckles, leaning hard upon it while taking a few sharp, nervous breaths.

“Are you OK?” Isabeau asked.

Dimitri took a tentative step forward, and while he stayed upright, he wavered. Something was more off than usual in his balance, and it didn’t feel like the normal fatigue he had at the end of the day. He gave her a helpless look. “I...might need some help getting there,” he admitted. “Just in case.”

Tristan was standing not far away, so Isabeau signaled to him and he came over to walk with them to the elevator. The trip had never felt so long before, nor had the progress ever been so slow as Dimitri labored the entire way. His whole equilibrium was off, his legs unsteady as he felt light headed while his hands kept shaking, making it difficult to maintain a grip on his cane. He kept his head down to better concentrate on his footing and ease the growing dizziness. He willed himself to keep moving despite the struggle, wholly focused on reaching the sanctuary of his bed.

Somewhere along the way he stumbled, and Tristan took Dimitri’s free arm and looped it over his shoulders. “Almost there, Father,” he encouraged.

Isabeau took his other arm. “You can lean on me too,” she said.

The cane fell out of Dimitri’s hand as he slumped against them. Byleth picked it up, her lips pursed in worry. She signaled the monks manning the elevator. One of them grabbed a nearby stool, and they hastened to help everyone inside and start pulling the platform up.

“You made it!” Isabeau said. She and Tristan helped lower their father onto the stool.

Dimitri made a loud groan at the movement, relieved but unable to catch his breath. It felt like a demonic beast was standing on his chest and his mind blared an alarm that something was critically wrong with his body. Panic took root. As the platform heaved upwards, everything spun violently in his vision. He was going to fall or be sick or both at once and he couldn’t breathe.

Was this it? Was the shadow of death going to claim him in this moment? He automatically looked towards Byleth, trying to call to her but unable to gather the necessary air, while his right hand instinctively sought out something for purchase. He made a clumsy, fruitless grab at Isabeau’s arm, and then he felt himself falling before everything went totally dark.

“Dimitri!” Byleth cried as he toppled over. Tristan was able to catch him before he hit the floor.

“Papa!” Isabeau shook his shoulder and patted his cheek, her eyes widening as she found his skin clammy. His complexion had gone chalk white.

“Hurry up!” Tristan called to the elevator operators.

The platform made a dramatic lurch in response. As soon as it reached the third floor, Byleth called to Marie, who was waiting by Dimitri’s door as usual. She rushed to join them, motioning the monks, Isabeau and Byleth away from him.

“Lay him down,” Marie said to Tristan. He helped her ease Dimitri onto the hallway floor on his back. She tore apart the buttons on his coat and ripped his shirt open. Her hands lit upon his neck and chest, and she lowered her head to listen to his labored breathing. She traced her fingers around his neck, having trouble feeling his pulse at first, then her lips started moving in a silent count. Her brow creased. “...Thirty-two?” she murmured.

The seconds were agony as Byleth watched. It felt much like the way the world froze when she used the Divine Pulse, and her instincts wanted to manipulate the flow of time to go faster or go backwards or anything to make it so she didn’t have to wait. Isabeau grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard to help them both stay grounded as panic threatened to overwhelm them.

Marie pulled back briefly to rub her hands together and take a deep breath as she summoned her strongest magic. Her Crest manifested as a bright white light enveloped her, and then she placed both of her hands over Dimitri’s heart. The light flowed into him, tendrils of it gracefully winding across his skin before disappearing into his body. Slowly, like a trickle from a faucet, his breathing evened out and color returned to his face. Marie pressed her fingers to his neck again, feeling his pulse strengthen and speed up.

“Fifty...fifty-one...” Marie muttered. She glanced over her shoulder. “He’s coming back, Milady.”

Byleth and Isabeau simultaneously exhaled. Some of the tension left Tristan’s shoulders. “Father?” he asked, tapping Dimitri’s cheek. “Father, can you hear me?”

Dimitri moaned softly, his head turning away from Tristan’s hand, but his eye didn’t open. Marie pried the lids apart for a few seconds and he flinched and made another noise.  She took his hand. “Your Majesty? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.” His fingers twitched but didn’t close. She looked at Tristan. “Can you help me carry him to his bed?”

Tristan nodded. The monks manning the elevator helped too, and together they carried Dimitri as carefully as if he were made of glass. Byleth clutched his cane tightly in both hands as she followed, her mind spinning in place and unable to manifest any thoughts other than wishing for him to be OK. Isabeau kept a hand on her back, and Byleth was grateful for that bit of physical contact, as it seemed like the only thing keeping her upright.

She automatically moved to stand at the head of Dimitri’s bed, within his line of sight, as he was gently laid down. Tristan joined Isabeau at her side, and the three of them watched as Marie checked his pulse again.

“Sixty-five,” she said. She wiped perspiration from her forehead and then looked at Byleth. “Try speaking to him, Milady. He’s more apt to respond to your voice.”

Byleth nodded. She bent down to take his hand. “Dimitri? Can you hear me?”

His brow crinkled and his fingers loosely curled around her hand. “...By…leth…?” he slurred.

There was a loud, collective sigh of relief in the room. Byleth brought his hand to her lips, her throat tight and her eyes burning. “Yes, I’m here. Everything’s OK.”

Isabeau sniffled and leaned into Tristan. He put an arm around her shoulders, his rigid posture sagging. “Papa...thank the Goddess….”

White light flared at Marie’s fingertips as she cast a supplemental heal spell. Dimitri’s eye fluttered halfway open for a moment. His gaze was glassy and unfocused, but his grip on Byleth’s hand got a bit firmer as he recognized that something was there for him to clutch. Marie turned his head to face her, scrutinizing him closely.

“He should be all right after some rest,” she said. “But I want to monitor him closely through the night just in case.”

Byleth nodded. “I’d like to stay with him for awhile.”

“Of course, Milady.” Marie looked at the others. “You may linger if you want, but we cannot have a crowd in here.”

“We need to inform Nadia,” Tristan said as he glanced at his sister.

Isabeau nodded in agreement. She was still visibly shaking and took a deep breath to steady herself. “Yes, and everyone else as well. We’ll take care of it, Mom.”

“Thank you,” Byleth said.

“Please inform us if there’s any change,” Isabeau added. “No matter what time it is.”

Marie nodded. “Of course. I will notify the Archbishop if anything happens, but try to rest easy tonight. I’m quite sure His Majesty will feel better in the morning.”

Isabeau forced a smile. “Thank you, Marie, for taking such good care of him.”

“We appreciate your expertise,” Tristan said. He patted Byleth’s shoulder and then leaned over to do the same to Dimitri. A bit of magic passed from his palm, almost like a kiss. “Feel better, Father.”

Isabeau kissed Byleth’s cheek and then Dimitri’s temple. “Goodnight, Papa. I love you.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows twitched, recognizing their presence and voices. “...night…” he mumbled.

Byleth assisted Marie in getting Dimitri undressed and making him more comfortable. He was inert as they worked, groaning softly as they maneuvered him, with only a few twitches of his hands or head in the directions where he could sense one of them. Once he was settled in bed, Byleth laid down beside him, taking his hand again. Marie pulled a chair to the other side of the bed and seated herself, taking a few deep breaths as her adrenaline waned.

“What happened to him?” Byleth asked.

“It’s called bradycardia, Milady,” Marie said. “It’s when the heart beats too slowly, and it can cause weakness, shortness of breath, and fainting, among other symptoms. As to what caused it, I can’t be sure, but given all the excitement of today, I’d attribute it to exhaustion.”

“I see.” Byleth paused, looking at Dimitri’s still face. “And he’ll recover?”

“I think so,” Marie said. “We’ll keep a close eye on him to see if it recurs, but after some rest, he should be fine.”

Byleth sighed in relief, but a knot of guilt lodged in her chest. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let him stay out all day.”

“No, Milady,” Marie said firmly. “There was no way to know this would happen.” She paused, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. “His Majesty is very strong, but at his age, his health will always be delicate. Sometimes things like this can come up without warning. Consider how unexpectedly sick you were with the flu this winter.”

Byleth nodded, understanding the point, so she did her best to not dwell on her guilt. The sight of Dimitri collapsed on the floor, pale and struggling to breathe, would haunt her for some time. She’d always been able to protect him from harm, so the helplessness she’d felt in that moment was difficult to accept. She kissed his knuckles, her eyes fixed on his ring as she did so.

“My love,” she murmured. “You’ll be OK.”

Dimitri sighed and his eye opened partway again. His thoughts were cloaked in an exhausted fog and it didn’t even feel like he was within his own body, more like he was drifting somewhere outside of it. He knew there was a warm presence beside him, one that was familiar and comforting, but his vision wouldn’t focus.

“Goddess…?” he murmured, barely discernible.

Byleth startled at the sound without picking up the word he spoke. She gently stroked his hair. “I’m here, Dimitri.”

Oh, so it was her. Then that could only mean one thing. “Is it time?”

Her brow furrowed. His voice was so soft she had to lean in closer to make out what he was saying. “Time for what?”

“Are you...going to take me...to that place?”

“What place?” she asked.

His eye watered and he let out a thready sob. “I’m sorry…” he slurred. “I...I accept your judgment. But please…” A tear rolled down his cheek. “Tell me...you’ll look after her. Please…”

Byleth genuinely had no clue what he was babbling about, but she could hear the despair in his words. It made her eyes burn and her chest tighten. She kissed his forehead. “Shh...it’s OK. You’re safe, Dimitri. I promise.”

Safe? Did that mean she wasn’t going to send him to that labyrinth? Dimitri blinked a few times, confused, and then her face clarified in his view. The world felt more real. The touch of her hand became more tangible and he gripped it more firmly, a small smile crossing his lips. “My beloved…”

She smiled back. “Yes, I’m here.”

“What happened?” he asked. His body felt so heavy, so completely wrung dry of energy, and he didn’t understand why. The last thing he remembered was walking to the elevator.

“It’s OK,” Byleth said. “You gave us a scare, but you’re going to be fine.”

“Oh.” Dimitri didn’t know what that meant exactly, but if she said he was fine, then he had no reason to question it. “And the party...did you enjoy it?”

She almost laughed. Of course he’d be more concerned with that than his health emergency. “Yes. It was a wonderful time.”

“Good.” He sighed, content. His eye slid shut. “Hm...so tired.”

Byleth kissed him on the mouth. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, beloved,” he murmured.

It was mere moments until he drifted off. She ran her hand through his bangs once more before rising, her own exhaustion smacking into her like a runaway horse. “You’ll be here all night?” she asked.

Marie nodded. “Yes, I will watch him closely, and I’ll inform you immediately if there’s the slightest change.”

“Thank you,” Byleth said. “I’ll be back early, before he wakes up.”

“As you wish. Goodnight, Milady. Get some rest.”

Byleth sighed heavily as she walked to her room, the breadth of her relief almost making her feel like she could cry. This incident was only a minor dark spot on an otherwise bright day. She could go to bed thinking about all the joy she’d experienced today and not about what might’ve happened. Dimitri was fine. Everything was fine.

Chapter Text

The extended family gradually dispersed over the course of the following day. Normally, Byleth and Dimitri would’ve been by the monastery gates to exchange upbeat goodbyes and see everyone off, but instead the guests came to his room one by one and their farewells were far more solemn. Dimitri made it through the night without further incident, and Marie’s thorough assessment couldn’t find any cause for alarm come morning, but he was still exhausted and could hardly stay awake, let alone consider leaving his bed. He largely slept through everyone’s brief visits, minus the occasional sigh and flicker of his eyelid.

Byleth sat at his bedside and politely thanked everyone for coming and reiterated how lovely it was seeing them all. While she meant it sincerely, she despised their forced smiles and the looks in their eyes that spoke what they would not say with words. Each of them appraised Dimitri warily, almost like they didn’t recognize him, and only a handful addressed him directly and instead only spoke with her. She tried to rationalize it as none of them wanting to disturb his rest, but a sour feeling still lodged in her gut.

He did wake in earnest when Isabeau and her family came. Her kids hugged him and Geraint shook his hand as they said their farewells before heading home to Itha. Isabeau lingered after them, seating herself on the edge of his bed and holding his hand.

“I could send a message to Duke Aegir,” she said softly. “Ask him to postpone our meeting. I’m sure he’d understand if I explained you’re ill.”

Dimitri smiled. “I’ll be fine. You have important work to do.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded. “Go on ahead. There’s no need to put anything on hold for my sake.”

“Papa…” Isabeau swallowed as tears welled in her eyes. “I’ll stop back here before I return to Itha. It shouldn’t be more than a few weeks. A month at most.”

“That’d be lovely,” he said. He reached up with a shaky hand to cup her cheek. As much as he was proud of the woman she’d become, a part of him had never stopped thinking of her as his baby girl, the tiny unexpected miracle whom he’d always felt the need to hold a little closer. His smile wavered as he saw the sorrow she was fighting to hide. “Thank you for everything.”

Isabeau nodded. She wrapped her arms around him, curling beside him similar to the way she used to as a child when she crawled into her parents’ bed. She sniffled, willing herself not to cry with her mother in the room. “I swear I won’t forget that promise,” she whispered to him. “So don’t worry about a thing.”

He nuzzled her hair as he held her as tightly as he could manage. “You don’t need to worry either,” he murmured back. He kissed her forehead, a single tear falling from his eye. “I love you...my starshine.”

“I love you too, Papa. So, so much.” She gave him another squeeze and kissed his cheek before willing herself to rise, pushing down all of her sadness. She turned to her mother and embraced her just as tightly. “I’ll see you soon, Mom. Take care until then.”

Byleth kissed her forehead. “Thank you.” She smiled, running a soothing hand through her daughter’s hair, since she looked so uncertain. “We’ll both be looking forward to it.”

Isabeau took a deep breath and forced a smile. “So will I.” She stole one more look at Dimitri and gave him a little wave before leaving the room.

Byleth picked up the water glass on the bedside table. She could tell Dimitri was drifting off again, so she only had a limited window. She poked the straw between his lips. “Drink,” she said. “You need to stay hydrated.”

He took a few slow sips, giving her a little half smile. “I’d tell you there’s no need to fret over me, but I know it won’t dissuade you.”

“Of course not.” She smiled back, but there was obvious concern in her eyes. “Can I get you anything to eat?”

Dimitri shook his head. “Maybe later,” he deferred, hoping it would help appease her worries. “I feel fine, I’m just tired.”

“I know.” Byleth ran a hand through his bangs as she watched his eyelid droop. She was running out of ideas about how to spur his appetite. Despite her best efforts, he’d lost so much weight over the summer that all of his clothes were now baggy on his frame, and her ring was so loose on his finger that it twisted around whenever he moved his left hand. It was only the width of his knuckle that prevented it from falling off entirely. She kissed his temple. “Rest as much as you need today. I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you, beloved,” he said through a sigh. Much as he felt guilty about it, he didn’t have the courage to send her away, assuming she’d even agree if he tried. He still wasn’t sure what exactly she’d meant by ‘a scare,’ but he could deduce from her increased doting that whatever it was had left her rattled. In a strange way, he was grateful. With the party now over, there was nothing else he wanted other than to be in her presence as much as possible, and it was easier to justify being clingy when she desired the same.

He dozed as Byleth worked on her knitting. Having her hands busy helped keep her mind off the knot of disquiet inside of her. She kept reminding herself that yesterday had been an unusually eventful and exhausting day, one that wouldn’t be repeated anytime soon, if ever at all. Now that it was over, there was nothing but their usual calm, quiet days ahead. He’d be fine once he’d had a chance to recover from all the excitement.

Nadia and Tristan came a short while later. “How is he?” Tristan asked.

“He says he’s fine, just tired,” Byleth said. “He insisted Isabeau go to her meeting.”

Nadia smiled fondly, though it was a bit strained. “Of course he did.”

“Are you leaving now?” Byleth asked Tristan.

The two of them glanced at each other. “No,” he said. “We reached an agreement.”

“An agreement?” Byleth tipped her head.

“Call it a compromise,” Nadia said. “In exchange for agreeing to continue overseeing things in Enbarr, I’ve granted him an extended leave of absence, to give him a break from the stress of his post. He and Cleo have been a big help here at the monastery over the last few weeks, so I see it as a win-win. And of course, it’ll allow him to spend more time with you and Father too.”

Byleth smiled. “Dimitri, did you hear that?”

He startled with a snort. “Hm?” His eyelid fluttered open. It took him a minute to orient himself about where he was and who was in the room. “What is it?”

“Tristan will be staying for awhile longer,” Byleth said.

“Is that so?” Dimitri smiled. Tristan’s continued presence would no doubt be a comfort to Byleth. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s been wonderful spending time with you, nugget.”

Tristan’s cheeks turned pink as Nadia concealed a grin behind her hand. He let out a small puff of air, pushing down his embarrassment at hearing his old nickname. “I agree.”

“I’m happy you worked things out,” Byleth said. “How long is this leave of absence?”

Again, her children glanced at each other, uncertainty flashing in their eyes. “I didn’t set a hard deadline,” Nadia supplied. “I trust he will inform me as soon as he feels ready to resume his duties.”

“I appreciate you not enforcing a timetable,” Tristan said. His left hand, hanging at his side, kept kneading his cassock, which didn’t escape Byleth’s notice. Something was off, but she could only guess as to what. Maybe his and Nadia’s compromise wasn’t as settled as they were making it sound.

“He also had a wonderful suggestion,” Nadia said. She made a slight clear of her throat as she looked between her parents. “He thought the two of us could alternate nights watching you, Father. Instead of the usual rotation of clerics.”

Byleth immediately liked the idea. Given Dimitri’s troubles with recognizing the clerics, it would be less disorienting for him to be attended by their children if something happened or if he woke during the night. Plus Nadia and Tristan both had good command of faith magic for an emergency.

“Oh, you needn’t trouble yourselves like that,” Dimitri said. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“It’s not any trouble,” Nadia said, her smile still pinched. “And it’s only for while you’re recovering. Once you get your strength back, everything can return to how it was.” She went for the kill. “I’m sure it would help put Mother’s mind at ease too.”

“It would,” Byleth agreed. “I think it’s a great idea.”

Dimitri huffed in defeat. Even if he had the energy to argue, it’d be pointless. Despite their genial expressions, he could see the same worry in their eyes as their mother and Isabeau. Their concern was touching, but it was also vexing how apparently no one believed him when he said he felt fine, just tired. “Very well,” he said. “If that is what it will take to assuage you, I have no objections. But it’s truly not necessary.”

Nadia’s smile widened. “Thank you for humoring us, Father. You’ll have to pardon our being a bit protective. We learned it from the two of you, after all.”

“I suppose so,” he said with a faint chuckle. He stretched a hand towards her. “Thank you again, dearheart. For all of your hard work in making yesterday happen. It meant so much.”

“Of course.” Nadia twined her fingers with his. “It was my pleasure. It meant a lot to all of us too, being gathered together and celebrating as a family. I wish we could do it more often.”

“I’m grateful it gave me an excuse to leave Enbarr for awhile,” Tristan said with an impish curl to his lips. It earned him an eyeroll from his sister, but she refrained from comment. He laid his hand over their joined ones. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to visit. And that I’ve been lax in replying to your letters. I’ll try to make it up to you.”

“There’s no need,” Dimitri said. “You’re here now and we’re grateful for it.” He smiled. “The work you do matters to so many people. You make me proud every day, son. Don’t ever forget that.”

Tristan smiled softly, a bit of moisture gathering in his eyes. “Thank you, Father. I won’t.”

There was a brief pause as Dimitri looked at them both, his thoughts wandering to memories of their childhoods and watching them grow up, and how proud he was when they’d both demonstrated the resolve to follow their hearts and join the church rather than succumb to the pressure to follow his path into governing. It’d been an especially difficult choice for Nadia, being the first born and presumed heir to his throne, but Tristan chose to live a much more modest life as a clergyman because of his desire to be hands on with helping commoners. Dimitri was happy all of his children had been able to pursue their dreams even while accepting the responsibilities of royalty.

His arm wavered as it became too hard for him to keep holding it up, and he had to pull it away. He sighed as he sank into the bed. “Forgive me. I’m still rather tired.”

Nadia nodded. “It’s fine. We’ll leave you so you can rest.” She turned to Byleth. “Mother, would you care to join us for dinner?”

Byleth shook her head. “I’ll eat here.”

“All right. I’ll have the kitchen send something up.” Nadia bent down slightly and lowered her voice. “Including some onion grating soup for Father.”

“Thank you,” Byleth said with a nod.

“I’ll take the watch tonight,” Tristan said. “I’ll be back later.”

Byleth nodded again and shut the door behind them before returning to her chair. Dimitri’s eye was already closed again, his breathing deeper. She sighed to herself and picked up her knitting, focusing on the next row of her pattern. She was getting close to finishing this scarf, and while it was hardly anything special, she liked how it was turning out. It’d be perfect for him to wear this winter when the weather allowed them to take walks around the monastery.

Dimitri did show some minor improvement over the next several days. He was able to get out of bed, but only to sit in a chair on the other side of his room. Byleth inquired if he wanted to go outside to enjoy the waning fair autumn weather and he declined, daunted at the thought of walking that far. Even just getting to the elevator felt like too much, so he told her he was content to stay in his room. To give him something to see other than the same view, Tristan set up a bird feeder at the window, and Dimitri enjoyed watching the many colorful birds that came to feast as they bulked up for winter or for their migration flights.

But more and more his mind was adrift and he found it hard to focus his thoughts. He also slipped in and out consciousness on a whim, even when he desired to stay awake, and it was difficult to feed himself as his hands were unsteady and repeatedly lifting his arm to his face was exhausting. It was taking more and more healing magic to ease the persistent aches in his body too. It bothered him, but not as much as it might’ve at one point. He found very little bothered him now. Even his moments of confusion didn’t upset him the way they used to. He was in familiar surroundings and the familiar faces of his wife and children were always close by. He didn’t need anything else, so he felt little cause to be troubled.

Byleth practically moved into his room, only leaving at night to sleep like usual. She’d sit with him and work on her knitting, or she’d read to him or comment on the birds or reveal bits of news or gossip she’d heard from the clerics, regardless of whether or not he truly listened. Many times he apologized for being poor company as he struggled to stay awake or string together more than a couple of sentences at once, but she truly didn’t mind. She convinced herself that he simply needed more time to regain his strength, just as it’d taken her a few weeks to fully recover from the flu last winter.

She refused to acknowledge that knot of disquiet as it gradually tightened around her insides.

Two weeks after the party, they were having their usual afternoon tea in his room as a light rain tapped against the window. Dimitri had dozed off after drinking half of his cup of chamomile, slumped in his chair with his head back and his mouth partway open. Byleth always winced at the thought of how stiff his neck must get when he fell asleep like that, though he never complained of it, but she thought he looked cute anyway. She’d tucked a blanket around him and gone back to her knitting, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d wake up and apologize yet again for falling asleep.

She’d just finished a row in her pattern when he made an alarming noise she’d never heard before. It was a rattly, ragged gasping sound that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up straight. Byleth dropped her needles and leapt from her seat, and her pulse stopped as she couldn’t immediately tell if he was breathing.

“Dimitri!” she cried, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him hard.

He startled in her grip, snorting through his nose, and then his eye fluttered open. “Hm?” He blinked at her in confusion.

Byleth exhaled slowly. She put a hand to her chest to confirm that her pulse was still beating, only to find it was pounding too fast in her veins.

“I fell asleep again, didn’t I?” he asked through a yawn, giving her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

“No...it’s OK.” Her fingers curled into his shoulder. Her throat was tight and her eyes were burning, her insides feeling like they were going in every direction at once. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Sorry I woke you so suddenly. I just…” She swallowed, her words failing.

Though disoriented from the abrupt awakening, Dimitri knew something had upset her. Another scare, perhaps? He rubbed his eye and did his best to focus amid the fog, reaching up to lay his hand over hers. “What troubles you, beloved? You can tell me.”

She couldn’t. She could not speak of that knot, of the cracks steadily worming into her heart, because acknowledging those sensations made them real, gave them power. “I-I’m sorry you’ve been so worn down since the party. Maybe it was a mistake.”

He furrowed his brow. “But it made you happy, didn’t it?”

She nodded. “Yes, but--”

“Then that’s all that matters.” He smiled. “And I enjoyed it too. It was quite remarkable having everyone together like that. And the baby? To think we have a great-great grandchild...I can scarcely believe I lived to see such a wonder.”

Byleth’s breath hitched, his choice of words tugging at the knot. “There will be more of them someday,” she said hopefully. “And other things to look forward to as well. Won’t it be nice to see the snow? Celebrate the solstice and your birthday?” He’d always enjoyed the solstice festivals in Fhirdiad, with the lights and decorations and ice sculptures. They’d foregone doing anything extravagant last year, but maybe she could have some of the festival recreated here this year. “We don’t have to have a big gathering again, but we can still make it special somehow.”

Dimitri sighed. It wasn’t as though he didn’t look forward to such things. He was just so incredibly tired. Back in the times when he used to train for hours and hours without stopping, he still wouldn’t feel bone tired in the same way he constantly did now. The goddess-given stamina he’d both cursed and relied on all of his life had apparently been used up, because no matter how much he rested, he couldn’t escape the weariness. The most minor things exhausted him now: eating, drinking, talking, moving, breathing. Even sleeping somehow made him feel more tired, which he knew made no sense but he’d still swear was true. It was like the very act of waking up erased any energy he might’ve regained from sleeping, plus extra.

“Dimitri?” She rubbed his hand to get his attention. The look in her eyes was pleading, if not outright desperate.

“Of course, beloved,” he said with a forced smile, but he knew he sounded unconvincing. “Whatever you wish.”

Byleth had to pull away and turn her back to him, hiccuping as the knot attempted to throttle her airway. She internally berated herself to find her control; she would not, could not fall apart in his presence, could not allow her distress to become his distress.

With a grunt of discomfort, Dimitri slowly straightened himself in his seat, parts of his body audibly creaking as he moved. “Byleth,” he entreated.

She cautiously glanced over her shoulder and saw him with his arms out as best as he could stretch them, inviting her in. The sight almost broke her, but she found the willpower to swallow her sob and settled on his lap as if pulled by a magnet. They hadn’t cuddled like this in years, both of them too stiff and rickety for it to be comfortable, but right now that didn’t matter. She looped her arms around his neck and he folded his around her, holding her as close and tightly as he could. He nuzzled against her hair, kissed her temple, and she let out a slow breath as she absorbed his comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t. Please, no more apologies.” She couldn’t bear him feeling guilty for things he had no control over. “Just...be honest. Are you...are you happy?”

“I’m always happy when I’m with you.” Though it was sincere, the response was so ingrained that to her it sounded rote.

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. It was hard to find the right words amid her roiling emotions. “I mean...are you...satisfied? Did I...have I done enough?”

It took a few moments for Dimitri’s sluggish mind to process what she was asking. Once it clicked, his arms clenched tighter around her and he clumsily searched out her lips. More than ever, his body wouldn’t move in the ways he desired, as all he could manage was a chaste kiss when he wanted it to be deep and passionate. He leaned his forehead against hers afterwards with an apologetic sigh.

“I love you,” he said. Like with the kiss, the connection between his mind and mouth wasn’t aligning quite right either, making his words sound weak to his ear. Still, he knew what he wanted to say and was determined to say it. “I love the life we have. I am grateful for it, for you, every day.” He looked her square in the eye and squeezed her upper arm so firmly it hurt. “I only got to live this life because of you, because you saved me all those years ago.” He swallowed. “I’m the one who should be asking if I’ve done enough.”

Byleth trembled, her fingers digging into him as if her grip could keep him here. “You have. You absolutely have.” She paused for strength, but instead her voice came out small and frightened, barely audible. “I can’t...I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you.”

“Beloved.” Dimitri nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing her skin. He felt her pain as if it were his own and hated that he was the cause of it. There was nothing he could do to truly soothe her, but he could at least remind her of what had always been true. “You will never lose me. My heart is yours. It always has been, and it always will be.”

A sob escaped, but only one. “If not for you, I never would’ve learned what it meant to feel,” she said. “You are my heart.”

He attempted to smile, the gesture a little crooked and sad. “Whatever happens...we have had a wonderful life together. From the bottom of my heart...thank you for all of it, Byleth. My beloved.”

They had had a wonderful life together, which was why she wanted more of it. Part of her pain stemmed from her inability to change this fate; she’d used Divine Pulse to protect him so many times during the war, but she possessed no power to stop time’s inexorable march. She kissed him gently all over his face, tasting salt on her lips, and wished she could pass some of her own life force into him, anything to keep him with her just a little longer. She blinked her tears away. “Thank you too, Dimitri...for everything. I’m glad we’ve lived this life together.”

She settled against him with a sniffle and tried to clear her thoughts of everything but him; the sounds of his heartbeat and breathing, the solid warmth of his body, his arms encircling her, all of the things that made her feel safe and assured her she was where she belonged. He nuzzled her hair again and gripped her hand, their fingers automatically twining, and breathed in her scent, savored the feel of her in his arms. Though he fought to stay awake, he found himself drifting off again in the comfort of her presence.

Outside, Byleth spotted a pair of cardinals at the feeder: a bold red male and a warmly brown female. They each feasted on seeds together for a few moments, and then the male abruptly flew away. The female lingered and ate a bit longer, and then she took wing and followed after her mate.

That day was the last time Dimitri ever left his bed.

From the following day on, he was only sporadically awake, and even then he wasn’t lucid, doing little more than grunting in annoyance when the attendants repositioned or cleaned him or when Byleth tried to get him to eat or drink. When he spoke words, he mostly complained of being tired or mumbled nonsense about work he needed to do or a meeting he was late for. Sometimes he babbled about battalion formations and the advancing Imperial army. One time he spoke of his father as if Lambert were actually there in the room.

Logically, Byleth knew what was happening, but her heart refused to acknowledge the truth. She held fast to a belief that Dimitri would awaken as himself again, that there was a chance for her to have one more conversation with him, one more afternoon tea, one more loving embrace.

One more time where he’d look at her and call her his beloved.

His rest wasn’t always peaceful. He’d twitch or spasm in a way that was distressing to watch, with odd vibrations going through his limbs and fingers that had no thought or reason behind them, as if his body were working to expel every reserve of its energy. Often the movements were accompanied by moans or noises that sounded anguished, less like he was in pain and more like he was afraid. Like he was wandering lost somewhere and couldn’t find his way out. It was far worse than any of his night terrors she’d witnessed over the years. Each of his cries was a stab to her body, and made her instinctively squeeze his hand and whisper reassurances in his ear that she was there. His fingers didn’t always close around hers, but as long as she persisted in soothing him, he would eventually quiet and go still.

As a result, Byleth refused to leave his side, taking up a near permanent place in a chair by his bed and barely eating or sleeping, with her hand almost always affixed to his. As the days passed, he slept more and more until he stopped waking at all, his thready breaths the only indication that he was still clinging to life. She got angry when she overheard whispered speculation between the clerics and her children of how much longer he had, and she got even angrier if anyone suggested, however gently, that she relinquish her vigil.

“Mother, please,” Nadia tried to reason with her at one point. “You need your rest too. I will stay with him and I promise I will inform you if there’s the slightest change.”

Byleth shook her head. “I’m all right.”

“Mother--”

“No.” She summoned the long dormant glare of the Ashen Demon. “I’m not leaving him.” Byleth knew none of them really understood. They weren’t thinking about the war, of the five years she’d lost at the bottom of a canyon when she should’ve been at Dimitri’s side. They weren’t thinking about how he spent those same five years in exile, wandering and fighting, and if not for the mercy of the Goddess he very well might’ve died in some random battle or even in a gutter, cold and scared and alone.

Byleth would not leave his side this time. She would hold his hand and pet his hair, whisper words of comfort to him, and make sure that he was not alone. She would give him every last drop of her love because he deserved nothing less.

It was a cold, blustery day in the Wyvern Moon when Byleth, half asleep in her chair, was startled awake by Dimitri crying out and making more violent motions than any he had previously. He flailed his right arm like he was trying to stab at something, and his body spasmed with so much force that he came perilously close to falling out of bed. His Crest even flared, something she hadn’t seen in months. She summoned Marie to help with getting him resettled, and they both almost got slapped in the face in the process.

“Do something!” Byleth said urgently as she grabbed both of his hands.

Marie cast another healing spell, as she’d been doing periodically all along. As the white light flowed into his body, Dimitri cried out again, his arms jerking like he was trying to escape from Byleth’s grip.

“I’m sorry, Milady,” Marie said. “I’m doing what I can to keep him comfortable, but you know healing magic only works on physical ailments, and I believe it is His Majesty’s mind that is the source of his distress.”

“I can’t…” Byleth made a wet sound, her soul feeling like it was about to crumble. She sank onto the bed. “Please...I can’t bear this…!” Watching him suffer this way was torture, enough that she was on the verge of wishing for the inevitable to hurry up and come so he would be at peace.

“I’m so sorry.” Marie’s brow pinched. “All I can suggest is that you keep talking to him, Milady. It’s likely he can still hear you, and I know your presence is a comfort to him.” She turned towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Byleth nodded and dug for her resolve. “Dimitri.” She squeezed both of his hands as hard as she could. He moaned again, the muscles in his arms tightening. She pressed some of her weight against him in an effort to halt his twitching. “Dimitri, it’s OK. You’re safe.”

She maintained a grip on his left hand and used the other to stroke his hair and face while softly humming to him, yet it had no effect. He made another distressed noise and tried to pull away from her. The cracks worming through her heart widened. Could he no longer feel her touch? Hear her voice? There had to be some way to get him to recognize her presence, but what was left for her to try?

Out of desperation, she conjured what little power she could to cast a weak healing spell. Barely more than a flicker of light gathered around her left hand and passed to him through their joined hands. Dimitri made a startled snort through a wheezy, sluggish breath. A shudder traveled down his body and then his eye slowly opened for the first time in days. His head lilted towards her and he blinked a few times, his pupil dilating. A moment later, the corners of his mouth curled upwards the slightest fraction.

Byleth’s breath hitched. At first she thought it was a trick of her mind, but then his hand weakly clenched around hers and his thumb anemically rubbed across her skin. Something in her chest felt ready to explode. She cupped his cheek. “Dimitri?”

“...Beloved?” Dimitri’s voice was faint and reedy, but the word was clear all the same.

A sob lodged in her throat and it was only through sheer force of will that she didn’t burst into tears. “Yes…! Yes, I’m here, Dimitri! I’m right here.”

His smile grew, enough to make it unmistakably deliberate. His right arm twitched as he tried to lift it, but he couldn’t muster the strength. Instead, his left hand gripped hers a little more firmly. His eye was the clearest she’d seen it since their last teatime, looking at her with all of the love and affection she knew so well.

Byleth kissed his forehead and then leaned her own against his. “I love you,” she said in a wobbly voice. To her dismay, some tears escaped; she didn’t want to give him any reason for concern. “I love you so much, Dimitri. So very much.”

“Beloved...” he repeated, softer than a whisper. She pulled away to see his eye again, and she could tell there was more he wished to say, but he either couldn’t form the words or lacked the strength to voice them. It didn’t matter. One word could speak multitudes.

“It’s OK,” she murmured. “I know you’re tired. You can sleep. I’ll stay right here. I promise.” She kissed him on the lips; his mouth quivered in a futile effort to return it, but it was enough. He stared at her with the same loving gaze for a few moments, moisture shimmering over it, and he swept his thumb across her hand a couple more times. She stroked his face and he leaned into her touch before his eye fell closed once again.

Byleth laid herself beside him, nestling her head under his chin, her hand still tightly gripping his. Dimitri sighed contentedly into her hair, his weight settling against her. His grip on her hand went slack. She shut her eyes and focused on his warmth, on the sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear. Despite the tightness in her chest and throat, something deeper within her felt soothed, like an ache she hadn’t previously noticed was now gone. She draped her other arm around him and dozed, thinking of all the times in her life she’d fallen asleep just like this, how safe and right it was and had always been.

It wasn’t much later before her reverie was broken by Dimitri making a faint gasping, croaking noise. He let out a raggedy breath right as she heard his heartbeat go silent. His body sank further into the bed and his hand felt heavier in her grip. Byleth raised herself enough to look at his face. She called his name, jostled him in search of any reaction, but even as she did, she already knew. Nadia, Fabian, Tristan, and Cleo had entered the room at some unknown point and one glance at them confirmed that they understood as well.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the Savior King of Fódlan, had passed away.

The flimsy dam holding back her emotions collapsed. Byleth buried her face against his chest and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. The cracks that’d been forming in her stone heart over the last few days, weeks, months, expanded until she swore she felt it shatter inside her ribcage. She distantly heard the others weeping beside her. Nadia and Tristan said their own heartbroken goodbyes to their father in between their tears. They kissed him and held his right hand, and they and her in-laws patted her shoulder and rubbed her back as they offered comforting words to her that she didn’t absorb. It all felt like a moment removed from time or reality, like the pain in her body was the only thing keeping her soul tethered to this world.

Byleth didn’t know how long she stayed like that, clutching Dimitri and crying without end, as if her tears could bring him back to life. Her children and in-laws eventually left the room and shortly after a group of clerics led by Marie entered. They stood to the side in silent, respectful patience. They lit candles when darkness began to creep into the chamber, and none of them spoke a word until Byleth finally disentangled herself from Dimitri’s arms and rose from the bed.

“We’ll take care of him for you, Milady,” Marie said with a nod. She had a soft, linen-wrapped parcel in her arms. It was tied with a blue ribbon embossed with the Crest of Blaiddyd. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Thank you.” Byleth nodded back as she wiped tears off her face with her sleeve. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

“Please, take all the time you need,” said Marie. “We will wait until you’re ready.”

Byleth paused, taking a deep breath to try and steady herself. She took Dimitri’s hand again, irrationally hoping his fingers would curl around hers once more. She held it against her face, kissed his knuckles, and then turned the ring on his finger so the gems were properly displayed. For a brief moment, she considered taking it to keep, but the idea vanished right after it manifested. He’d hardly taken it off from the moment they’d proposed to each other so long ago, just as she’d done with his ring. It needed to stay with him.

She still wasn’t sure she was truly ready to leave him, but staying here wasn’t appealing either. She didn’t want to watch him grow cold or for the feeling of his lifeless body to interfere with her memories of his warm embrace. After a pause, she gently set down his hand and then pulled up the covers and tucked them around him just as she’d done every night since they’d started sleeping in separate beds. Another sob escaped her throat as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, and then she nodded again at the clerics and swiftly left the room.

Tristan was waiting in the hallway, his expression solemn and his eyes bloodshot. They exchanged a knowing look and then she fell into his arms and clung to him for several moments. “Isabeau is on her way,” he said softly.

Byleth nodded as she pulled away. Only now did she realize how much she’d neglected; she’d been so focused on being with Dimitri, she hadn’t even thought of communicating with her other children or any kingdom officials. “What about Étienne?”

“An envoy just arrived from Fhirdiad.” Tristan handed her a missive, one printed on heavy parchment emblazoned with the Kingdom’s seal. “This is Étienne’s official edict. It’s to be released to the public pending your approval.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she unfurled it. It was penned entirely in Étienne’s elegant handwriting, the lettering so perfect that she knew he must have copied and re-copied it several times to make it so.

It is with great sorrow that I must announce the passing of His Majesty King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, my honored and beloved father. Though he now rests in the loving arms of the Goddess, he leaves a legacy that will live long beyond him. He came to the throne at a turbulent time, and dedicated himself to healing a continent ravaged by war. From the ashes of tragedy he built up a newly expanded Holy Kingdom that has become more prosperous than ever before. He made peace and forged friendships with our neighbors in Sreng, Almyra and Brigid, reconciled with our brothers and sisters in Duscur, and made his most cherished and transformative reform in the creation of our parliament system, fulfilling his lifelong dream of giving a greater voice to the common people. All of Faerghus grieves the loss of a magnificent king, a lion amongst men, but my family also grieves the loss of a loving husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather and, as of this summer, great-great grandfather. He leaves behind a void that is impossible for anyone to fill, but I hereby vow to do everything in my power to continue his work and to lead Faerghus with the same wise and steady hand he did. I remain ever the Kingdom’s humble servant.

Signed,

His Royal Highness Étienne Reus Blaiddyd

It was a struggle to get through reading the whole thing. The part about Dimitri ‘resting in the arms of the Goddess’ in particular set her off again and she had to pause until she could get her tears back under control. Tristan kneaded her shoulder as he patiently waited.

“It’s beautiful,” she sniffed when she finally finished. “I can’t believe he wrote this so quickly.”

“I think he started working on it as soon as he left the party.” At her confused look, Tristan sighed. “We discussed it briefly, the four of us. We could tell Father didn’t have much time left.”

Goddess, had she really been so blind? It wasn’t as though Byleth had been in denial about Dimitri’s declining health, but she hadn’t grappled with what that meant until she’d been forced to confront it over the last few days. She hadn’t seen the signs because she hadn’t wanted to see them, hadn’t wanted to consider what was coming. A sense of failure oozed into her veins. Her refusal to accept the hard truth had forced her children to do it in her stead. She leaned her head into Tristan’s chest, suddenly feeling weak and exhausted. He wrapped his arms around her again.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s OK, Mother,” he said. “It was important that you be with Father, so we did what we could to help. It’s partly why I stayed.”

Byleth wiped her eyes. The fragments of her heart ached with gratitude at how her children looked out for her, even as they were preparing to lose their father. “Thank you.”

He took back the missive and tucked it into his cassock. “I’ll get this out right away,” he said. “Nadia spoke with the envoy already, but I guess he has stuff to talk about with you. He’s over by your door, but I’ll send him away if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you.” She swallowed the rest of her tears and walked down the hallway to her chambers. Sure enough, there was a man waiting for her. He was middle aged with thick-rimmed glasses and gray streaks in his dusty brown hair, and he was wearing a formal kingdom uniform, complete with a white sash designating him as an official of some sort. She thought she’d met every prominent diplomat in Fódlan, but she’d never seen this man before.

The man bowed at her approach. “Queen Byleth. It is an honor to finally meet you, Your Majesty, though I wish it were under better tidings.” His eyes were sad as he straightened. “I just heard about His Majesty’s passing from the Archbishop. You have my sincerest condolences. We have all lost a king among kings, but you have lost someone far greater.” He put a hand to his chest. “My name is Eugene Ronan Brennius. His Majesty appointed me as the minister of his last rites.”

“Oh.” Byleth felt something swirl in her chest, a feeling she couldn’t quite place. Relief, perhaps. It’d never occurred to her that there was a designated official for her husband’s funeral arrangements, but then again, Dimitri had never mentioned it. “Did someone send for you?”

“In a sense,” Eugene said. “The Archbishop sent an express message to Fhirdiad a few days ago speaking of His Majesty’s ‘imminent’ passing, and so His Highness dispatched me to personally deliver his edict as well as perform my assigned duties when they were needed.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I did not arrive sooner. There is much we must speak of, but it need not be at this moment. If you need to rest first, I am content to wait.”

“Now is fine,” Byleth said as she pushed open her door. “I think I’d rather get this over with.”

Eugene followed her inside and waited for her to direct him to the table and chairs. Then he took the file folder from under his arm and laid out its contents into several orderly piles. “These contain the basic outline of His Majesty’s arrangements. Most of it is traditional Faerghus protocol for the royal family. If there are any specific things you or your children would like to include, I will see to it that they are added.”

She hesitated a moment before picking up the first paper in the leftmost pile. When she realized it detailed the measurements for his coffin, she flipped it over and pressed it back against the table. The mental image of Dimitri lying in a closed, dark box almost sent her into another crying fit. “Sorry,” she said through the lump in her throat.

“It’s all right, Your Majesty,” Eugene said kindly. He picked up that pile of papers and put them back in the file. “You don’t really need to look those documents over; they’re merely a record of his casket being commissioned and the receipts from the craftsmen. Part of my job was to see it built and keep it safe until the proper time.”

“Oh.” Byleth wiped her eyes again and something dawned on her. “You mean he arranged all of this?”

“Most of it, yes. I met with him several years ago, near the time of his unofficial retirement, and we went over the process.” Eugene paused, studying her blank face. “He...wasn’t terribly receptive to my inquiries, at least not until I mentioned how much it would ease your burden if he settled at least some of the arrangements himself.”

Byleth made a noise that was a mixture of a snort and a sob, because of course her dear, sweet husband would only be willing to plan his own funeral if he thought it was for her benefit. Eugene had a puzzled look on his face at her reaction, unsure if she was laughing or crying. She wasn’t sure either. She apologized again as she wiped her nose with her sleeve, which prompted him to sheepishly offer her a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Are you certain you wish to continue with this now?” he asked.

“Yes.” She took the handkerchief and blew her nose. “This won’t be any easier tomorrow.”

“I suppose you may be right on that front. Still, we can stop at any time, Your Majesty. Just say the word.”

“I appreciate that. Please, go on.”

Eugene nodded. “You’re free to inspect the casket if you wish and see if it is to your liking. It’s currently downstairs with the carriage. I also brought his chosen burial vestments and took the liberty of giving them to the clerics tending to him. If there’s anything you’d personally like to include in his ensemble, let me know.”

Byleth shook her head. “Just his ring. It’s...still on his finger.”

He rubbed his chin. “I presume you mean the silver one with the purple gems?” She nodded and he smiled. “I remember it well. I commented on how unusual it was when I met with His Majesty. He sounded like a young man newly in love when he told me the ring was from you.” He paused, a bit of red encroaching on his cheeks. “Ah...forgive me if I’m speaking improperly. I have long heard tales of your courtship and marriage to His Majesty, the unusual nature of it as well as how devoted you were to each other. I suppose a part of me doubted such a passionate love could exist outside of storybooks, but listening to him that day...it was clear to me that if anything, the stories have understated the depths of his feelings for you.”

She smiled sadly, twisting her own ring around her finger. The emerald winked at her as it caught the light. “It’s mutual.”

They went over the specifics of the funeral as they were currently constructed. Dimitri would be transported to Camulus, where he would lie in state at the cathedral for three days so that the public could come pay their respects. There was a note in his own hand that anyone who wanted to visit should be allowed, no matter their nationality or station. After, there would be a funeral service at the cathedral in the traditions of the Church of Seiros for Faerghus royalty.

“It’s traditional for the Archbishop to lead the service,” Eugene said. “His Majesty did not specifically request that, however. I suspect he did not wish to force a burden upon your daughter.”

“I’ll leave the decision to her,” Byleth said. “If she does not want to do it herself, I’ll help her find someone.”

Eugene nodded. “After the funeral, there will be a procession to the royal cemetery in Fhirdiad, and he wished to be interred beside his father. I trust you’re agreeable to that?”

She nodded, then paused and shifted in her seat. “...Will there be space for me next to him?”

“Of course,” Eugene replied with a reassuring smile. “Rare is the royal couple that is buried apart.”

Byleth sighed in relief. “That’s...good.” It seemed a strange thing to say, since she hadn’t contemplated these kinds of details much at all. As a former archbishop, and with her parents’ grave being here, it perhaps might be more appropriate for her to be buried at Garreg Mach. But she was also queen consort of Faerghus, and Fhirdiad had always been Dimitri’s home. As special as the monastery was to her, in her mind, her true home was wherever he was. It was a small comfort to know her earthly remains would forever be where they belonged.

Eugene rifled through a few more papers. “His Majesty did not specify how he wished to be transported to Camulus.”

“Does that matter?” she asked.

He fidgeted with his hands. “King Lambert’s untimely death, combined with the upheaval surrounding it, meant that his final rites did not follow all traditional royal protocols. The records say he did lie in state for three days before his funeral and burial, but that seemed to be the extent of it. The usual protocol is for a procession to travel across the Kingdom to give citizens in more outlying areas an opportunity to pay their respects.”

Byleth shuddered at the thought of Dimitri’s body being paraded across Faerghus for possibly weeks or even months on end given that the Kingdom’s borders now encompassed all of Fódlan. She couldn’t imagine he’d want such a fuss made of him either. “Did you say anything about that to him?”

“He dismissed it outright,” Eugene said. “He seemed content with adhering to what was done for King Lambert and nothing more.”

She paused, considering this. Dimitri would never have desired to be perceived as upstaging his father, and she didn’t want to undermine his wishes, but he’d ruled for far longer and accomplished far more than his father had. It was not a fair comparison. Her husband had more than earned his own place in history and he should be recognized for it.

“Could we do an official procession just from here to Camulus?” she asked, realizing it was the exact compromise she would’ve suggested had Dimitri asked for her opinion.

“Certainly.” Eugene brightened. “With your permission, I will consult with a cartographer and draw up a route. We can then release the planned route to the public so that people may gather as they please.”

“Yes, that sounds appropriate.” Her mouth twitched like her instincts wanted to smile, but it wouldn’t come out. “Thank you.”

He wrote a few notes on one of the papers before tucking it back into his file. “The last matter is that of His Majesty’s monument. I’m afraid he didn’t make any specifics about that either. He seemed to think a slab of stone with his name was sufficient.”

“D—His Majesty is, was, a very humble man,” Byleth said, her tongue thick as it stumbled on the words. “He was never comfortable with garish displays in his honor.”

“Yes, that was my impression,” Eugene said. “But since he made no request, that means the decision is yours, Your Majesty. I can contact any number of craftsmen or masons to make whatever kind of monument you desire.”

“I’d like to confer with our children about it,” she said. “Does the monument have to be ready in time for the burial?”

“It’s generally preferred, but it’s not unusual for the monument to be placed weeks or even months after the burial.” Eugene chuckled uneasily. “Winter up north has a way of forcing everyone to work according to its schedule.”

She forced a small smile. “Of course.”

Eugene asked her a few more questions about the funeral, scribbling some more notes on his various papers before putting everything back into his folder. He bowed and again offered his condolences before taking his leave.

Byleth slumped in her chair, taking several moments to just breathe. Exhaustion abruptly overtook her. Her emotions were still all over the place, impossible to parse or process, but her body was spent, stiff and wrung out like an old cloth left to calcify on the drying line. Even leaving the chair and undressing felt like an insurmountable task. She was forced to summon an aid to assist her, and the young cleric awkwardly tried to make small talk as she helped Byleth out of her clothes and into her night shift. She offered to have a meal sent up, but Byleth shook her head and dismissed the woman with a wave of her hand. She did not want to think or speak or eat or do anything except crawl into bed.

Though she’d gotten used to sleeping alone over the last few years, Byleth’s bed had never felt so empty. As she laid there in the dark waiting for sleep to claim her, a single thought blared loudly in her mind, one that sent new waves of pain through the shattered remains of her heart. She buried her face in her pillow and cried softly, because tomorrow, for the first time in nearly seventy years, she would wake up to a world in which Dimitri was no longer a part of it.

Chapter Text

The following days passed in a whirlwind as preparations were made. Express messages came in and went out at a dizzying pace as plans were proposed, reviewed and finalized, and a bevy of official correspondence was exchanged between Garreg Mach and Fhirdiad to ensure church and state were in agreement on every procedure. Eugene handled the majority of it; he brought the things he couldn’t sign off on himself to Byleth and she barely looked them over before scrawling her signature on them. The piddly details of the funeral didn’t matter much to her. Some of them seemed needlessly tedious, such as the seating arrangement for the service or what kinds of flowers should decorate the Camulus cathedral. Why did any of those things matter when Dimitri couldn’t see them?

Isabeau, harried and exhausted from an expedited journey from Aegir territory, arrived at Garreg Mach on a pegasus just as word of Dimitri’s death was spreading to the masses, and she reported that mourners were already on their way to the monastery from the south. With that news, Eugene made the suggestion of placing Dimitri’s coffin in the cathedral until the procession to Camulus could be finalized. While her children readily agreed, Byleth hesitated. In her heart he’d always been her husband before he was anyone’s king, and a selfish part of her had long resented how she’d always had to share him. Just once she wanted to indulge that selfishness and keep him for herself rather than give him to the public yet again.

But of course she couldn’t. Dimitri belonged to Faerghus just as much as Faerghus belonged to Dimitri. Though her grief was of a more intimate nature, the people’s grief was no less valid or important. They deserved the chance to express that grief, and Dimitri deserved to be mourned by the people he’d dedicated his life to serving. She was confident he would’ve felt the same way, so despite her initial reluctance, she assented.

Even after making the agreement, Byleth couldn’t bring herself to go into the cathedral at first. She left Nadia in charge of coordinating everything with Eugene and his assistants, and while they worked, Byleth lingered outside by the well gazing at the Goddess Tower. The whole situation was surreal, not quite like a dream but parallel to one. She felt more in control when she could separate herself from the heaviest anchors to reality, which was why she’d only glanced at the coffin when it’d first been unloaded. It was elegant but understated, polished mahogany with silver filigree along the edges and the Kingdom’s coat of arms and the Crest of Blaiddyd embossed in silver on the lid. Eugene told her it was a replica of Lambert’s, but that information just made her more numb.

“Mom?” Isabeau, eyes red and puffy, came outside. “Everything’s ready. You should come in before the doors open to the public.”

Byleth clenched her hands into the folds of her black mourning gown, expedited by the clerics most skilled in sewing. Another thing she hadn’t prepared herself to need. She shook her head. She couldn’t go in, couldn’t look, couldn’t have the finality of the image of Dimitri lying inside that box scorched into her brain.

Isabeau knelt beside her and took her hand. “Why?”

Byleth gripped her hand back so firmly that Isabeau flinched. “...I can’t. I...I can’t see him like that.”

“I thought so too,” Isabeau offered. “But I think it helped.” She paused. “He looks peaceful, Mom.”

Byleth’s breath shook. Isabeau gave her hand a gentle tug and Byleth found herself rising and making a slow walk into the cathedral with her head down. Once they’d crossed the threshold, she clung to her daughter’s arm. “Stay.”

“Of course.”

Nadia and Fabian soon appeared beside them and Nadia took her other arm. Byleth’s body had never felt so unsteady as she trod past the familiar rows of pews towards the pulpit. She counted the floor tiles: three, five, ten, twenty, automatically following her daughters’ steps until they came to a halt. Nadia had a hand on her back and rubbed a circle, Isabeau squeezed her hand again. She could see Tristan and Cleo’s backs as they knelt before the coffin praying. They rose a few moments later and came to join them.

“We’re here with you, Mother,” Tristan said softly as he wiped his tears away. “It’s OK.”

Byleth took several slow breaths to gird herself, as if she were preparing to jump into a battle. The center of her chest felt simultaneously cold and hot, her blood like sludge in her veins. She kept her eyes shut as she raised her head, took another deep breath, and then finally looked.

It wasn’t what she’d expected, and she didn’t know what exactly she’d been expecting in the first place. The clerics had done amazing work preparing him. His beard was perfectly trimmed, his hair tidied and styled in his signature half-tail, his bangs still a bit messy but shortened just enough to keep them out of his face. He was dressed in her favorite of all of his formal coats, one that was a deeper blue than his others, trimmed with curlicues of silver thread with a matching double tiered mantle trimmed with pure white fur and more silver thread. A woven silver circlet studded with tiny blue jewels adorned his brow. She remembered complimenting him on that ensemble whenever he wore it, thinking he looked particularly handsome in it.

Preservation magics had returned color to his complexion, and that combined with the precise grooming and his elegant clothes expertly masked how frail and sickly he’d become over the last few months. From this spot, she could’ve been fooled into thinking he was still in good health and merely sleeping; it was only the eerie stillness of his form that ultimately broke the illusion.

The light caught the purple gems of her ring, a bit of wire wrapped around the inside of it to keep it straight on his finger. It was like a beacon. She let go of her daughters and closed the distance to him. Her whole arm trembled as she reached for him, hesitating for a beat before letting her hand fall to where his were folded at his waist.

Cold.

Everything shimmered and melted in her vision, her legs feeling weak. “...Oh my heart…” she murmured. Her sobs were a thousand times louder in the cathedral, reverberating with such power that they ricocheted back to her and further crushed her soul. This was wrong. He should be out here at her side. She should be wrapped in his warm arms. She traced her thumb along the edge of his eyepatch, foolishly wishing for a miracle, for his eye to suddenly open and for him to rise up and embrace her again. For all of this to be nothing more than a bad dream.

He strangely did look very peaceful, even moreso than when he’d passed. He had to be at peace now, didn’t he? No longer was he plagued by nightmares or restless thoughts, he’d never have another sleepless night or argument with his ghosts, and he wasn’t suffering through the pain of his aching bones and fading memory. Perhaps asking him to wake up was cruel, and instead she should crawl into the coffin and join him in his eternal slumber. It frightened her how enticing that idea sounded. There was room enough for her. Why shouldn’t she lie in his arms forever?

The dark turn to her thoughts startled her out of her trance and Byleth abruptly stepped back from the coffin. She drew in a long, loud sniffle and wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve. Isabeau approached to touch her arm, but Byleth jumped back at the contact.

“I can’t be here right now,” she muttered past the lump in her throat. “I’ll be outside.”

“I’ll go with you,” Isabeau said.

Byleth shook her head. “I need a moment. Please.” She turned and briskly walked out through the main entrance. She slowed her pace at the bridge, especially when she met the line of people steadily filing towards the cathedral. Once across, she took the turn to the monastery’s cemetery, only stopping when she reached the shared grave belonging to Jeralt and Sitri.

Byleth stared at the stone, her eyes skimming over the familiar inscription. She hadn’t visited in awhile, focused on her living family rather than the mother she’d never met and the father who’d taken so many secrets to his grave that she wondered if she’d ever known him at all. But she had frequently come here as Archbishop when she was contemplating big decisions and needed a quiet place to think. For as absent as her parents had been in her life, she still found solace here, like vestiges of their presence lingered near this stone.

And of course, she’d stood in this very spot many years ago when she’d made the second most consequential choice of her life, right after her choice to teach the Blue Lions. She’d come here the night before the army had left for its final march to Enbarr and had decided that once they’d secured victory and ended the war, she would ask Dimitri to marry her. To ask him to stay by her side forever because she could not imagine spending her life anywhere else. Little did she know he’d been in the cathedral that night making the same decision.

“Your kind, warm hands... May they cling to my own forevermore...”

She looked down at her ring, remembered the moment he’d slid it onto her finger and how she’d never felt so warm and happy and complete prior to then. And everything that’d come after, from their wedding, to the births of their children, to their shared work in reforming and rebuilding Fódlan, to the simple, intimate moments they’d had when the eyes of the world weren’t watching, all of it had proven to be more than anything she’d ever imagined she’d experience back when she was the Ashen Demon.

Dimitri had always been honest with her, but it turned out he’d unintentionally lied that night at the Goddess Tower. His hand was not going to cling to hers forevermore, because he’d gone and left her behind. How could her sweet, loving husband do something so cruel? The tears fell again as she rubbed the ring and tried to recall the sensation of his hand interlocked with her own, but the memory was hollow knowing she would never feel that warmth again.

“Byleth.”

She whirled at the voice, her already tight throat constricting further when she saw the three cloaked figures approaching her. She immediately fell into their arms, burying her face in Rhea’s shoulder and letting her sobs come freely.

“We came as soon as we heard,” Seteth said as he wrapped an arm around Byleth’s shoulders. “I can well imagine how you must feel. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“I can hardly believe it is true,” Flayn said with a sniffle as she squeezed Byleth’s waist. “Dimitri was always so kind to me...I had hoped to see him again, but it seems I took for granted that there was more time.”

“It h-h-hurts…” Byleth whimpered.

Rhea stroked her hair. “I wish there were words that could soothe you. He was a good man and he was good to you. I’m so sorry, Byleth.”

They stayed like that, clustered in a group hug as Byleth cried. It helped a little, just knowing they had come to support and comfort her; the three of them were the closest thing she had to blood family aside from her children, and they understood her in much the same way Dimitri had.

“Thank you for coming,” she said through a sniffle.

“Of course,” Rhea said. “We wanted to be here for you, even if only briefly.”

Seteth nodded. “We intend to maintain a low profile, but we wanted to express our condolences, as well as pay our respects to Dimitri.” He sighed. “It is never easy to say farewell to a good friend.”

“I still remember his facial expression when he truly tasted my cooking for the first time,” Flayn said with a small laugh. “Dedue admonished me for nearly poisoning him.”

Byleth almost smiled. Poor Dimitri had been sick for three days after that. Apparently he’d lost his immunity to Flayn’s lethal cooking once he could actually taste it, a lesson he’d had to learn the hard way about a few other foods too.

“Cyril sends his regards as well,” Flayn added. “He wished to come, but I am afraid traveling is rather hard for him now.”

“That’s OK,” Byleth said. “I’m glad to know he’s been with you.”

“I presume all of your children are here?” Seteth asked.

“Étienne is in Fhirdiad,” Byleth said. “The funeral will be in Camulus. I told him to meet us there.” She tipped her head. “Can you come with us?”

The three of them looked between each other. “It could be difficult to make the journey while remaining under cover,” Seteth said.

Rhea smiled sympathetically. “Would you like us to?”

The answer was yes, but Byleth didn’t want them to compromise their safety for her sake either. There were still people about who might recognize them and question why they hadn’t aged. She took a deep breath, thinking of how she’d had a similar feeling when Seteth and Flayn had left Garreg Mach years ago. “I understand if you’d rather not. Do what you need to do.”

“We appreciate your graciousness, Byleth.” Seteth gave her a tiny, mournful smile. He noted that she was still gripping Rhea’s hand, and looked to Flayn. “Flayn and I will go on ahead. You can meet us inside when you’re ready.”

Rhea nodded. Flayn gave Byleth another hug. “We will return to say goodbye before we depart.”

“Thank you,” Byleth said, squeezing her back. “It means a lot that you came, both to me and Dimitri.”

She watched them leave and then turned back to the gravestone. Rhea patiently loitered at her side, looking down at the stone as well.

“How much longer do you think I’ll live?” Byleth asked. She put her other hand over her chest, thinking of the Crest Stone embedded within her.

“I’m afraid I cannot answer that,” Rhea said. “There has never been anyone else like you, but you are mortal. That much is certain.” She squeezed Byleth’s hand. “Does that frighten you?”

Byleth shook her head. “I’m frightened I may have to live many more years without him.”

Rhea’s brow pinched. She rubbed Byleth’s hand with her thumb. “I do not envy your burden. To lose someone so precious...moving on from that pain can feel impossible.”

“I think it broke,” Byleth said as she curled her fingers against her chest. “That moment when...when he stopped breathing...I felt something shatter inside me.”

“I’m sure it seemed that way,” Rhea said. “That’s usually how it is. Think back to how you felt when you lost Jeralt and all the friends you’ve lost since then.”

“No, this is different,” Byleth insisted. “This is…I can feel the shards.” She swallowed, her voice only a whisper. “It hurts so much.”

She remembered how much it’d hurt when her father died, when he was stolen from her. It’d been awful and painful, but it wasn’t like this. Even when that wound was fresh, she’d still had some awareness that the pain would eventually ebb, especially after Dimitri and Sothis had given her words of encouragement. To some extent, Jeralt had represented her past, one that she wasn’t keen to return to after finding purpose as a teacher, and that had made it a little easier to move forward from his death. But this? Ever since the day they’d met, Dimitri had been the foundation upon which everything else stood. He was her first friend, her best friend, her lover and husband, the father of her children, her partner in all things. He was past, present and future, the sun to her moon. A world without him was a world she couldn’t recognize, so how could she ever move forward?

“I see,” Rhea said. She doubted the stone was truly broken, but to argue the point would be a cruel dismissal of Byleth’s pain.

“I’m sorry,” Byleth sniffled. “It’s worthless to you if it’s broken.”

Rhea shook her head. “I have no intention of using it again.”

Byleth’s eyebrows went up. Years ago, upon learning the full truth of her origins, she’d offered Rhea the option of taking back the Crest Stone after her eventual death. At the time, Rhea hadn’t committed to an answer, simply thanking her for her consideration, but Byleth had always assumed she would want it back.

“I have had much to ponder over these years,” Rhea said. “And I have realized the folly of my past actions. No matter how badly I wish to see my mother again, I accept that it is impossible.” She smiled sadly. “I believe her spirit still lives, watching over all of us. This world you built with Dimitri...I think she had a small hand in it too.”

Byleth supposed that was technically true, given the power Sothis had given her. She too believed that Sothis’ spirit still existed in some capacity, but there had been many points in Byleth’s life where she’d wished to hear Sothis’ voice again and had heard only silence. She’d begged for her to speak again just last night and again she’d heard nothing. If Sothis’ spirit was still out there, she was either unwilling or unable to make her presence known.

“So no, I will not take back the Crest Stone, not even to return it to the Sword of the Creator,” Rhea said. “With everything you’ve accomplished, I think it is more fitting for it to remain with you.”

Byleth kneaded her fingers against her chest. “I want to be buried with him in Fhirdiad. Is that OK?”

Rhea nodded. “Do what your heart desires. When the day comes that you are laid to rest, I promise I will visit you wherever you are.”

“Thank you.” Byleth’s eyes watered again and Rhea pulled her into another embrace. They stayed like that for a time as Byleth quietly wept and absorbed her comfort.

“I am here for you always,” Rhea said. “And no matter what happens, we will keep watch over your children, grandchildren, and all of your descendants for as long as we are able.”

“Thank you,” Byleth said again. It did put her somewhat at ease to know Rhea, Seteth and Flayn would continue to look out for her children, even if only from afar.

When they parted, Rhea kissed her forehead and then headed to the cathedral. Byleth remained in the cemetery for awhile, until the sounds of the crowd heading to the bridge became too much and she left the area entirely.

The dozens of mourners descending on Garreg Mach quickly swelled to hundreds. Nadia had her hands full trying to keep everything orderly as the monastery turned into a constant stream of people coming and going from the cathedral that seemed unending. A rotation of knights guarded Dimitri’s body at all hours so the doors could always be open to accommodate the pilgrimages. Many people left flowers or other tokens and these had to be periodically removed lest they overrun the pulpit.

For the most part, Byleth stayed away from the cathedral while this was going on, but she did loiter by one of the side entrances one afternoon and watched the line of people for a time. They were all peasants, some of them so poor they didn’t have shoes. It was incredible to think that despite the hardship of it, they’d still made the journey here to see Dimitri. Many of them openly wept, sometimes outright sobbing. Dozens of them knelt by his coffin and prayed for so long that one of the knights would have to ask them to move aside to allow others to come forward.

At first, the sight of all of these strangers grieving her husband had no effect on her mood, but the longer Byleth watched, the more her chest ached at seeing how truly beloved he was by the people. She wished he could see it for himself; Dimitri had never stopped feeling unworthy of adulation, brushing over his many accomplishments and eternally berating himself for not accomplishing more. The people had always been first in his mind with anything he sought to do. She guessed that very few if any of these visitors had so much as glimpsed him in person while he was alive, yet still they wept for him as if he were a member of their families. As if he’d personally saved their lives.

“It’s quite a remarkable sight, isn’t it?”

Byleth startled at the voice and turned to see an elderly priest at her side. She recognized him as someone she’d seen around the monastery, but she’d never exchanged anything more than a polite nod or greeting with him. She tipped her head as she scrutinized him. “Do I know you?”

The priest smiled gently and bowed to her. “Forgive my intrusion. We have not spoken in a long time, Your Majesty, not since you were still the Archbishop. My name is Camiel.”

“Ah.” The name was vaguely familiar, but it was impossible to remember every single member of the clergy whom had served under her by name or face. She thought a little harder as she tried to place him. “Are you one of the residents here?”

“I am now,” Camiel said. “I was posted in many different places throughout the years, but Her Grace was kind enough to invite me back so I could spend my remaining time at the closest place I have to home. I arrived right around the same time you and His Majesty moved in, actually.”

“I see,” Byleth said.

“It’s been a pleasure seeing you both again, even from a distance,” Camiel continued. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember, but I often saw the two of you around the monastery back during the war. I would spot you strolling together in the evening, or watch you spar at the training grounds. I remember how you used to quietly sit in the cathedral with him when he was still in a dark place.”

Her brow furrowed. “Are you one of the orphans we used to tutor?”

“Oh no,” he said with a chuckle. “I was an orphan who grew up here, but I was barely a sprout back then; the priests wouldn’t allow me to join no matter how much I begged. I was simply a child who was eager to catch any glimpse of his hero.” At her questioning look, he blushed. “His Majesty saved my sister and I during the war. I suppose that’s reason enough for a child to keep him on a pedestal, but my admiration for him has only grown over the years with all of the good he did as king. He truly was a man of the people, as this reception clearly shows.”

Byleth’s chin dipped towards her chest, her eyes burning as familiar conflicted feelings roiled through her. Because she was proud of her husband, proud of his big heart and how he’d fulfilled his desire to be a good king who had built a better world for his people. He deserved all of their adulation and more. But they only knew Dimitri as king and knew nothing of who he was as a man. They didn’t know anything of the tremendous toll his compassion took on his soul and how his dedication to his kingly duties led to so many sleepless nights and time spent working that he otherwise could’ve spent with his family.

“Your Majesty?” Camiel bent himself so he could see her face. “I’m so sorry. To all of us out here, King Dimitri was more of a symbol, the spirit of our kingdom given human form. He was an inspiration and an aspiration, someone we admired and respected, but always from a distance. We mourn the loss of that symbol, of the hope, goodness, and stability he represented, but you and your family mourn something far more precious. Faerghus will have another king to carry on his legacy, but what you’ve lost can never be replaced.”

She nodded, drawing in a sniffle, and lifted her head. “Yes.”

“I had the honor of speaking with His Majesty a few moons back,” Camiel said.

Her eyebrows went up. She had no idea when this would’ve occurred, since she and Dimitri had only rarely spent time apart over the last few months. “You did?”

He nodded. “Aside from being a personal thrill, I was humbled to see a glimpse of the man under the crown. In many ways, he was an even better person than I imagined.”

“What did he say to you?” Byleth asked.

Camiel bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I swore an oath to keep our conversation in confidence.” He gave her a little half smile. “However...while I would not presume to understand the intricacies of your relationship, it was clear to me that his love for you was deep and abiding.”

“It’s mutual,” she said.

He nodded. “I thank you for that. It’s precisely because you loved him so well that he was able to love the people of Fódlan in return.”

Byleth didn’t immediately grasp what he meant, but her mind went back to a rainy night long ago, when she’d offered Dimitri her hand and he’d finally taken it. She remembered the whispers around the monastery back then, of how she was a fool for having faith in a boar bent on revenge and self-destruction. There were times when she’d almost believed they were right, but that moment in the rain had rewarded her resolve, had rewarded her love for him.

“I know there is nothing that can heal the wound of your loss,” Camiel said. “But I hope the love you shared with His Majesty can bring you some solace. Even though he is gone now, his love remains. It lives on in your heart and here in the world around us.” He motioned his arm towards the ever moving procession.

She wiped her eyes. Though she couldn’t feel any relief from it, she did at least appreciate the sentiment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.” He smiled sadly. “I will say a prayer for you both, that his soul be at peace and that you and your family may find comfort during this difficult time. May the grace of the Goddess be with you all.”

Byleth watched Camiel enter the cathedral. He made a blessing motion towards Dimitri’s coffin and then seated himself on one of the front row pews and bowed his head, his lips moving as he quietly recited prayers to himself. A tear on his cheek glimmered in the ethereal light. She stood there for a short while longer, watching the long line of people, before the pain once again overwhelmed her and she retreated to the monastery interior.

Aside from the overwhelming number of flowers, the tokens people left behind included homemade trinkets, ceremonial weapons, letters, children’s drawings, and even food, the latter of which was quickly distributed to the orphans or sent to Abyss. The flowers were collected into a big pile inside the Goddess Tower and the other non-food items were sorted into boxes and then brought to Nadia’s office. After four days, the stack was starting to overtake the room.

“I feel obligated to read these letters, but there’s so many,” Nadia said. “It could take months.”

Isabeau had flipped through a few of them, tears in her eyes. “This one is quite lengthy, but it’s from a woman who claims Papa saved her mother’s village during the war. This one is from the grandson of a soldier who served under him. These ones are thank yous for funds or food sent to certain villages, or for a road he had built or some policy that helped them directly.” She sniffled as she pulled out a few of the doodles. The one on top was a crude drawing of Dimitri surrounded by children and flowers. “And these? They’re so sweet...I feel they should be displayed somewhere.”

“These other gifts too.” Fabian was inspecting an antique dagger. “This looks like it may date back the era of King Klaus.” He adjusted his glasses. “I can’t believe someone would leave such a treasure.”

“I would never have imagined this kind of outpouring,” Cleo said. She was tearing up at the drawings. “Each of these items represents so much grief and gratitude for His Majesty.”

“Yes.” Nadia wiped her eyes. “It’s truly incredible, but there’s the problem of what to do with it all. It’s bad enough we have all of those flowers disintegrating inside the tower. It would be wrong to simply throw these precious things away.”

They turned to the side, where Byleth was sitting with her head leaned against Tristan’s shoulder. He kept kneading her hand as he held it, the touch doing little to keep her thoughts grounded. She stared past them at an empty spot on the opposite wall, aware they were expecting her to have an answer, but she didn’t have one. Her heart was too broken to feel anything about these offerings. They were useless, devoid of meaning. This lavish outpouring couldn’t bring Dimitri back.

“Mother?” Tristan prompted her as the silence lingered.

“I don’t care,” Byleth muttered.

The others startled. Isabeau’s brow pinched and she took a few steps closer. “Mom? Maybe you should take a look at some of these.”

Byleth shook her head. “I don’t want to look. Do what you want with them, but I don’t care.”

The others looked between themselves with varying degrees of concern and sympathy. An awkward silence hung in the room for several minutes as they continued to sift through the boxes and consider their options.

“I know!” Isabeau said. “We could bring these pictures and letters to Camulus and have them displayed in the cathedral.”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea!” Nadia exclaimed.

Cleo pulled a handmade plush lion from one of the boxes and had an adjacent idea. “These other gifts, perhaps we can donate them to orphanages?”

Fabian considered the dagger in his hand. “Things like this wouldn’t be of much use to them.” His eyebrows shot up. “Ah, we could auction them and donate the proceeds, however.”

“Father would approve,” Tristan said. He gave Byleth’s hand another rub, spurring her to tentatively nod. It was the most appropriate thing to do, she supposed. A very Dimitri thing to do.

“I agree,” Isabeau said. “I’m sure Étienne will too.”

Nadia nodded. “Yes, I think this is the best solution. Father would definitely want these gifts to be used for a good cause. We can worry about setting up the auction and donations once the funeral is over.”

“I’d be willing to take charge of it,” Fabian said. He started rustling through Nadia’s desk for a blank ledger book. “There will likely be more offerings once we get to Camulus. We can have them shipped back here and I’ll make an inventory of everything.”

“Thank you, dear,” Nadia said. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“I’ll help if you need it,” Tristan said. He glanced at Nadia. “Unless there are objections.”

She shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, you could bring some of the donation items back to Enbarr and distribute them there.”

Eugene appeared, knocking twice against the open door to announce himself. “Pardon me, Your Grace. Is this a bad time?”

“Actually, your timing is perfect,” Nadia said. “We were just discussing what to do with these offerings, and my sister had a wonderful idea to display the drawings and letters around the cathedral in Camulus. Is there a way to make that possible?”

He smiled faintly. “Yes, that can be arranged. I’ll have a few of my assistants take them ahead to Camulus and start work on it immediately.”

“Appreciated,” Tristan said.

“We anticipate that there will be more gifts left in Camulus,” Nadia said. “We’d like to have everything sent back here once the funeral is over and deal with them then.”

“Understood,” Eugene said. “I will see it done.” He held up a map with a path drawn in red. “I just received the approved route for the procession. We can depart for Camulus whenever you’re ready.”

Nadia looked about the room. “Unless there are objections, I think we should plan to leave as soon as possible.”

“What about the mourners?” Isabeau asked. “The line is still stretching all the way back through town. It might be all the way down the mountain trail. It’s not fair that they should travel from so far away without getting their chance to pay their respects.”

Nadia sighed. “It’s unfortunate, but it could take weeks to accommodate them all, possibly longer. These last few days have been terribly disruptive to the Academy students as it is.”

“We could close the Academy, but that’s a logistical nightmare,” Fabian added. “And even considering the extenuating circumstances, we’d likely still get bombarded with complaints.”

“There’s only one road down the mountain,” Tristan pointed out. “The ones who can’t make it to the cathedral can stay along the road and pay their respects there.”

“But…” Isabeau bit her lip, torn between their sensible points and her sense of fairness, as well as wondering what their father would want. “Mom? What do you think?”

Byleth felt all their eyes upon her once more. Much as she wished they’d stop asking her questions, she did have an answer for this one, an answer that she angrily thought should be obvious to everyone present. She shook her hand free of Tristan’s grip to pull it into her lap, digging her fingers into the folds of black material. When she opened her mouth to speak, no sound emerged at first, the words sticking in her throat like barbs. “H-he...he needs to go h-home.”

The tears were falling again. She was the one whom had convinced Dimitri to move to Garreg Mach full time, meeting his emotional protests about leaving Fhirdiad with cold logic about medics and climate. But Fhirdiad was his home, and logic didn’t always apply to places of such significance. She thought of all the mornings he’d woken up confused about being at the monastery and not the castle, his reactions to the unfamiliar faces of the various clerics. His agitation, his fear. Had taking him away from his home accelerated his decline? Would he still be alive if they’d returned to Fhirdiad in the spring like usual or if they’d never left in the first place?

Was it her fault?

She hunched over, her body shaking as she let out a stuttering sob wrenched from the pit of her soul. Hands were immediately on her in an attempt to comfort her, but she didn’t know whose and she didn’t care for their touch. She leapt from her seat and tore out of the room, outright shoving past Eugene in her haste to reach her chambers.

“Mom!” Isabeau called after her. She made a move to follow, but Nadia put a hand on her shoulder.

“Let her go,” she said softly.

Isabeau dissolved into sobs too. She wasn’t sure which was worse: losing her father or witnessing her eternally calm, composed mother suffer under the weight of her grief. It made Isabeau feel like a fool and a liar for ever making her promise to Dimitri, because right now it seemed an insurmountable task to uphold it.

Nadia pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair as she fought back her own tears. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning,” she said to Eugene. “Mother’s right...Father has been away from Fhirdiad long enough.”

Eugene nodded, solemn. “As you wish.”

*****

As the sun rose over the mountains, a trio of carriages lined up in front of the cathedral, along with a battalion of church knights and another of royal knights hand selected by Étienne to escort the procession to Camulus. Byleth climbed into the carriage designated for her and her children to wait rather than watch as Dimitri’s coffin was carefully loaded into its own carriage. The vehicle looked tacky to her eyes; the sides were made of glass and it was trimmed in layers of gold leaf, and there were gold carvings of birds and small animals on the top, rear, and front of it. The whole thing glittered in the sunlight like a diamond in a showy setting, and her stomach curdled knowing Dimitri wouldn’t approve of it.

The interior had been filled with flowers left by the visitors, so from the outside, it looked like Dimitri was lying among the blooms rather than inside a box. More of the flowers had been woven into wreaths and garlands by some of the nuns, and these were hung around the carriage exterior, which helped it look a bit less gaudy. It was drawn by four white horses, and the royal knights split into four groups to flank it on all sides. They marched in lockstep as the carriage slowly pulled away from the cathedral to begin the long journey north.

Byleth’s carriage traveled a short distance behind, and the third carriage, carrying Eugene, his assistants and all the luggage, trailed further yet at the rear. The church knights marched in between, as well as alongside Byleth and her family. People lined the road all the way down the mountain slope. Their faces were solemn, some openly weeping, but many of them also waved or tossed flowers as the procession passed.

It was expected that the crowd would thin once the procession reached the bottom of the mountain, but the road they took north was lined even more heavily with people. They were at least a dozen deep on each side of the road, bowing and praying as the carriage passed. Some of them sang hymns and flowers continued to carpet the path. On and on it went, even as the procession entered more outlying areas. Every inch of the route was wall to wall people, grieving yet grateful citizens paying respects to their beloved king.

The sight was overwhelming, as painful as it was heartwarming. Byleth could only stand it for so long before she had to pull the shade over her window to block the view, unable to bear the weight of the people’s grief along with her own. Isabeau and Cleo cried, and though the others tried to remain stoic, eventually they too had to close all the shades, save for narrow slits to allow some light in. Safely cocooned within, they tried to chat about mundane things and keep the mood light, but most of the conversations fizzled out quickly. Blocking the view didn’t silence the sounds of the crowd, nor erase the knowledge of what was next once they reached Camulus.

Nadia kept looking over the draft of her eulogy, making notations and crossing out lines of text. “I may have to rewrite this entire thing,” she sighed at one point. “I just don’t feel like I’ve found the right words yet.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Tristan said.

She shook her head. “It is the Archbishop’s duty to eulogize the king, but also…” She paused, pursing her lips. “This is for Father. He deserves my best efforts, and he deserves to be eulogized by someone who loves him and knows him well. The real him, that is.”

Byleth silently nodded in agreement. Part of her was actually looking forward to hearing Nadia’s eulogy, as it was certain to be moving and personal, much better than anything a random member of the clergy could come up with. Byleth was already tired of all the platitudes about how wonderful of a king Dimitri was. She wanted some part of this affair to acknowledge the wonderful person he was too.

The carriage went over a small bump just as Nadia crossed out another line, causing the top paper to rip and the pen to suddenly snap in her hand. “Blast it,” she growled. “I should know better than to do this sort of thing in transit.” Fabian patted her arm sympathetically as she folded the papers and stuffed them under her legs.

“Just like Papa,” Isabeau said with a little smile.

A sad sort of chuckle went around the others, save for Byleth who sniffled. She’d never stopped being amused at Dimitri’s propensity for breaking his pens. She’d kept track of how many he broke through the first few years of their marriage, and the total had averaged to roughly three per week. If she expanded that out over their sixty-three years of marriage, that’d mean he’d broken approximately 9,828 pens during that time.

No, it’d actually be closer to 9,672 pens, because Dimitri’s arthritis had robbed him of his ability to write around a year ago. And thinking on it, that was probably still too high of an estimate because he’d gradually written less and less as his hands got worse and he’d ceded more duties to Étienne.

The royal budget for quills was no doubt much smaller now, and Dimitri himself would probably be happy about that. It was such a strange detail to fixate on, but the thought of all of those broken pens made tears well in Byleth’s eyes. Though she tried to hold them back, they were soon flowing down her cheeks as she thought of all the times she’d walked into Dimitri’s office and seen him brushing aside the fragments of a pen and automatically pulling another out of his desk. And how he recognized the sound of her entering and nearly always turned to greet her with a warm smile no matter what he was doing.

“Mother?” Tristan asked. “What is it?”

She shook her head and wiped her eyes, feeling foolish for crying over pens of all things. “Nothing.”

Isabeau rubbed her shoulder while exchanging a helpless look with her siblings and in-laws. “It’s OK, Mom,” she said softly. “Please...you don’t need to hold things in for our sake.”

“Grief is a terrible burden for anyone to bear alone,” Cleo added. “You can rely on us, Your Majesty.”

Byleth was not used to being vulnerable in front of her children; as their mother, she’d always considered it her role to be their pillar of support, not the other way around. And there had rarely been a need to expose herself that way in the past, as Dimitri had been there to comfort her, and if not him, she’d had Mercedes or Dedue or Seteth to confide in instead. She already felt bad enough about everything they’d done for her since Dimitri’s death.

“I’m just eager to get to Camulus,” she said through a sniffle. “And then...Fhirdiad.”

Nadia nodded. “Yes. Even under these circumstance...it’s still good to go home.”

The village of Camulus was nondescript on its own. It had tidy cobblestone streets, neatly aligned buildings and homes, and an overall quaint and cheerful atmosphere. The cathedral was what set it apart, as it was so comparatively massive that the entire town all but disappeared in its shadow. No matter where one stood within the village, at least part of the cathedral was visible, its distinctive copper roof and giant flying buttresses naturally drawing the eye, and the spires on its north and south bell towers tall enough to pierce the heavens. Built over 800 years ago, it had long been a popular site for religious pilgrimages in the northern part of the continent, predating even the age of Loog and the founding of the Holy Kingdom itself.

Camulus was currently swarmed with a crowd of what had to be thousands of visitors, commoner and noble alike, all of them anticipating the arrival of the procession. The small plaza in front of the cathedral had been kept clear by a battalion of knights guarding the streets, allowing the carriages to pull right up to the cathedral’s main steps. Étienne was standing there in wait along with Sira and their daughters and grandchildren, as well as Geraint and his and Isabeau’s children.

As soon as Byleth exited the carriage, she was enveloped in Étienne’s strong arms, his embrace almost too tight. He was trembling all over, including his voice as he whispered in her ear. “Mother...I’m so glad you’re here…”

For a moment, she could almost imagine it was Dimitri’s arms holding her instead of their son’s, but the woodsy scent of Étienne’s cologne prevented the illusion from taking root. She nonetheless let out a tired but grateful sigh as she sank into his embrace. She wasn’t sure if he was comforting her or if she was comforting him.

“I sent an escort to bring Dedue and Mercedes,” he said as he pulled away. “I have word that the rest of your former students are en route.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“The town appears to be overrun,” Fabian said as he gestured towards one of the blocked streets. “This is beyond even what we saw at Garreg Mach.”

“My knights told me there were mourners lining the entire route,” Étienne said. “Is that true?”

Tristan nodded. “As best we could tell.”

“Goddess forgive us, but we had to close the shades for much of the ride,” Nadia said with a sad smile. “This outpouring...it is almost too much. Father would be speechless.”

Étienne nodded in agreement. Eugene came over to reintroduce himself to the crown prince and made a pledge to keep things orderly. It was decided to keep the cathedral doors closed to the public until after the rest of the extended family, close friends, and the heads of the noble houses arrived and had had the chance to pay their respects in private. Byleth was relieved at the decision, her chest feeling slightly less heavy at the anticipation of seeing her Lions again.

It’d only been a few months since their class reunion. She never would’ve guessed they would assemble again so soon, and certainly not for this reason.

Étienne’s breath hitched as he saw the attendants carefully unloading Dimitri’s coffin. He quickly hid his face in his elbow as he fought to keep his composure. Sira gripped his other hand in silent support, and the whole family slowly filed inside.

The cathedral had sustained heavy damage during the war, and it’d undergone an extensive restoration in the aftermath that had taken almost three decades to complete. It was as much a church as it was an architectural wonder and work of art unto itself, one perhaps even more impressive than the cathedral at Garreg Mach. Camulus had an adjoining garden dotted with hardwood trees and dozens of rose bushes, along with scattered rows of chionodoxa and valerian. Both the main and side entrances were crowned with intricate tympanums of the saints, the Goddess, and the Immaculate One. It boasted over 150 stained glass windows of varying sizes and shapes. There were massive rose windows at the north, south, east, and west ends of the main chamber, each one depicting a different scene from the Book of Seiros. The smaller oculi and lancet windows throughout the building mostly contained images of the Goddess, saints and the Immaculate One, but there was a series of windows at the east transept that showed Loog’s uprising and eventual coronation as the first king, along with one showing him with the fabled Maiden of Wind.

At the west transept was a giant arched window, prominently placed and near equal in size to the rose windows. Rather than being a restoration or recreation of one that’d been destroyed, it was entirely new, and it was a picture of Dimitri being crowned king by Byleth. Neither of them had been aware of the design before it was created; she had signed off on a vague ‘modern’ theme for the window, and by the time the mock up was shown to her, she was informed it was too late to change it as the glass had already been commissioned. She suspected Flayn had had something to do with it, though Byleth had never wrangled a straight answer out of her. Dimitri had been horrifically embarrassed when he’d found out. Byleth had had to assure him several times that it wasn’t blasphemous.

Behind the altar was a marble statue of Sothis on her throne, her arms outspread in welcome. The Blue Sea Star shone above her head, the carving inlaid with several glass gems to make it shine. To her right was a dragon and to her left was a lion, the two beasts curled partly around her feet and their eyes closed as if asleep. Byleth had overseen the design of that statue to try to make it somewhat accurate to Sothis’ real appearance, but it still only vaguely resembled her. The face and figure were too mature and the pose conveyed nothing of the Goddess’ penchant for mischief.

A dozen vases of fresh flowers were scattered around the pulpit. The arrangements were mainly white lilies, but there were also forget-me-nots, bluebells, lavender, and roses of such a deep crimson they appeared black. Nadia had suggested most of the flowers, save for the roses which were Byleth’s choice. She thought they best represented the gaping void inside of her, and seeing them against the more serene colors of the other flowers quite well conveyed the sentiment.

Once Dimitri’s coffin had been placed at the front of the pulpit, Étienne knelt before it and allowed himself to weep freely, the sound reverberating throughout the space. While the others hung around near the front pews to console and grieve with him, Byleth chose to wander around to distract herself. The letters and drawings from the mourners at Garreg Mach were strung on wires wrapped around the columns, walls, pews and balcony railings. The display looked out of place in the grand confines of the cathedral, yet something about them seemed fitting. She still couldn’t bear to inspect them closely, and the sheer number of them, like with the massive crowds, remained daunting.

Her steps inevitably carried her to the west transept and the infamous window. While she’d been less than pleased about its creation, once the window had been installed, it’d grown on her. The blues in the window were particularly vibrant, and the image itself was a fond reminder of a day marking a new beginning for both the Kingdom and themselves. The artist had placed golden halos behind her and Dimitri’s heads, and while he was kneeling before her, their eyes were locked and they were subtlety smiling at each other. To anyone who knew them, the image was less of a scene from a coronation and more of two lovers exchanging a silent vow.

“I’ve always loved this window,” Isabeau said as she came up behind her. “I know it embarrassed Papa, but it’s such a beautiful image.” Her lips curled in a faint smile as she gazed at it. “You both look so happy.”

Byleth nodded. “We are—were,” she hastily corrected herself.

Isabeau’s brow pinched. “Étienne had the knights set up an encampment for the family just outside town.”

“That was wise,” Byleth said. “The inns must be overbooked.”

“The others aren’t ready to leave yet, but Geraint and I were going to head there now,” Isabeau said. “Would you like to come with us?”

“Yes,” Byleth replied. “Thank you.”

Isabeau took her hand, gently interlocking her fingers with hers, and led her towards the door. “There should be food waiting for us too. I could do with a good meal after that trip. How about you?”

Byleth’s stomach was rumbling, but she hadn’t had much of an appetite since before Dimitri’s final days. Nothing appealed to her and nothing tasted the same, not even her favorites. Food was just a means for energy to her right now, not a pleasure, but not even a satisfying meal or a decent night’s sleep could ease the weariness in her body. She stole a glance back at the window as she allowed herself to be guided out of the cathedral.

By the following morning, the rest of the extended family had arrived, including Philippe and his wife and baby Lambert. They all formed a line starting inside the cathedral’s entryway, stretching along the main aisle towards the altar to greet important guests and accept condolences. Byleth’s spot was at the head of the line with Nadia and Étienne and their spouses, though she was given a chair in case she needed to sit. Her chest felt a bit lighter when she learned that all of her Lions had made it to Camulus too, and as close friends of the family, they were permitted to enter ahead of all of the VIPs.

“Professor?” Ashe resembled a kicked puppy, his eyes red-rimmed and tear tracks on his face. He took both of her hands, pausing a second as he tried to figure out what to say. “H-how are you doing?”

Byleth sighed. “I’m trying,” she answered. It wasn’t a lie, but it was a charitable way of phrasing it at best.

He nodded in sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I…” He licked his lips and let out an uncomfortable puff of air. “I was so shocked when I heard the news. It didn’t seem like it could be possible. Even now…” He glanced towards the pulpit. “I keep thinking back to the day he knighted me...I was so proud.”

She couldn’t quite manage a smile, but she gripped his hands tighter. “You have always been an exemplary knight.”

“Thank you, Professor, but...it wasn’t just gaining the title that made me proud.” Ashe smiled sadly. “His Majesty was the kind of king I was told only existed in my favorite stories. Serving under him...it was the greatest honor of my life.”

Byleth’s bottom lip quivered and she quickly wiped away a tear. “Thank you, Ashe.”

He patted her arm and shuffled away with a loud sniffle. Ingrid appeared a moment later, immediately copying him in taking both of Byleth’s hands. She’d been crying too, as the touch of makeup she wore was smudged around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Professor,” she said with a pinched brow. “This is so unexpected...I can hardly believe it’s real. I thought His Majesty seemed well at our reunion, and he was generally in good spirits.”

Byleth nodded. “I thought he was well too, but...things changed over the summer.” Her breath hitched, thinking back to how Dimitri was just a few month ago. “It was slow, but it feels like it happened so fast.”

“If there’s anything at all I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Ingrid said. “Even if it’s just something small.”

“Your being here is enough,” Byleth said. “It would mean a lot to Dimitri too, just like our class reunion did.”

Ingrid rubbed her hand. “I’m especially grateful we had that time together now. I never would’ve imagined that would be…” She trailed off, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. “Ah, please forgive me.”

Byleth squeezed her hand back. “It’s OK. Thank you, Ingrid. Truly.”

Sylvain hobbled in on his cane, his other arm looped through his daughter’s. He gave Byleth an unusually tight hug, and it spoke to the severity of his own grief that he made no attempt to grope her while he did so. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I never should’ve made that joke at our reunion.”

She scoffed, as she’d forgotten all about it until now. “Just don’t make any more predictions like that.”

“Noted,” he said with a fake laugh. He kissed her temple chastely as he pulled away. “We’re all here for you if you need anything. Just say the word.”

“Thank you.” It was always a bit jarring when he acted serious, but she didn’t doubt his sincerity; Sylvain had proven his reliability time and again, especially when the chips were down.

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Felix took the news pretty hard. I know it’s a big ask under these circumstances, but try to be patient with him?”

Right on cue, Felix’s voice boomed around the chamber as he angrily shouted. “How could that stupid boar go and die?” Byleth’s insides burned despite Sylvain’s plea, and she was ready to reach for Étienne’s sword until she saw how red and puffy Felix’s eyes were.

Govan, who was helping to escort his parents up the stairs, jabbed his father in the shoulder with a closed fist. “Father, I’m begging you to be mindful of present company for once.” He gave Byleth, Étienne, and Nadia a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

Étienne’s smile was only a little forced. “Don’t fret about it, Govan. We’ve heard it before.”

Annette also frowned at her husband and gave him a firm nudge before glomping onto Byleth. “Professor! I can’t even believe this is real! I’m so, so sorry!” She was trying not to cry, but her face was streaked with tears. “How are you doing? Ah, I’m sorry! That’s such a dumb question to ask.”

Seeing Annette so upset made it difficult for Byleth to maintain her composure. She hugged her back as she sniffled. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said as an honest answer.

“Who would’ve guessed we’d see each other again so soon?” Annette asked as she wiped her eyes. “Our reunion was so much fun, but now…”

“I knew something was wrong,” Felix spat. “He looked terrible, but that idiot didn’t say a thing about it!”

“Felix!” Annette’s yell echoed through the whole cathedral.

Byleth’s patience teetered on a razor’s edge. “What difference would it have made if he had?”

Felix tensed so hard his cane vibrated against the floor tiles. “I just…” His jaw clenched, a tear pooling at the corner of his eye, and then the fight drained out of him like air leaving a balloon. “...Nothing. It changes nothing.”

Byleth sighed and gave him a tentative pat on the arm. “Thank you for being here for Dimitri.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. He grabbed Annette’s hand and poked Govan in the leg with his cane, and the three of them continued down the line.

A few moments later, Dedue and Mercedes appeared along with their sons and grandchildren. It was wonderful to see them all despite the circumstances, and Byleth’s chest swelled with something akin to relief. Mercedes hugged her the hardest of everyone, despite her own frailty. “Oh Byleth...I couldn’t believe it at first when I heard. I’m so sorry.”

It was tempting to sink into her arms and cry herself to exhaustion, but Byleth forced herself to hold together, thinking of the long day still ahead and the energy she needed for it. She did squeeze Mercedes back as hard as she dared and took a few silent seconds to absorb her warmth. “Mercedes...I’m so grateful you’re here,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

“Of course,” Mercedes said. “I thought I said my final goodbye to Dimitri at our reunion. I didn’t think…” She sniffled and wiped her eyes as her words trailed off. She kissed Byleth’s cheek. “You must be overwhelmed. There isn’t much I can offer to help, but perhaps we could talk later over tea, if you want?”

“Thank you,” Byleth said with a nod. “I would like that.”

Dedue’s eternally stalwart countenance was cracked at its edges. It was hard to meet his bloodshot eyes as they betrayed the torment within him. “Professor, I...”

Byleth knew what he sought. She put a hand on his arm as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “He went peacefully.”

“...You were with him?” he asked. She nodded and he exhaled, his posture visibly relaxing. “Good. That is...very reassuring.” He put a hand on her shoulder, the weight of it heavy yet grounding. “Thank you, Byleth. I can think of no greater comfort he could’ve had.”

Byleth shuddered, barely suppressing a sob as the images replayed in her mind: Dimitri’s little smile, the warm look in his eye, his whispered ‘beloved.’ As much as the memory haunted her, she wouldn’t trade those last moments with him for anything. They were a gift as precious as they were painful.

“There was nowhere else I would’ve been,” she murmured.

Once the Lions had had their turn, the nobles and visiting dignitaries started filing in. Their condolence were far more detached and formal, with only a few exceptions such as Duke Gerth. She quietly seethed at how some of the unctuous nobles like Count Rowe had the gall to express respect and admiration for Dimitri when they’d repeatedly stymied his initiatives, often for petty reasons. Byleth retreated into her role as dowager queen and hid behind her emotionless face, thanking them all politely while internally wishing she could be anywhere else.

It was worth noting that the head of every noble house had come personally, and the number of representatives from other countries proved an even bigger surprise. Byleth had expected to see the governor of Duscur and the princess of Brigid on behalf of the elderly Queen Petra, but there were also representatives from Sreng, Morfis, and Albinea.

After accepting condolences from the Sreng ambassador, she was approached by a dark-skinned young man she didn’t recognize, though his clothing told her he was from Almyra. There was nothing familiar about his face, but his green eyes were distinctive.

“Queen Byleth.” He bowed to her. “I’d hoped to meet you under better circumstances. I am Prince Idris of Almyra. Please accept my condolences on behalf of my grandfather, King Khalid.”

“Of course.” Byleth nodded. Now that she knew, she could see Idris’s resemblance to Claude. “How is His Majesty?”

“Not well, I’m afraid,” Idris said. “He truly wished to come himself and pay his respects, but he is unfit to travel, and my father thought it better to remain at his side. I fear it will probably not be long before I am standing in your place.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Byleth said. It’d been many years since she’d seen Claude in person, though he had sent a personal letter congratulating her on her retirement. Claude had proven to be a more reliable ally than she would’ve guessed from the superficially charming young man she’d met at the Officers Academy.

Idris smiled faintly. “He’s always spoken fondly of both you and King Dimitri. I am grateful for your efforts in finally securing peace between our nations, one that I swear will last beyond my eventual reign.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Dimitri would be glad to hear that. Please give my regards to your grandfather. We were equally grateful for his support through the years.”

It was late in the day by the time all the nobles and dignitaries had had their turn, and at last the cathedral doors were opened to the general public. Like at Garreg Mach, Byleth chose not to linger and returned to the campsite with her family, but the sight of another massive line of commoners filing into the church made the pain in her chest a bit less sharp after dealing with the nobles. Commoners were not obliged to come to Camulus, so she knew their grief was wholly sincere.

While the original plan had been for Dimitri to lie in state for three days, as was tradition, it was quickly obvious that wouldn’t be sufficient to accommodate all of the people. Just like at Garegg Mach and along the procession route, the public’s outpouring was far beyond anything that’d ever been seen in Faerghus before. They again left hundreds of flowers and other tokens behind, and these were again gathered up every day. The letters and pictures were added to the ones already adorning the cathedral interior, painting the hallowed walls with their gratitude and grief for everything their king had done for them. The viewing was first extended by three days, then by another two, until the line of mourners finally slowed from a constant stream into a slow trickle.

Aside from a tedious formal banquet with the nobility, Byleth spent her time at the campsite with her family and the Lions. They sat around talking about everything and nothing in between reminiscing about Dimitri, and there was abundant food and drink at all hours. Being constantly surrounded by people proved a sufficient diversion from her grief, and all the talking and feasting left her so exhausted at the end of the day that she fell asleep easily. It was a strangely enjoyable party, more a celebration of a life well lived than a solemn acknowledgment of what they’d all lost. Sometimes it almost felt like Dimitri was only gone temporarily and they were simply waiting for him to return.

She came to dread the gathering’s inevitable end when there would be nothing left to distract her from his absence.

The morning of the funeral, Byleth went to the cathedral ahead of everyone else. She wanted a few moments of quiet with Dimitri before the service, to help gird herself for the last bit of pageantry before this ordeal ended and her new normal took hold. She seated herself in the frontmost pew and gazed forward blankly, her eyes fixed on the stained glass windows above the pulpit rather than on his coffin. Around her, acolytes quietly went about lighting the hundreds of candles in the braziers, candelabras, and chandeliers in preparation for the service. They also tidied up around the altar and fluffed the vases of fresh flowers, picking out any that were wilting, but they paid her no mind other than a nod if she happened to make eye contact. None of them walked between her and the coffin either, respectfully going the long way around instead.

This building was a sanctuary, a place where people were supposed to find comfort and peace, but she felt nothing of the sort. She was desperate to feel some trace of his presence again, but right now her chest was filled with a cold numbness. She knew her tears couldn’t possibly have dried up already, but trying to parse what she was thinking and feeling in a given moment was too hard. She was exhausted, sad, angry, lonely, hopeless, scared, and empty all at once, and since all of those feelings were vying for dominance, the result was that none of them could truly manifest. They were all just a tangled mass stabbing at each other with the shards of her heart.

“It’s been a long time, my friend.”

Byleth startled at the voice. It seemed to come from all directions, so she looked about before she spotted the figure emerging from the shadows like a phantom. He walked towards her with unhurried steps, pushing back his hood and shaking out his long purple hair.

“Yuri.” She hadn’t seen him since her retirement. He’d hardly aged a day. There were the subtlest of lines around his mouth now, but he otherwise looked exactly the same as he always had. He seated himself next to her without waiting for an invitation.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Byleth said with a small sigh. It wasn’t like the quiet had helped at all.

Yuri leaned back in the pew and crossed one foot onto his knee. “I imagine you’re sick of this question by now, but how are you doing?”

She huffed in mild amusement, grateful she’d never had to put on airs with him. “Awful.”

“I figured.” He patted her shoulder and then folded his arms. “I hate burying old friends. Never gets any easier.”

Byleth didn’t envy him. Given how slowly he was aging, he was going to be mourning friends whom hadn’t even been born yet. “How’d you find me?”

“I followed you when you left your camp,” Yuri said. “I’ll assume present circumstances are the reason you didn’t notice, as I’m sure you’re as sharp as ever even at your age.”

She scoffed. “You’d be wrong about that. I’ve hardly touched a sword since we last spoke.”

He smiled a little. “Good. I’m glad you took my advice about enjoying your break.”

“I did enjoy it...until now.”

Yuri nodded solemnly. “I came to Camulus right after the news broke. This place is usually pretty lively, but not now, not even with the huge crowds. Just sad faces everywhere. I always knew he was a popular guy, but this outpouring is the kind of stuff you read about in legends. I guess you don’t realize you’ve lived through something historic until it’s over.” He glanced towards the west transept. “You should have more of those windows made. Install one in every church in Fódlan. Artists will be coming out of the woodwork now to make tributes to him, wanting to contribute to the story.”

“Talk to Nadia,” Byleth said, not really taking his suggestion seriously. “It’s no longer my job.”

“Maybe I will,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. He was quiet for a moment and then he let out a heavy sigh. “He sure was cut from different cloth. I never imagined I’d have the full confidence of a king, but he never hesitated to slip me more funds whenever I asked for them. Sometimes he didn’t even ask me what they were for. I could never tell if it was because he trusted me that much or if he was just that foolish.”

“You know it was the former,” she said. “You proved you were trustworthy many times during the war.” She tipped her head. “You sound like you feel guilty. Did you use some of those funds for less than noble purposes?”

“I’ll never tell,” Yuri said with a small smirk. “But I will miss him. I can tell your son thinks I’m shady despite his father’s glowing endorsement. I’m still working my charms on him, but I doubt he’ll ever give me the same latitude.”

“Give him more time. Étienne idolizes Dimitri; he was probably shocked to learn he was giving you money off the books in the first place.”

“Yeah, that was my impression. You daughter’s an even tougher one to crack. She still chases me off whenever I approach her.”

Byleth almost laughed. “You can keep trying, but it isn’t in Nadia’s nature to do anything under the table. Have you tried approaching Isabeau? She’d listen to you.”

“Not yet, but I’ll keep that in mind. What I really need is an in with the church. What about your other son?”

“He’d probably be receptive, but if you expect him to lean on Nadia for you, don’t bother. They’d just end up arguing.” She rubbed her chin as she thought. “Have you talked to Fabian? He does most of the bookkeeping. It’d be a lot to ask him to keep a secret from Nadia, but he might be willing to if you pleaded your case well and gave him some proof of your successes.”

Yuri considered this and slowly nodded. “All right. I appreciate the information. I suppose it’s past time I got used to all these new faces.” He gave her a little smile. “Sorry to be talking business at a time like this.”

“It’s fine,” Byleth said. The distraction was welcome, however temporary. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” He patted her arm again. “If there’s anything I can do for you, you know how to find me. I’ll be around looking after things for a long time yet.”

“I appreciate it.” It was reassuring knowing he was still lurking in the shadows of Fódlan, helping to keep the peace in his own unorthodox way. Even if her children never fully came around on him, he’d find a way to keep following his own path.

Yuri rose from the pew and turned towards the coffin. He shut his eyes for a long moment and then looked back to her. “I’m sure the Goddess will take good care of him, Byleth.”

Her breath hitched. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “See you around.” He pulled up his hood and slipped away the same way he’d arrived.

It was only a few minutes later when the family arrived, and not long after that, Eugene and his aides entered. He stood in front of the pulpit and waited a few minutes for the chatter to die down, and then he loudly cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said. “Thank you for arriving in such a timely manner. I hope you are all rested, at least as well as can be expected. There are a few things to do before the service. Firstly, before we close the coffin, anyone who wishes to say a last goodbye to His Majesty may do so now.”

He stepped aside as Byleth’s children, in-laws, grandchildren, and great-grand grandchildren formed a line and slowly filed past the coffin. Isabeau lingered the longest of them, her chin against her chest as she tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her tears. She tucked a sprig of forget-me-nots between Dimitri’s hands, along with a card containing short messages of love and thanks that everyone had signed.

“Like Sha-sha!” Angela chirped in recognition. She pointed at Dimitri from her seat on her mother’s hip, her tattered bunny clutched in her other arm.

Her mother shushed her. “You need to be quiet right now.”

Angela tipped her head, pensive. “He’s ‘eeping?”

“Yes, sweetie,” her mother said. “He’s sleeping. Be quiet so he can rest.”

“Night-night,” Angela said. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and laid her head against her mother’s shoulder.

When everyone else was done, Byleth took her turn. The horrible numb feeling still enveloped her. Her husband was dead and she’d barely begun to grieve him, overwhelmed by all of these ceremonies, protocols, and social obligations. She’d been going through the motions since the day he’d died, unable to truly grasp the permanence of it all. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him, to face the strange new world before her where he wouldn’t be at her side. That world terrified her, and her thoughts again entertained the dark impulse to climb into that box and join him.

She touched the ring, rubbing her thumb over the gems, and gave his bangs one last tousle and his face one last caress. His cold skin reminded her that the figure before her was only his body. Without his soul to animate it, it wasn’t truly Dimitri anymore, just a handsome corpse bedecked in royal finery. This empty vessel could not speak to her in his warm, deep voice, nor could it hold her, kiss her, or comfort her. It could not look at her with that beautiful blue eye and call her beloved. It couldn’t do any of the things required to soothe the crushing pain in her heart.

With a sob lodged in her throat, she touched her fingers to her lips before gently pressing them to his lips. Then she took a deep, shaky breath and stepped back from the coffin.

“Are we ready?” Eugene asked. “It’s all right if you need more time, Your Majesty.”

Byleth nodded. “I’m ready.” She joined the rest of her family on the pews and seated herself next to Étienne. He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Eugene motioned to his assistants. With a solemn nod, they lowered the coffin’s lid and flicked the latches into place. The soft clicks reverberated around the cathedral with a haunting finality. Another attendant brought forth a pair of banners to drape over the coffin. The first and larger one was the distinctive Faerghus blue and bore the kingdom’s coat of arms and the Crest of Blaiddyd, while the second banner was white and slightly smaller, and bore the church’s coat of arms. Once they were placed, the attendants set a huge spray of white lilies dotted with blue forget-me-nots atop the coffin, along with the royal crown of Faerghus, the one used for official state ceremonies. It was a recreation of a recreation, since Loog’s original crown had been lost during the Crescent Moon War, and the previous recreation lost during the Unification War. Dimitri had lamented more than once how needlessly ostentatious it was, since it was embedded with several sapphires and a huge blue diamond that could probably keep a village well fed for a year. The number of times he’d actually worn it could be counted on one hand.

There was a collective exhale from most of the family when the attendants were finished, only audible because of the cathedral’s acoustics. Eugene bowed to the coffin and then to them. “Your Grace?”

“My brother’s going to recite the prayers, since I’m leading the funeral service,” Nadia said.

“Ah, I see.” Eugene nodded. “Then please proceed when you’re ready, Lord Tristan.”

Tristan took a deep breath and rose from his seat. He made a blessing motion over the coffin and then turned towards the family and opened the book in his hands. He read a few passages from the Book of Seiros in a steady cadence; he’d presided over many funerals in his life and the familiarity of the readings made it easier to distance himself from whose funeral this was. Byleth shut her eyes and leaned against Étienne’s shoulder, not really listening since she knew the words by heart. The sound of her son’s voice was more soothing than any formal prayer.

When he was done, Tristan closed the book with a snap and lowered his head. “A moment of silence to offer our own prayers to the Goddess for the repose of King Dimitri’s soul.” He licked his lips as he counted to sixty in his head. “Thank you.” He pulled the book against his chest, a tremor abruptly going through his body. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he turned back to the coffin and made a shallow bow. “...We humbly ask the Goddess to accept King Dimitri into her loving embrace.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he made a quick retreat to the pew.

“Thank you, Lord Tristan.” Eugene bowed towards them again. “We will open the doors now to let in the guests and the rest of the clergy. This section where you are is reserved for family, this one here for close friends, and the rest are for the VIPs. The balcony seats are for the remaining nobles, knights, and dignitaries. There’s an overflow area outside for the general public, though it’s unlikely anyone will hear anything out there, alas. We have many knights and ushers posted to keep everything orderly. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“Thank you, Lord Brennius,” Étienne said. “You have provided an invaluable service to us.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Eugene said. “All of your carriages are lined up out back. Once the service is complete, please exit through the rear portal. My attendants and I will see to His Majesty, and then we will proceed to Fhirdiad.”

Nods passed around the group and they made their preparations for the service. Nadia left to meet with the clergy who would be assisting her, a small group which included Tristan and Cleo. Étienne and Sira, as the next king and queen of Faerghus, were also included in the procession, as was Byleth. The rest of the family arranged themselves more properly in their designated section, and the other attendees gradually filed in and took their seats.

Byleth took several steadying breaths as she waited in the vestibule. As dowager queen, she had a seat of honor at the rear of the pulpit, which unfortunately meant she had to sit alone through the service. It also meant she had to sit facing the whole congregation, but her black veil mitigated her unease about that part. No one would be able to see her face from that distance, so whether her expression stayed blank or she cried her eyes out wouldn’t make a difference. She adjusted the headpiece before pulling the veil down, and clasped her hands tightly in front of her.

“Are you nervous?” Étienne asked Nadia.

“It’s not as though I’ve never directed a funeral,” she replied as she smoothed her hair and clothes for the seventh time that morning. After much debate, she was wearing dark blue vestments. Church protocol dictated that the Archbishop always wear white, but it was expected for members of the royal family to wear black, and since she was both, Nadia couldn’t decide which was the proper choice. Tristan suggested the compromise of her wearing the shade of blue that was part of the church’s regalia, and then told her she should make it a new protocol in case anyone else encountered the same issue in the future.

“I noticed the light was still on in your tent when we retired last night,” Sira said.

“Fabian is either exhausted or hung over,” Tristan said. “Since I don’t smell brandy on him, I can assume you were up all night working on your eulogy.”

Nadia tilted her chin upwards, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Neither of us could sleep, so I chose to use my time productively and he offered to help me.”

Étienne rubbed her hand. “I know this is not easy, so I’m grateful you agreed to do this. No matter what you say in your eulogy, it would make Father happy.”

“Thank you,” Nadia said. “I’m less concerned with its content than with my ability to deliver it. Even last night as I was practicing...I had to keeping pausing because I’d start to cry.”

“If you do cry, it’s doubtless we will as well,” Étienne said with a smile.

Byleth nodded in agreement. “You’ll be great.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Nadia said. “I appreciate that vote of confidence.”

The organ began to play, then the choir started singing a hymn, one with a somber melody and lyrics about the Goddess’ forgiveness and mercy for wayward souls, hoping they’d find their way into her embrace. Everyone gave a quick glance to each other. Nadia took a deep breath and smoothed her hair yet again. “For Father.”

“For Father,” Étienne and Tristan murmured.

Nadia directed the service with the expected professionalism of the Archbishop, leading everyone through the invocation, prayers and rituals as if it were any of the other hundreds of religious ceremonies she’d performed. It was only when it was time for the eulogy that she stepped out of her role. She walked out to stand next to the casket, her hands tightly clasped in front of her chest and her head and shoulders stiffly aligned, and spoke to the crowd not only as the leader of the church but as a proud daughter.

“Much will be written about King Dimitri in the history books,” she began. “There will be numerous official accounts about his policies, his accomplishments, his controversies. Scholars will spend hours debating the impact of his reign and they will argue about where he ranks in history among all of the kings of Faerghus past, present and future.” She smiled slightly. “I myself think his name will be spoken alongside that of Loog as our most revered and significant king, but I realize my opinion is likely biased.”

A light chuckle passed through the crowd and Nadia nodded in appreciation for it. “Today in this space, however, I do not wish to speak of King Dimitri as history will remember him. To the Kingdom and to most of you here, he was an authority figure cloaked in robes and a crown, distant and untouchable. But under that, he was a man. So I’d like tell you all a little about that man, about who my father was behind his title.”

She paused and took a deep breath. “I am the only one of my siblings who inherited my father’s Crest. As much of an honor as it is to possess it, it is difficult to learn how to control its power. When I was a little girl, I longed for a beautiful doll like the one that belonged to the current Margravine Gautier. But I knew I could not have such a doll, for it was made of porcelain and I would surely break it no matter how carefully I played with it, so I never so much as asked for one.” A small smile came to her lips. “On my seventh birthday, my father handed me an exquisitely wrapped gift. It had a big blue bow and shiny paper, clearly indicating it was something special. I cried when I opened it and found the exact doll I’d wanted inside. How could he be so cruel as to gift me something I’d inevitably destroy, I’d wondered? I angrily shoved the box back at him and demanded to know exactly that, and my father smiled kindly and told me this doll would not break. He even dropped it on the floor to demonstrate, and explained that the doll had a protective enchantment woven into it to prevent it from breaking, even if my Crest were to unexpectedly activate.”

A delighted murmur passed over the crowd. Byleth almost smiled under her veil. She remembered that day well. Nadia’s tears of anger had turned to tears of pure joy, and she’d leapt into Dimitri’s arms and hugged him so hard her Crest had gone off and almost broken his non-enchanted ribs. But he hadn’t cared; he was happy because she was happy. He’d understood the frustration and pain of accidentally destroying things he’d valued as a child. When Nadia was born with the Crest of Blaiddyd, he’d gathered intel on artisans and spellcasters alike so their daughter wouldn’t have to suffer the same heartache he’d felt as a boy when he’d shattered his favorite toy horse.

“That story is uniquely mine, but it is emblematic of who our father was to us,” Nadia said. “My brothers and sister could tell you similar tales of things he did for each of them. Some of you probably sat through meetings with him where my sister planted herself on his lap for the whole duration.” There were some scattered chuckles. Isabeau blushed but also smiled. “Many more of you have likely heard tales about his courtship and marriage to our mother. I assure you, they are all true.” The crowd chuckled again. “I imagine if you’d only witnessed some of their famously heated disagreements when they were conducting official business, you’d find the gushing stories about their romance baffling, but they never carried those arguments into their private lives. They were devoted to each other in a way that’s difficult to put to words, and that was the foundation upon which our family was built. It is reflected in the generations that have followed and will continue to be born in the future.”

Nadia bowed her head slightly. “Love was my father’s guiding principle in all things...love for his family, his kingdom, and his people. A dear friend of our family once said that he was too kind to be king. I did not understand what those words meant when I first heard them; after all, we want our leaders to be compassionate, do we not?” She took a deep breath and looked at the coffin, her calm expression wavering at its edges. “My father had a heart as big as the whole of Fódlan, but a heart that big can be as much of a burden as it is a blessing. He bore witness to many senseless tragedies early in his life, and that sorrow forever hung over him like a shadow. He abhorred injustice and people who preyed upon those who are vulnerable. At one point, his compassion for the victims of the world’s cruelties twisted into an all consuming hatred against the perpetrators of those cruelties, leading him down a dark path where he nearly destroyed himself. The Unification War would’ve had a much different outcome had he not made the choice to turn back from that path.

“And that choice, far more than his Crest, was the proof of my father’s incredible strength. He resolved that he would atone for his mistakes by building a peaceful world, one where the people were provided for and where the strong could no longer trample over the weak. He may have been born a prince, but he only rose to become the Savior King because he chose to. Because he chose to love instead of succumbing to hatred.”

There was nary a dry eye among Dimitri’s family and friends. Isabeau was sobbing into her husband’s shoulder, doing her best to muffle it. Étienne too was struggling to not make a scene, and Tristan’s otherwise stoic face was framed by little rivers. Byleth surveyed the pew where her Lions were sitting and saw all of them were in tears too. Ashe, Ingrid, and Sylvain all had red, puffy eyes. Dedue had his eyes closed as his tears flowed, one arm around Mercedes, who was cuddled against him and crying into his shoulder. Felix was straight up ugly crying, his eyes bloodshot and his nose running. Annette rubbed his back as she kept dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

Nadia hastily wiped her eyes and took another deep breath. “Each of us only gets to live one life. There are no exceptions. In the end, we all die and our bodies become dust. But there is one thing we can leave behind that endures, that transcends the flow of time, and that is love. I know this is true because I have seen first hand the fruits borne of my father’s love for this world. It is in this kingdom he built. It is in me and my siblings. It is in the hearts of the thousands of people who came to mourn him. That is the legacy he leaves behind, and it is not a legacy exclusive to a king. Even the humblest among us can give love to this world. The smallest act of kindness can spread like ripples upon the water, fanning out until it becomes a wave washing over the world. It is what truly makes for a life well lived, but it is something we must consciously choose to do every day.

“That is the ultimate task the Goddess requests of us all. It is what I beseech all of you to consider today as we say farewell to my father. Can you follow his example? Can you choose to be an agent of mercy instead of one of vengeance? Can you turn away from hatred and embrace the world with love? When you depart this world and stand face to face with the Goddess, how will you answer her?” Nadia spread her arms towards the congregation, tears glistening on her face. “How did you love?”

Her closing words hung in the air of the cathedral as she made a blessing motion over the casket and then leaned down and laid a light kiss upon it. She drew in a sniffle as she turned back to the pulpit, briefly meeting her mother’s eyes with a secret smile. Byleth felt tears trickle down her cheeks, but they were less tears of grief and more tears of pride and gratitude. It was the perfect eulogy. She could imagine Dimitri getting misty eyed and blushing furiously in equal measure at it.

After a moment of silence, the music started again, the choir singing another beautiful hymn, and the service came to a close. Byleth sighed to herself as she watched everyone start to leave, relieved but also not quite ready for the next part. She stayed in her seat until after all the pews had emptied, nodding at her children as they passed toward the rear door to silently tell them she needed a minute. She remained in her spot until Eugene and his assistants converged on the coffin and slowly brought it out the front door towards its waiting carriage. Only then did she finally rise and leave the cathedral.

It was less than a half day’s journey to Fhirdiad from Camulus. It came as no surprise that the road was again lined with people the entire way, and they got more and more thickly packed the closer the procession got to Fhirdiad. Thinking on Nadia’s eulogy, Byleth’s chest swelled painfully again at the sight of all the love the people had for Dimitri. She hoped it really would carry into the future, that the memory of him and his good works would continue to inspire the citizens and the nobility to work together in maintaining the peaceful, prosperous kingdom he’d built.

That they’d built.

The crowd that greeted them at Fhirdiad’s gates was enormous, possibly including every resident of the city. They parted like a wave for the carriages, and while the overall mood was appropriately somber, there were also a lot of claps and cheers as they welcomed their king home for the final time. They followed behind the procession all the way to the castle gates. Étienne made a point to stop and get out of the carriage to wave back to the people and thank them for their support. He said a few words about how much it would mean to Dimitri and how much it meant to him and the family too. Byleth felt like she should’ve joined him, but she’d never been great at speeches and she wasn’t ready to face a crowd without a protective barrier. She wondered if she ever would be again.

The royal cemetery was located in a tucked off area of the castle grounds. After falling into disrepair during the war, it was now meticulously maintained and orderly, with the stones given regular cleanings to keep the inscriptions visible and different flowers planted at every grave. Most of the flowers were wilted and brown as the chill fall winds blew, making the area look dour, but a few scattered dots of colors still clung to life.

Dimitri’s monument, which would be made of marble, was not yet complete and likely wouldn’t be until at least spring, but there was a mock up made of wood waiting at the site. It was a statue of him standing tall, wearing his armor and cloak with Areadbhar in his right hand. The pose wasn’t dynamic enough to show much of his personality, but the likeness was excellent. Between this statue and the numerous paintings of him, future generations would always know how handsome he was.

The fingers of his left hand were interlaced with those of a statue of Byleth. Hers also had her in a simple standing pose, dressed in her archbishop’s regalia and with the Sword of the Creator in her left hand. It too was an excellent likeness of her in her youth, and together the statues made for a striking couple, their linked hands a subtle but permanent reminder of their devotion to each other.

It was a bit eerie to see herself in a monument, but after some persuasion from her children, Byleth had agreed that it made more sense to do it this way. Not only would they not have to deal with having a separate one made for her in the future, it was a small comfort to see the figures holding hands just as she and Dimitri had in life. Once the real statue was placed, beds of valerian and chionodoxa would be planted around it.

Her eyes scanned the words carved on the base of the monument. She’d had no idea what they should say, but fortunately her children had come to a consensus with few arguments. Knowing there would be tomes written about their parents in the future, they thought it best to keep the epitaphs simple and straightforward.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd
The Savior King
20 Ethereal Moon 1162 – 12 Wyvern Moon 1249
Cherished husband, father, and friend
A king without compare
A heart as big as all of Fódlan

Byleth Eisner
Guardian of Order
20 Horsebow Moon 1159 -
Beloved wife, mother, and friend
Revered archbishop
Fódlan’s guiding star

Dimitri had never been comfortable with the Savior King sobriquet; he’d at best begrudgingly accepted it despite feeling unworthy of it. It was the name the people had used for him since the end of the war, and the nobility and even leaders from foreign nations had gradually adopted it too as they’d watched Fódlan heal and then flourish under his hand. Byleth thought the title was more than fitting, as did their children. She was quite sure history would’ve given him such a name in due course.

She didn’t know where her Guardian of Order moniker had come from, and she’d only heard it infrequently over the years, but she liked how it called to mind her role in preserving the peace. It was certainly a better title than Ashen Demon. She was less sure about the guiding star part, but her children had been very insistent about it. She hoped Sothis didn’t take offense.

The family, as well as the Lions and their family members, gathered around the site as a quartet of knights, the ones whom had had served House Blaiddyd for the longest, gently carried the coffin to the waiting hole. The flowers were removed and the crown given to an aide to return to the royal vault. The knights folded the banners into taught squares and then presented them to Byleth with a bow. She took them into her arms with a murmured thank you, trembling slightly as she clutched them against her chest. Nadia led the group in another short prayer, struggling not to cry as she did so. Once she was done, they all watched as the coffin was slowly lowered deep into the ground.

The crowd gradually dispersed to the castle as the sun sank on the horizon. As the last rays of light began to fade, a pair of groundskeepers arrived on the site. They lit a few lanterns and began to somberly shovel dirt into the hole, not saying a word as they went about the sad but necessary task. Byleth held the same silence, her insides cold and numb as she stood as motionless as her statue, watching the dirt steadily fill the hole. Watching as her love was buried beneath the earth forever.

The groundskeepers left one of the lanterns for her when they’d finished, giving her a respectful bow as they departed. It was only then that she realized she was not the only one still lingering at the grave. Dedue was standing to her right, just outside of her peripheral vision. She pulled back her veil as she dared to meet his eyes. The warm lantern light caught the tear tracks on his face.

“My apologies, Professor,” he said softly. “I will leave if you’d rather be alone.”

Byleth moved to stand beside him. “Stay.” She reached her hand out to take his and his fingers slowly twined with hers. She could feel his arm shaking the same way as his breaths.

“Thank you,” he murmured with a grateful sigh.

They said nothing else to each other because there was nothing else that needed to be said. Byleth didn’t know how long they remained there like that. It was only when Isabeau came looking for her that they finally left to join the others inside the castle.

Chapter Text

With the winter snows soon to come and with the family and the nobility already in Fhirdiad, Étienne chose to expedite his coronation. The ceremony would be relatively small and simple rather than a lavish celebration followed by days of feasting and pageantry. A few traditionalists offered token protests, perhaps wishing for a festive social event to quickly move on from Dimitri’s funeral, but their complaints were drowned out by those of the pragmatists and the ones willing to respect the new king’s wishes, as well as those sympathetic to his grief.

Byleth slept little in the intermittent days. Even with plenty of people around to keep her distracted, she felt Dimitri’s absence more acutely in the castle. She stayed in one of the guest rooms, unable to even enter their old chambers. Étienne and Sira were gracious enough to forego moving into the royal apartments until Byleth was ready to sort through the rest of Dimitri’s belongings. She suspected Étienne wasn’t ready to occupy the rooms yet either.

The night before the coronation, she aimlessly paced about the castle, unable to sleep nor even quiet her restless thoughts and feelings. Her steps eventually brought her to the small chapel on the lower level, and she was surprised to find it occupied. Étienne was sitting alone on one of the pews, clothed in his dressing gown and with his hair and beard undone and mussed. He was nursing a cup of tea, a small steaming kettle next to him on the bench, and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot. He turned over his shoulder when he heard the door.

“Oh, Mother.” He smiled slightly. “You can’t sleep either?”

She shook her head. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

“Not at all.” He shuffled sideways to make a space for her. “You can join me if you wish.”

Byleth felt bad for intruding; he’d obviously come here for some privacy, but her other option was to continue her pointless wandering. She accepted his invitation and sat beside him, and he offered her his teacup.

“I’ll get another cup if you’re averse to sharing.”

“No.” She took a whiff of the tea and the aroma sent a surge of pain through her chest. Chamomile. Her thoughts immediately went back to the last time she’d drank it, on that rainy day when she’d last shared tea with Dimitri and when he’d last been fully lucid, save for those fleeting final moments. Her hand shook as she took a reluctant sip. Maybe it’d been brewed improperly, but it tasted off to her.

“I’d hoped drinking Father’s favorite tea might help give me courage,” Étienne said.

“You’re nervous about tomorrow?” Byleth asked.

He shook his head. “Not tomorrow. What I fear is what comes after.” He rubbed his face, “I’ve braced myself for this day for the last six years. Dreaded it. I always knew it would come, but now that it’s here…” He ran his hand over his scalp and back through his hair. His fingers briefly caught on a tangle. “Even though I understand the job, it suddenly seems more daunting now that I cannot ask him for advice.”

She nodded in understanding and patted his leg. “You’re already a good king.”

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, Mother.” He took back the cup and gulped down the rest of its contents. After a pause, he refilled it. “I can’t much compare to him, though.”

Her brow pinched. “Don’t do that to yourself. He wouldn’t want you to either.”

“I know.” He took another sip of tea and passed the cup to her again. Then he sighed. “I accept that I cannot be a king like Father. What I can do is follow his example and put the people of Fódlan first and foremost.”

“Yes.” Despite the pain, her chest warmed. Neither she nor Dimitri had ever doubted that Étienne was a more than capable successor to the throne, but it was still nice to hear him reaffirm his father’s credo.

“Did Isabeau tell you about my intentions to revive Father’s proposal for universal public education?” Étienne asked.

She shook her head, eyes widening. “How long have you been planning that?”

“Since right after he unofficially retired. Isabeau has spent the last six years gathering intel from the commoners for me. I’ve made a few tweaks to the proposal, but it’s basically unchanged from how he drafted it.” He folded his arms. “I told him about my intentions at the party, and he warned me it would be an uphill battle, but I promised him I would find a way to see it through.”

Byleth vividly remembered how much Dimitri had lamented the failure of that proposal. He surely would’ve been moved by Étienne’s vow, despite his worries about their son taking on such a difficult task. “I’m sure it won’t be easy, but it will mean a lot to him if you can do it.”

Étienne scoffed. “Maybe not as difficult as I thought. Father had a list of the nobles who most vehemently opposed the initiative. I’m sure you can guess most of the names on it. Just in these last few days, I’ve been approached by more than one of them about it and they’re suddenly singing a different tune. Viscount Phlegethon had the conceit to suggest it would be a ‘fitting tribute to the late king’s magnanimous legacy.’”

“Bastards,” Byleth muttered, her insides boiling.

He nodded in agreement, his lips sporting a rueful curl. “I wonder what Father would think if I told him his death was what it took to finally pass his proposal.”

She let out a not-quite-laugh. Dimitri wasn’t averse to raging about certain political adversaries in private, but he could swallow his frustration and work with them if it meant accomplishing something for the greater good. “He’d probably be glad to see it pass regardless.”

“Probably.” Étienne chuckled under his breath, then he let out a heavy sigh. “For the good of the Kingdom, right?”

Byleth nodded. She rolled the teacup in her hands and then found herself leaning against his shoulder, not so much from physical fatigue but emotional. They sat in silence for a few moments, passing the cup between each other until it was empty.

“Will you return to Garreg Mach after the ceremony?” he eventually asked.

“I don’t know. I…” She trailed off, unsure of voicing her thoughts. She didn’t know where she belonged anymore. The castle was familiar, but it still felt wrong, and she doubted the monastery would feel any better, especially when she’d be walking past the room where he’d died every day. No place could truly feel like home without Dimitri, because her home had always been where he was.

“You are welcome to stay,” Étienne supplied. “Sira and I would be happy to host you for as long as you wish. And don’t worry about the rooms. Moving into the royal apartments is a mere formality at this point. We can stay where we are indefinitely.”

“Thank you.” Byleth sniffled and turned her face into his shoulder to muffle it.

“Mother…” His heart ached at how much she was still trying to hide her pain, especially since he knew she was doing it for the sake of him and his siblings. “If it’s too hard being here at the castle or at the monastery, I’m sure Isabeau would be happy to have you in Itha. You could even go to Enbarr with Tristan, though I admit I’d hate for you to be so far away.” He took her hand and leaned his head against hers. “Just don’t forget that we’re here for you, no matter what.”

She nodded, grateful but still feeling like she was being burdensome. Her thoughts reminded her of all the times Dimitri had apologized because he’d perceived himself as a burden, no matter what she’d said to the contrary. She had new understanding about how he must’ve felt.

“...I miss him so much,” she whispered.

Étienne nodded. “Me too,” he sighed, rubbing her hand. “To think it was about a year ago that the two of you left for Garreg Mach. I mentioned to Sira after we saw you off that it would be strange to not welcome you back in the spring like usual. I thought that was the extent to which I’d miss him for the foreseeable future.” He scoffed under his breath. “Strange how much can change in just one year’s time. Makes me wonder where we’ll all be one year from now.”

“I guess so,” Byleth murmured. Thoughts of what the future held, even the immediate future like tomorrow, were beyond her right now. Too much to consider, too confusing to comprehend. All that mattered was that Dimitri wouldn’t be there to see it, that fact a black void that consumed almost every bit of light in her world.

The coronation ceremony proved a bittersweet affair, as she’d anticipated. She would always be proud of her son, of Dimitri’s son, and Étienne more than deserved admiration and recognition as the Kingdom’s leader in his own right. But as she watched Nadia preside over the ceremony, Byleth couldn’t help but think back to the day she’d recited the same words and placed the same crown upon Dimitri’s head. Seeing Étienne rise at the end of the ceremony and hearing Nadia address him as ‘Your Majesty’ for the first time crushed one of the fragments of Byleth’s broken heart to dust.

After the ceremony, the grandchildren and great-grandchildren gradually dispersed to their own homes. Nadia stayed a few extra days to help with getting all of the offerings left in Camulus collected so they could be shipped back to the monastery. Fabian rode ahead with the many boxes, eager to get everything sorted and cataloged so he could begin arranging the auction.

“All of the paper items, the letters and drawings, are in this box,” Nadia said, gesturing at a crate the size of a large coffee table. “I can’t even make a guess at how many there are. Does anyone have an opinion about what we should do with them?”

“I suppose the letters should be considered part of the royal archives,” Étienne said. “We could give them to the librarians to organize and bind into books.”

“You mean an encyclopedia set,” Tristan deadpanned.

Nadia nodded. “That would be the best way to preserve the letters. I would like to read them someday.”

“...I might too,” Byleth whispered, surprising even herself with the admission. She wasn’t ready to peruse them yet, but the massive outpouring of support from the people was one of the few comforts she could cling to.

Isabeau rubbed her hand. “If none of you mind, I’d like to take the drawings. I have an idea for them.”

“Oh?” Étienne tipped his head. “Please don’t keep us in suspense; tell us what you’re plotting.”

“Well...Papa was always so averse to having anything made in his honor,” Isabeau said. “Remember how embarrassed he was about the cathedral window?” Her siblings all nodded, a fond exasperation flashing on their faces. “I was approached by several artisans in Camulus expressing the desire to make various things in memoriam for him, and I’m thinking of perhaps setting up an art installation dedicated to chronicling and celebrating his reign. Assuming I can make it happen, I’d like for the drawings to be a part of it.”

“What a lovely idea,” Nadia said with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” Isabeau bowed her head. “I was thinking about your eulogy. I thought...if I could do something to show how much Papa was loved, it would help inspire others to love the world as he did.” She sniffled and hastily wiped her eyes, prompting Nadia to embrace her.

“I’m sure it would,” she said, fighting tears of her own.

“I have no objections,” Étienne said. He looked to Tristan. “I trust you don’t either.”

Tristan shook his head. “Where will you build this museum?”

“I don’t know yet,” Isabeau said as she pulled away from her sister. “Fhirdiad seems the most obvious place, but I’m sure in time there will be no shortage of tributes to him here in the capital. Perhaps it might be better to put it somewhere else.”

“...Remire,” Byleth murmured.

All four of them turned to her. “Remire?” Tristan queried. “You mean the old ruins near Garreg Mach?”

The village had never been rebuilt after it was destroyed in 1180, as the few survivors had settled elsewhere and no one had been interested in reviving the site after the war. Even its name was largely lost in the present day. It was an open field amid scattered trees now, with only a few decaying foundations to ever indicate what it once was.

“It’d attract a lot of visitors there, being so close to the monastery,” Nadia said as she tapped her chin.

“No one’s laid claim to that area as far as I know,” Étienne said. “I can’t see why anyone would object if you proposed it.”

Isabeau smiled. “And it’s almost in the center of the Kingdom! It might be the perfect place. What made you think of it, Mom?”

Byleth blinked. Did she and Dimitri never tell them? She supposed it wasn’t an important detail in the grand scheme of things, but it still made her breath hitch thinking that she’d neglected to mention it after all these years. “It was where your father and I met.”

The four of them gaped for a moment, and then Isabeau hugged her and the other three soon enveloped them. “Have you told us that before?” Étienne asked. “I feel like it’s something I must’ve known.”

“I don’t remember,” Byleth said, swallowing a sob.

“Perhaps it was fated for that land to remain abandoned until now,” Nadia said. “I can’t think of a more fitting thing to build there.”

Isabeau was struggling not to break down into sobs. She squeezed her mother as tightly as she could. “It is perfect. I’ll be sure to put it in my proposal.”

“Thank you,” Byleth murmured, squeezing her back. Even with the persistent ache in her chest, it felt good to share this moment with her children.

Nadia wiped her eyes as she stepped back from the cluster. “As much as I wish I could stay, I must return to Garreg Mach.” She looked to Tristan. “I presume you and Cleo are coming with me?”

He nodded. “I did tell Fabian I’d help with the auction.”

“And from there you’ll return to Enbarr?” Isabeau asked. Tristan nodded and she pouted. “It seems even further away than before.”

“I promise I’ll do better about writing to you,” he said, giving her a pat on the head.

“I’ve heard that before,” Isabeau said. “You’d better mean it this time.”

“Are you packed, Mother?” Nadia asked.

“I’m staying,” Byleth said.

“Oh?” Nadia’s eyebrows went up. “How unexpected. I thought you didn’t wish to endure another Fhirdiad winter.”

“I have things to do here,” Byleth said. “And...I wish to stay close to him for now.”

Nadia nodded sympathetically. “Well, if you change your mind and wish to come to the monastery, I will send someone to bring you if Étienne can’t spare an escort. Even if the snow is ten feet deep.”

“Thank you,” Byleth said. They shared a hug and then she embraced Tristan. “Good luck in Enbarr.”

“Appreciated,” he replied. “I will write more, I promise. And I won’t wait so long to visit again.” He kissed her cheek as they parted, his eyes shimmering with affection. “We’re all here for you, Mother. No matter where we are.”

She nodded, wiping her eyes and managing to force a tiny smile. She wished there was a way Tristan and Nadia could stay, but she didn’t want them to put their lives and responsibilities on hold for her sake either. “Safe travels to you both.”

“Take good care of her,” Tristan said to Étienne.

Étienne smiled as he drew away from Nadia’s embrace. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and then suddenly pulled him into a crushing hug. Tristan yelped in shock and then huffed in amusement, struggling to move his arms to return the gesture.

“Be well, brother,” Étienne said. “It’d better not be another three years before I next see you.”

“You can always make a diplomatic visit to Enbarr, Your Majesty,” Tristan said with a slight teasing lilt.

“A tempting suggestion,” Étienne said. “But if it comes to that, I will make you regret it.” He gave Tristan’s braid an affectionate tug as he released his hold. “Good luck with your proselytizing. I’m thankful I’m not one of the parishioners you need to lecture.”

“Don’t think you’re immune just because you’re family,” Tristan said. “If you ever stray from the king’s path, I will give you an earful.”

Étienne chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”

“Until we next meet, be well. All of you,” Nadia said.

Byleth sighed to herself as she watched them depart. Étienne excused himself to get back to work, leaving her and Isabeau alone with the crate of papers.

“I’ll have Geraint take the drawings with him to Itha,” Isabeau said as she regarded the box. “That way they won’t accidentally get shuffled in with the letters. The librarians will have their hands full as it is.”

“Aren’t you going home too?” Byleth asked.

“No, parliament will be in session soon, and I like to be in Fhirdiad when it is, so I can be up to date on the latest news.” Isabeau smiled. “I was hoping the two of us could spend some quality time together too.”

Byleth’s chest swelled with relief. Étienne would likely be too busy with his duties to spare much time for her, so Isabeau’s continued presence would be a great comfort. “I would like that.”

As the first winds of winter swept through Fhirdiad, Byleth spent most days doing leisurely things with Isabeau at her side. They took all their meals and tea together, played board games and did puzzles, read books, and composed many letters to their friends and family. Tristan kept his word about writing back. Sometimes Sira would join them when she had spare time, and she helped teach Byleth some new knitting stitches and techniques. The scarf she’d been making for Dimitri was discarded, left in a box to languish despite nearly being complete. She couldn’t bear to look at it, tormented by thoughts of what might’ve been. She couldn’t even bear to make something blue, so her new project was a pink shawl intended for little Angela.

At the end of the Red Wolf Moon, a longing in her heart spurred her to finally re-enter the royal apartments. She did so late at night after everyone thought she had retired, permitting her a long, uninterrupted cry in solitude. The rooms were unchanged from how they’d left them a year ago, not a thing disturbed. One of Dimitri’s cloaks still hung against his wardrobe just as he’d left it. Byleth buried her face in the material hoping to smell his scent, and sobbed harder when she couldn’t detect it. It was so cruel. Every reminder of him hurt, yet she hungered for them like a traveler seeking water in a desert. Her memories alone were not enough; she needed physical connections to him as well, ways to feel his presence lest her loneliness consume her.

She wrapped herself in his cloak, and while it was at best a substitute, the weight of it did closely approximate the sensation of his arms around her. She brought it back to her new chambers and fell into the most restful sleep she’d had since his death.

She dreamed of him that night, where they were at some unknown formal event and they danced together amid a sea of faceless onlookers. He held her close and looked at her with the naked adoration he reserved only for her.

“You will never lose me. My heart is yours. It always has been, and it always will be.”

The next day, Isabeau helped her start sorting and cleaning the apartments. Most of Dimitri’s formal clothes had already been passed to Étienne, since they required only minimal alterations to fit. A few sets of casual clothes remained, and they were given to the tailors for scrap. There were bits of jewelry and other ornaments that were handed off to whomever wanted them, and then other mementos such as his training logbooks, journals, and personal letters that she kept. There was a box in his desk that contained every letter Byleth had ever sent him when they were apart. Its existence didn’t surprise her, but it still brought her to tears. She started rereading the letters before bed, and while they often made her cry, she found the new ritual helped her sleep. When she ran out of letters from her, she dug out all the letters he’d written to her and started rereading those too. They were more painful to read, but they allowed her to hear his voice again, as it echoed in her mind whenever she read his words on the pages.

All of the paintings were moved into her new room. She placed her favorite directly across from her bed so it would greet her each morning. It was a painting of the six of them together, done when Isabeau was about three years old. It showed Byleth and Dimitri sitting on a plush bench with Nadia, Étienne, and Tristan standing directly behind them while Isabeau was perched on her father’s lap. It was a formal image, as they were all dressed in fancy clothes and royal regalia, but they nonetheless all had relaxed smiles. A snapshot of a happy family.

She hung their wedding portrait right beside the bed so she could see it clearly even when only her bedside lamp was lit. Dimitri had said more than once that their wedding was the happiest day of his life, with only the births of their children rivaling it. Byleth agreed. Despite it being a formal portrait, it was quite intimate, making plain to even a stranger how deeply in love they were. Their hands were interlocked with their rings visible, and his other arm was around her waist while hers was against his chest. They were smiling at each other amid a held gaze. Looking at it filled her chest with both a sweet nostalgia and a painful yearning. The look Dimitri was giving her in the painting was as warm and loving as the one he’d given her in his final moments.

In the process of sorting, Byleth settled on her own burial vestments. She had her favorite archbishop’s gown, which was the same simple white style Rhea had always favored, but this particular one also had blue accents around the sleeves and skirt and a blue stole embroidered with the Crest of Flames on one end and the Crest of Blaiddyd on the other. Byleth had typically worn it with a special mantle, one with an inner layer of damasked ivory patterned with the Crest of Flames, while the outer layer was Faerghus blue and had the Kingdom’s coat of arms embossed at the bottom in gold. The collar sported a thick ring of white rabbit fur. The whole ensemble was meant to be appropriate for both church and state functions, a visual reminder of her dual roles. She’d last worn it at the gala celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary.

Dimitri had always told her she was beautiful regardless of what she wore, but there was a distinct look of reverence he’d had whenever she’d dressed the part of a holy woman, a look that’d always sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. He’d also always had a particularly rapacious look in his eye whenever she’d worn the Faerghus blue or any Kingdom emblems, especially in public, like it’d stoked a primal thrill in him to see her dressed as his queen.

With that in mind, she set the special mantle aside with her gown, along with her old medallion and the tiara Dimitri had gifted her for their twenty-fifth anniversary. It was a delicate wreath of lilies made out of precious white opal, and the centers of their petals and stamen were brushed with silver while the anthers were dotted with tiny lapis lazulis. She’d never forget Dimitri’s expression when she’d put it on for the first time, how he’d smiled at her reaction to it and how he’d kissed her and said it suited her perfectly. It was by far her favorite of all of her crowns, and she’d worn it often, even substituting it for her archbishop’s headdress for some less formal ceremonies.

Isabeau carefully folded the outfit and wrapped it in a layer of linen lined with packets of fragrant dried herbs, then she tied the parcel with a blue ribbon and tucked it into a cedar wood box for safe keeping. She sniffled as she closed the box, a tear dropping onto the lid.

“What is it?” Byleth asked.

“Nothing. I was just thinking of how beautiful you always looked in this outfit, and how it goes perfectly with the clothes Papa was buried in. It’s almost like the two of you will be attending a ball together.”

“I suppose so.” Byleth hadn’t thought of it that way, but as strange as the sentiment was, she liked it. “You think he’d approve of it?”

“He definitely would,” Isabeau said. She made a sad laugh. “Do you remember how nervous I was before my wedding?”

Byleth nodded. “You father wondered if you were having second thoughts.”

“I was,” Isabeau confessed. “It’s silly in hindsight...I was overthinking things and it made me doubt my own feelings. Even as I was walking down the aisle, I considered turning back, but then…” She swallowed and smiled. “I met Geraint’s eyes, and the way he was looking at me in my wedding gown was exactly the way Papa always looked at you when you were dressed up. That was what reassured me that I’d made the right choice.”

“Oh.” Byleth wiped her eyes. “I had no idea.”

Isabeau slid the box into the back of her mother’s wardrobe. “Gloomy as it is, it’ll be reassuring for us to know you’ll be wearing the clothes you wanted to wear when the time comes. I just hope that day isn’t anytime soon.”

Byleth bowed her head in a mix of guilt and sorrow. She hoped it was a day that would come sooner rather than later, not because she was eager to die, but because it was hard to find much that was meaningful in her life without Dimitri. Their children were grown and living happy, fulfilling lives. Things in the Kingdom were mostly peaceful and stable. Faerghus was moving on to a new era, making her feel like a relic of the past, like something that was holding the world back from progressing as it needed to.

She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear fell onto her lap. Isabeau sat beside her on the bed. “Mom? What’s the matter?”

“...I’m sorry,” Byleth sniffed. “It’s nothing.”

“Mom? If I can help, please tell me how.”

“You’ve done so much already. Your being here...I can’t tell you how much it’s meant.”

Isabeau took her hand. “I wish I could do more. I wish there was a way I could make everything hurt less.” She circled her hand with her thumb. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but please don’t hide your feelings for my sake.”

Byleth paused, not sure of the correct words for her emotions. “...I hate that he’s not here.”

“Me too. Everything in the castle reminds me of him. It feels wrong that he’s not here, like something’s missing. Part of me still expects him to walk through that door at any moment, or that I’ll run into him when I turn down a random corridor.”

“Yes.” It was a relief to hear someone else articulate her same thoughts. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her sleeve and then put her hand against her chest. “I hate this feeling in here...this emptiness. I can’t stop thinking about how much I miss him.” She swallowed. “I wish I’d had more time with him. That must sound selfish, considering we had a lifetime together.”

Isabeau’s brow pinched. “No, not at all. I wish I’d had more time with him too.” She sighed. “Even though Papa insisted, I regret so much that I went to that meeting. I wish I could go back in time and undo it, so I could’ve been there when he…” She trailed off, drawing in a sniffle.

Byleth nodded. “I’m sorry for you that you weren’t there. I’m sure Étienne wishes he could’ve been there too.” She squeezed her eyes shut as painful words bubbled up from the deepest recesses of her soul. Her voice quivered as they softly spilled from her lips. “...I hate that my birthday hastened his death.”

Isabeau gasped, her eyes going wide. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Byleth nodded and Isabeau threw her arms around her, hugging her so tight Byleth almost couldn’t breathe. She fiercely clutched her daughter back as she tried and failed to hold back her tears. What else was she supposed to think? Everything had spiraled after that day. Dimitri had had his bradycardia episode that very night and it’d proven to be the beginning of the end. The excitement had been too much for him, too overwhelming for his body and mind to handle. She’d known deep down it would be too much for him, but she’d gone along with the plan anyway because she’d been so eager to see everyone gathered together. She’d been selfish, and Dimitri was gone forever because of it.

“It’s not true,” Isabeau said through a strangled sob. “It’s not true at all.” She swallowed her tears as best she could and pulled back to look her mother in the eye. “Mom, you have to believe me...you have it all wrong. Papa...he was living for your birthday.”

Byleth blinked several times until Isabeau’s face wasn’t blurry in her vision. “What do you mean?”

“He wanted to do that party for you, because he loved you so much,” Isabeau said, her voice shaking. “I think he knew he was fading. And he was so worried about what that meant for you…!” She sniffed loudly. “He needed to see for himself that you wouldn’t be alone. That party was his reassurance that you’d be OK when he was gone.”

Fat tears rolled down Byleth’s cheeks. She collapsed against Isabeau into suffocating sobs, ones only rivaled by the ones she’d cried the day he’d died. Isabeau mimicked them, and they clung to each other like they were both afraid to let go.

“Dimitri…” Byleth kept repeating his name, and as she wept, memories began to coalesce in her head. How his idea for the party had come after his melancholy following their class reunion, how he’d been so excited as the plans fell into place, how insistent he’d been that she enjoy the day and not worry about him, how even during their last tea time he’d asked if the party had made her happy.

Her dear, sweet, wonderful, infuriating husband, eternally more concerned with the feelings of others over his own, even when he was dying. She understood now: he’d pushed himself through the summer in order to give her that day, regardless of whatever it might’ve changed about his health. He’d wanted to give her that day as a parting gift, and apparently he’d wanted it for his own reasons too. Did his rapid decline afterwards mean that he’d gotten what he’d needed from that day? Did that mean he was at peace now? That he hadn’t died with any lingering regrets?

“I made him a promise that day,” Isabeau said when she got her sobs under control. “I promised him I wouldn’t let you fall into despair, and that I’d find ways to help you keep smiling. So please...no matter what else you’re feeling, don’t place any blame on yourself. You know Papa wouldn’t want that.”

Byleth nodded as she hiccuped. It was another few moments before she had the strength to pull away and meet Isabeau’s equally puffy and red-rimmed gaze. She made an unexpected huff of amusement as she looked at the same beautiful blue eyes as her husband, her mouth curling up at the corners. Isabeau’s eyebrows went up and then her mouth formed a tiny smile too.

“Thank you,” Byleth said as she tousled her daughter’s bangs.

“You’re welcome. I love you, Mom. So much.”

“I love you too, starshine.” The nickname didn’t roll off her tongue as naturally, since she rarely used it, but it nonetheless made Isabeau’s eyes light up and her smile brighten, though they still bore tinges of sadness. Byleth resolved that she’d try to remember to use the name sometimes, as well as those for the others, to help them keep that special connection with their father alive.

The gift of the party would never compare to the gift Dimitri had left behind in their children, and she now had renewed gratitude for both.

They finished cleaning out the apartments just as Fhirdiad began decorating for the annual winter solstice festival. The city was alive with merriment as everyone hung wreaths and garlands of pine boughs, colorful ribbons and decorations, and magical lights that twinkled in a rainbow of colors after dark. The arrival of the holiday, which coincided with Dimitri’s birthday, brought a renewed wave of grief. Étienne, unable to find his usual good cheer, delegated his duties in overseeing the festival to a trusted aide. The castle’s decorations were scaled down compared to previous years too. He made a decree that people should celebrate in Dimitri’s honor, but he struggled in dealing with the pageantry without getting emotional.

Geraint and his children arrived from Itha, and that helped Isabeau’s mood, but she was still obviously faking much of her enthusiasm. Geraint brought her a new gown for the traditional ball, a stunning silver and blue creation with a flowing skirt adorned with hundreds of sparkling glass beads. She was excited about wearing it, but she and everyone else shed tears when she expressed regret that Dimitri couldn’t see her in it.

Byleth mostly secluded herself in her room to avoid everything. She hated how the world was treating this year’s solstice like any other, and she hated herself for her resentment. Rationally, she knew that just because she was struggling didn’t mean everyone else shouldn’t celebrate a holiday that’d always brought them joy, but it was difficult to grasp that feeling when the shards of her heart throbbed so painfully.

On the day of the solstice, it took a great deal of goading for Byleth to join her family for a quiet meal, and she declined to participate in any of the events in the city and skipped the ball. Royal widows were expected to wear black for a minimum of a year after their spouse’s death, but they were encouraged to participate in public events and festivals if they desired. The tailors had even supplied her unprompted with a black ball gown that was quite elegant despite its somberness, but it was Byleth’s black mood that kept her away, not her color palette. She didn’t care if she ever wore anything other than black again. She’d enjoyed dressing up when she’d being doing it for and with Dimitri, but now it seemed pointless.

Isabeau hovered like she intended to skip the ball too, despite her beautiful dress, but Byleth insisted she go if she wanted and not fret over her, so Isabeau reluctantly left her for the evening. From her balcony, she could faintly hear the music from the ballroom. Below in the distance, Fhirdiad was illuminated with hundreds of tiny lights that glittered like a sea of stars fallen on the snow. It was a perfect winter’s night, cold, clear and still, with a big silver crescent moon hanging in the sky.

She’d taken to wearing Dimitri’s cloak in her chambers when she was alone, but it didn’t provide much comfort tonight. She shut her eyes and tried to imagine his arms wrapped around her in its place. She swayed to the music, thinking about all the dances they’d shared at the solstice ball, how he’d steal kisses when he dipped her and how she’d tuck her head against his chest, of how they’d get lost in the moment and in the music, oblivious to all of the onlookers and the passage of time.

“Happy birthday, Dimitri,” Byleth murmured. She pulled the cloak tighter around herself, burying her nose in its fur. A year ago at this time, they’d been at Garreg Mach and they’d had a quiet dinner together with a cake they’d shared for dessert. He’d been in good spirits that day, jovial and content, and she never would’ve guessed that it would end up being his last birthday.

Tears ran down her cheeks and she left the balcony to flop into bed, curling up in the folds of the cloak while also clutching it like a security blanket. As grateful as she was for the presence of her family, nothing could truly ease the pain inside her chest. She knew they were all grieving too, and yet she felt entirely alone in misery. She kept thinking back to a time long ago when she’d first experienced true grief and how it was Dimitri’s presence and words that had helped her find her way forward, but that memory brought her no solace. She felt hopelessly stuck in place. The irony wasn’t lost on her that the one person she most needed to comfort her after losing Dimitri was Dimitri himself.

“You are not alone,” a voice said.

Byleth gasped, thinking she had to be hearing things. It’d been a lifetime, but she knew that voice as well as any other. She slowly sat up and her eyes went wide at the sight of Sothis hovering at the foot of the bed.

“Sothis? Is it really you?”

She nodded. “Surely you have not forgotten my face, even after all this time?”

“Sothis…” Byleth choked back a sob, unsure what emotion lay within it. “I...it’s been so long. I thought you’d vanished forever.”

“I also said I would always be with you,” Sothis said. “Our souls were joined that day in the forest. I have been with you all along.” She floated closer, hovering in a sitting position directly next to Byleth. “I have been watching over you all this time. I must say...you have done quite well. This life you have lived, this world you built with your prince...it is clear I was right to place my faith in you.”

Byleth sniffled. “I’m...it’s good to see you. But why now?” She could think of many, many other instances where she’d wished to speak with Sothis, to ask her opinion on some moral dilemma, philosophical question, some bit of church policy, or even just to talk about raising children.

“Is that all you can say?!” Sothis folded her arms. “Aged though you are, you are still but a child. I just told you our souls are joined. Do you not understand what that means?” Byleth tipped her head in confusion. Sothis huffed in mild annoyance. “It means I can feel the pain in your heart as if it were my own.” Her pouty expression morphed into a sympathetic one. “And I know this day has been particularly hard for you. I wish to ease your burden, if I can.”

“Oh.” Byleth forced a little smile. “Thank you. But I don’t know if there’s anything anyone can do to make it better.” She swallowed. “Not unless you can bring him back.”

“Hm. I remember how you struggled to grasp your feelings for the prince back then,” Sothis mused. “It was quite frustrating at times, especially that time he called your smile ‘mesmerizing’ to your face and you thought the ‘funny feeling’ inside of you was indigestion!”

Byleth blushed. “No one had ever said anything like that to me before.”

“Yes, I know. I suppose your ignorance can be forgiven in that case.” Sothis smiled. “It is gratifying to see how far you’ve come considering where you started.” She nudged Byleth’s chin upwards. “The intensity of the pain you feel is a reflection of how deeply you loved your prince.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier to bear.”

“No, of course not,” Sothis said. “He was a part of you. To lose him is akin to cutting out a piece of your own flesh. That pain is the price that is paid for forging such a strong bond with him.” She paused, taking a long look at the wedding portrait. “Tell me, do you think your prince loved you as deeply as you loved him?”

“I know he did,” Byleth said, angry that Sothis would even suggest otherwise.

Sothis nodded. “Consider then, what it would’ve meant if you had been the one who died and left him behind.”

Byleth’s eyes went wide. It meant Dimitri would be suffering this pain instead. The same Dimitri whom had borne witness to so much death and loss in his life, whom had never stopped carrying the weight of those ghosts. The Dimitri whom loved so intensely that it once drove him to madness and despair.

Her mind brought forth the memory of how distraught he’d been last winter when she was sick, to the point where he’d stopped eating and even failed to recognize Nadia, the only time that had ever happened. How much worse would his memory problems have become if Byleth hadn’t been able to remain at his side? She recalled the time he’d had a nightmare where he’d thought she’d died too, and how fitful he’d been in his waning days except when he’d recognized her presence. Just as he’d been the linchpin of her life, so too was she the linchpin of his. She felt lost without him now, so he would’ve felt just as lost without her.

“I know how you’ve always desired to protect him,” Sothis said. “And I know of your regret that you could not protect him from the fate of all mortals. But there are many different ways in which we can protect our loved ones from harm.”

“You mean that by bearing this pain….I’m protecting him?”

“Just so,” Sothis said. “Does it help you to think of it that way?”

Byleth put a hand to her chest. The shards of her heart pulsed beneath her grasp, still painful, but with a new sense of purpose. Many times during the war, she’d shielded him from swords and arrows without hesitation. So too would she choose to shield him from this invisible wound, because she would never, ever wish for Dimitri to experience the intensity of this grief. And the thought of how much he might’ve suffered in her absence was enough to break her heart all over again.

“It does,” she murmured with a sniffle. She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave Sothis a helpless look. “...But I still miss him.”

“Of course you do.” Sothis played with a few strands of Byleth’s hair. “You always will. But he is still with you even if you can’t see or touch him. He lives in your memories of the life you shared, as well as in your children and descendants and all of the other lives he touched across the world.”

Byleth nodded, then she pursed her lips. “I...I want to move forward. For my children if nothing else, but I don’t know how. Everything seems so...meaningless when I can’t share it with him.”

Sothis hummed, a thoughtful tilt to her head, then she floated over to the balcony. Byleth slowly rose to join her, still clutching Dimitri’s cloak around her shoulders. She followed Sothis’ gaze outside to the city below.

“This world you built with your prince is worth cherishing,” Sothis said. “I know he cherished it. I know you do too.”

“Yes,” Byleth agreed.

“I think he would ask you to cherish it in his stead, now that he no longer can,” Sothis said. “Hold onto the beauties and joys of this world for him. The sorrows too. Keep them in your heart alongside your memories of him. Your lives were as one, so live your life for him as well as for yourself.”

“Live for him.” Byleth let the words linger in her mind, testing how they felt. It still seemed like a hard and lonely existence; she wanted so much to feel his arms around her, to talk with him about everything and nothing, to just exist in his presence again. She hunched herself into the cloak and shut her eyes for a moment. She knew Dimitri wouldn’t want her to wallow in sorrow for the rest of her life. He would want her to be happy. He would encourage her to keep living too, to feel joy and experience all of the world’s wonders without him.

“Whatever happens...we have had a wonderful life together. From the bottom of my heart...thank you for all of it, Byleth. My beloved.”

“I’ll try,” she finally said as she opened her eyes. Sothis smiled in approval, though it was tinged with a sympathetic sadness too. They turned back towards the balcony and looked over the city in a comfortable silence for several minutes. Byleth’s gaze slowly traveled up to the blanket of stars hanging in the sky and the glimmering silver moon. “Sothis?” she finally asked. “What happens to us when we die?”

Sothis tsked and folded her arms. “That is not something you mortals are meant to know. Your lives are fleeting things. I am not averse to you pondering philosophical questions, but you only get one life to live, and I would encourage you to live it rather than occupy yourself with concerns about whatever may come after.”

“Oh.” Byleth couldn’t help but think Sothis might be deflecting rather than offering earnest encouragement.

“Death is not something a mortal need fear, especially if one has experienced a life well-lived,” Sothis said. “For them, death is an ending, but it is not the absolute end of everything. Such souls can leave this world without regret, knowing their good works will live long after them.”

Byleth unconsciously rubbed her ring. Her throat constricted. “Do you think he had regrets?”

Sothis’ brow pinched. “Ah, I see what it is that truly weighs upon your heart, aside from your grief.” She floated closer and lowered her voice to a gentle whisper. “He passed in your arms, Byleth. Everyone should be so fortunate as to leave this world in the presence of the ones they love most.”

Byleth let out a quavering sob, sinking into Sothis’ embrace. Dimitri’s last utterance of ‘beloved’ echoed in her ears, but along with it came memories of his restlessness, the way it’d seemed like he’d been trapped in a nightmare. She cried quietly for a few moments as Sothis stroked her hair, then Byleth sniffled and pulled back enough to look into Sothis’ eyes. “Can you at least tell me...is he at peace? Is he safe wherever he is?”

“Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts,” Sothis said. “I promise your prince is in a safe place, and that he is at peace.” She kissed Byleth’s forehead. “I will promise you this too. When the time comes for you to depart this world, I will see you brought to the place where he waits for you.”

“Really?” Something fluttered inside Byleth’s chest, like a flock of birds taking wing. “I’ll get to see him again?”

Sothis nodded. “Indeed.” She wagged her finger. “But only when the time is right, and not one moment before. You must promise me to be patient in return, and to make the most of your remaining time in this world.”

Byleth nodded back. She took a deep breath, inwardly asserting her resolve, and smiled a little, feeling lighter than she had in months. “Thank you, Sothis.”

“You are most welcome. I am happy I could be of help.” Sothis touched their foreheads together. “And you also have my gratitude for using my power so wisely. Thank you for caring for this world. If ever you are feeling lonely again, remember that I am with you. Always.”

“I will.” Byleth gave Sothis a little wave as she floated away and then vanished into the air. Warmth thrummed in her chest even though she was alone in the room again. Outside, the twinkling festival lights began to dim as the hour grew late. She closed the balcony doors and the drapes, then climbed into bed and blew out the lamp. She snuggled under the covers and into the folds of Dimitri’s cloak. Though she couldn’t actually see it in the dark, she stared at the wedding portrait until her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Byleth returned to Garreg Mach the following autumn, after the permanent monument was properly placed at the gravesite. The monastery felt the most like home, but there was still something wrong about it, a notable absence that hung over it like a shroud. She stayed there through the winter, but by the next spring she had an urge to return to Fhirdiad in order to visit Dimitri’s grave. From then on, she maintained a tradition of returning north for a few weeks during the warmer months. She hated the journey; it got more arduous each time she did it, even when going by air, but she couldn’t bear staying away from his resting place indefinitely.

There were many moments of joy in the years following Dimitri’s death. Byleth attended several weddings and celebrated the births of more great and great-great grandchildren. But there were also many moments of sorrow as one by one her cherished Lions passed on. Mercedes passed the spring after Dimitri, and it wasn’t shocking when Dedue followed barely a month later, as to Byleth’s eyes he’d already appeared as a ghost at the burial. His sons posited that with Dimitri gone, losing Mercedes drained Dedue of his remaining will to live. Felix and Sylvain passed the following year on the same day, mere hours apart. Byleth couldn’t help being jealous of their good fortune, and sometimes she’d bitterly stew over it on her bad days. Ingrid died two years later, and then Ashe another year after that. Annette was the last of them to go, living to the ripe age of ninety-three.

Byleth attended all of their funerals, offered condolences to their families, and felt her heart grow heavier with each loss. Each time another one of them perished, she again wondered how much time she had left. Even with her vow to Sothis ever in her mind, there were days Byleth wished her end would come faster when her body ached and her loneliness overwhelmed her. But still she lived on. Despair nearly consumed her when she noticed Isabeau developing her first gray hairs, and Byleth feared her unique origins might damn her to outlive her own children too.

As her one-hundredth birthday approached, Byleth stayed in Fhirdiad for the whole summer, and she spent many of those days sitting by Dimitri’s grave. The groundskeepers set up a comfortable chair and shade umbrella for her, and she brought her knitting, books, a picnic, and tea each day. She talked to him sometimes, even read her books aloud as if he were listening, but of course his statue never said a word. It was difficult to contemplate that he’d been gone almost ten years already, as her loss often felt as fresh and painful as ever. She still wore black majority of the time, rarely bothering to consider other colors, and she’d heard all the whispers of pity at court for how she was still in mourning. It didn’t bother her, because despite what they meant by their words, she knew living her life and grieving Dimitri were not mutually exclusive.

“Over here, Father!” a small voice called one day.

Byleth watched as a blonde cherub ran towards King Lambert’s nearby stone. The boy didn’t notice her at first as he was too focused on what he was looking for. He startled when he turned back and realized the chair was occupied.

“O-oh, hello, ma’am,” he said with a hasty wave.

“Hello,” Byleth said. The child’s face was so achingly familiar.

“Lambert, I told you not to run ahead,” Philippe admonished, short of breath as he jogged into view. His eyebrows went up when he spotted Byleth. He gave her a small bow. “Hello, Great-Grandmother. Uncle mentioned we might find you out here.” He beckoned to his son, who obediently went to his side. “Lambert? This is your great-great-grandmother, the dowager queen Byleth.”

The child’s eyes lit up. “The Guardian of Order? I’ve been learning about you in school.” He smiled and bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you!”

Byleth managed a small smile. “It’s been a long time, Lambert. You’ve grown a lot.”

Lambert tipped his head in confusion. Philippe chuckled. “You attended her ninetieth birthday party, though you were just a baby.” He looked at the gravestone. “Your great-great-grandfather held you that day too. It was a scant few weeks before he passed away. I’m so glad he got to meet you, however briefly.”

“So am I,” Byleth murmured. She’d never forget the look on Dimitri’s face when he’d held that tiny baby, or when Philippe had requested to name him Lambert.

“The Savior King,” Lambert said with hushed awe as he stared at the monument. “I’m named after his father.”

“That’s right,” Philippe said, patting him on the head. He looked to Byleth. “I had some business in Fhirdiad, and while we’re here, he wished to see his namesake’s grave.”

“Ah,” she hummed. She looked at Lambert. “Have you learned much about King Lambert in school?”

“A little,” Lambert said. “Mostly about how he died in the Tragedy of Duscur and how that led up to the Unification War.” He regarded the monument again. “Is it true you were King Dimitri’s teacher before you got married?”

Byleth nodded. “I was. He was my prized pupil.” She followed his gaze to the statue. “But I learned many things from him too. We taught each other.”

Lambert’s eyes got big as he spun back towards her. “Did he teach you Paraselene? I read that was his secret lance technique.”

She smiled. “No, nothing like that.” She put a hand to her chest. “He often said I taught him how to live, but he taught me how to love.” The child’s confused look almost made her laugh. “I’m sure you’ve heard that your great-great grandfather was a very kind man.”

Lambert nodded. “Father and Great-Grandmother have both said so. Teacher says that’s how he became the Savior King.”

“Yes. I was a mercenary before I became a teacher. They called me the Ashen Demon because I didn’t express much emotion, even when I killed. It...frightened people.” Byleth gazed longingly at the statue. “Even he admitted he found me unnerving at first, but it didn’t stop him from trying to know me as a person. From reaching out to me with a kind hand. He put his trust in me not as a hired sword, but as a teacher and friend. No one had ever done that before.”

She had to pause as she felt her chest and throat painfully constrict. She murmured an apology and Lambert came closer and looked up with her with concern as well as a silent plea that she continue. After a moment, she tentatively tousled his hair, and he smiled a little and laid his head in her lap. It gave her a warm nostalgia, recalling how her children used to do the same.

“His kindness, his trust, meant everything to me,” Byleth continued. “He had a big heart and it came with big feelings. Observing his feelings, learning about his strong convictions...it helped me understand my own emotions and how to better express them. It led me to the path I wanted to walk, the one that allowed me to stay at his side.”

“You loved him a lot,” Lambert observed.

“I still do,” Byleth said. “I haven’t stopped loving him just because he’s gone.” She smiled sadly. “It is very painful to lose someone so special, but the life we shared...I would choose to live it over again if I could.”

Philippe and Lambert both smiled. “I bet he would say the same thing,” Philippe said.

Byleth nodded in agreement. She ran her hand through Lambert’s hair again. “If you learn nothing else about your great-great-grandfather, I want you to remember that he didn’t become the Savior King because of divine providence. He is as revered as he is because that is the path he chose for himself, because he chose to be honest, just, and loving.”

“I’ll tell that to my friends,” Lambert said with a solemn nod. He looked between her and her waiting grave thoughtfully. “They’ll be so jealous when I tell them I got to meet the actual Guardian of Order. Is there anything I should tell them about you?”

“Hm.” Byleth leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes for a moment. “You can tell them how honored and grateful I am that he chose me to be his partner in life, as his teacher, friend, and wife. That our love for each other is reflected in the world we built together.” She looked down at him with an impish smile. “And tell them I said they should study hard and do their homework.”

Lambert made a sour face. “You really are a teacher.”

Philippe chuckled as he reached for his son’s hand. “Thank you, Great-Grandmother. It was good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” she said. She wondered if she would ever see either of them again, a persistent thought she had whenever she encountered someone she hadn’t seen in awhile. “Safe travels back to Gloucester.”

“And you as well to the monastery.” Philippe gave another respectful bow. Lambert mimicked him and mumbled a thank you. “We might visit there sometime next year. It’s been awhile since I last saw Grandmother Nadia.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it if you do.” She waved until they’d disappeared from view, and then she went back to her knitting. Her current project was a pale yellow receiving blanket for Isabeau’s next grandchild, due sometime this winter, and she was determined to finish it before she departed for Garreg Mach in a few weeks.

Byleth didn’t return to Fhirdiad after that summer. The journey was simply too hard on her body. She knew Dimitri would understand, but it still made her sad and guilty to stop visiting his grave. To compensate, she brought all of the paintings with her on the last trip, along with all of his letters and journals and his old cloak, effectively dousing her room in reminders of him. She’d told her children to donate whatever of it they didn’t want to the museum in Remire upon her death. A duplicate of the wedding portrait was already there, prominently displayed alongside many other paintings, murals and objects documenting Dimitri’s life. There were of course lots of pictures and writings about her in the museum too, since their lives were intertwined, and there was a section dedicated to the Lions. Isabeau had made sure to draw particular attention to Dedue, not just for his role in the war and the Duscur reconciliation, but as Dimitri’s honorary brother. The children’s drawings from the funeral were made into a giant collage that took up an entire wall, and copies of the books of letters were there for visitors to peruse.

The museum became a popular attraction almost immediately after it opened. The public schools steadily springing up across the Kingdom in particular brought many of their students there for field trips, often combining it with visits to Garreg Mach, just as Nadia had predicted. Byleth visited the museum only once. It filled her with the warm but painful nostalgia she’d come to expect for everything regarding Dimitri. The looks of awe upon children’s faces as they explored it was particularly heartening, and she believed it would serve its intended purpose in inspiring others to follow his example. The museum was even funded wholly through donations, allowing it to be free and open for anyone to visit no matter their station, in keeping with Dimitri’s legacy as a king for all people.

Along with all the paintings from Fhirdiad to keep her company, Byleth also set up the old bird feeder at her window, and she delighted in observing the different feathered friends who visited, especially during the colder months when going outside was unpleasant. One of her most frequent guests was a lone male bluebird, his bright plumage stunning no matter the season. He seemed unaffected by her presence, even looking at her through the window at various points, surveying her with his keen eyes as he flitted about and devoured the mealworms she left specifically for him. Sometimes he even sang his sweet song, as if he were calling his mate to join him in his feast.

But his lady never showed.

She watched from a distance as Fódlan continue to grow and flourish under Étienne and Nadia’s steady hands, while Tristan and Isabeau continued to carve their own paths in their more minor ways. Étienne named his eldest, crestless daughter his eventual successor, and Nadia eschewed passing her role to any of her children and selected Marie as her successor. There was little drama about either decision, as Marie was more than capable of the job and none of Nadia’s children truly desired to be archbishop. Étienne, following in his father’s footsteps, had made strides in passing more of his authority to the parliament, making his daughter’s Duscur blood and lack of a Crest further proof of how Fódlan was changing. Byleth remained so proud of all of her children and everything they accomplished as they left their own marks on history, just as she and Dimitri had known they would. She knew Fódlan would remain in good hands when they inevitably stepped away from their duties too.

As her family celebrated her one-hundred eighth birthday, Byleth felt her body slowing even further and her mind cloaking itself in an increasingly thicker fog. She was sleeping more and less inclined to leave her room, and her infamous appetite all but abandoned her. Nadia always looked concerned when she checked on her, and she was never mollified when Byleth reiterated that she was fine, just tired. All she wanted to do was sleep, maybe work on her knitting, and watch for her bluebird friend to come to the feeder. That was all.

She kept dreaming about chasing after Dimitri down a long corridor, his retreating back always five steps ahead of her. The day when she’d finally catch him had to be coming soon, didn’t it?

By the Ethereal Moon of that year, she found she lacked the strength to leave her bed. Her children and several of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren gathered at her bedside. Even Étienne made the journey from Fhirdiad to sit with her, which was nice but also strange because he surely had more important things to do. Tristan and Isabeau held her hands. Everyone looked sad, but Byleth didn’t understand why. She tried to tell them there was no reason for anyone to cry, but she’d lost her ability to speak.

The world went dark. Like a whisper on the wind, she heard Sothis’ voice. “It is time. You may go to him now.”

Byleth opened her eyes to a field of flowers, a veritable ocean of valerian and chionodoxa in full bloom stretching as far as she could see. The line between the ground and sky was poorly defined, making everything wispy and dream-like. She glanced at her hands and found them strong and youthful.

A figure appeared at her side, extending a hand to her. “Hey kid,” a deep voice said. “Good to see you.”

She stared open-mouthed at Jeralt. He looked just as she remembered him. Standing at his side was a woman with green hair bearing a gentle smile, and Byleth immediately knew she was Sitri, her mother, the woman whom sacrificed her life so Byleth could live. There were so many words she wished to speak, questions she wished to ask, but nothing would manifest. All she could do was take his hand and stare at her parents.

Other figures began to appear around them as if they materialized from thin air. Byleth turned in a circle to meet their faces: members of her old mercenary troupe, soldiers she’d commanded during the war, her colleagues from Garreg Mach, Gilbert, Rodrigue and his wife and another dark-haired man whom resembled them, and then a tall, regal blonde man. The sight of him stole her breath for a second until she recognized him as King Lambert. At his side was a striking woman she’d never seen before, but Byleth thought there was something familiar about her facial features.

Then each of her Lions appeared one by one, all of them young again and smiling brightly. “Hey Professor!” Sylvain greeted with a wave. “Glad you finally made it.”

“We’re glad you could join us, Professor,” Ingrid said.

“We missed you, Professor!” Annette, Ashe and Mercedes chimed together.

Felix smirked in his familiar way, tipping his head and folding his arms. Dedue smiled and wordlessly put a hand on her shoulder, and then gestured towards the gathered people with his other arm. Byleth’s eyes followed the motion, and she watched as the crowd parted like a wave, until she could see one figure standing prominently at the center of the congregation.

Her mouth formed his name, but no sound emerged. He stood tall and strong, his blonde hair rustling in the faint breeze and his two blue eyes shimmering with emotion. He smiled warmly and held out his arms, and Byleth closed the distance between them instantly, her soul soaring as she leapt into his embrace.

“Dimitri!” she cried, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.

“Byleth,” Dimitri murmured in her ear, his deep voice wavering. He held her close, kissing and nuzzling her neck. “Welcome home, my beloved.”