Her embroidery has improved over the past month, no doubt thanks to Mercedes training. There's no doubt that she's doing well because she already had a strong foundation with sewing skills, thanks to her life as a commoner in a small village who had to sew all her own items, but that had all been quilting blankets and simple clothing— not creating birds and beautiful flowers across fabric, like she's trying to do now. Perhaps she should be spending the last moments of free time they have in Fhirdiad training, like the others are, but in truth... she's relishing in the brief moments of peace.
It's the times where she doesn't have to watch her back, where she doesn't have to constantly have a weapon in her hands, that she realises she's not built for war. Not mentally, not physically, and certainly not emotionally. Now that she's not on guard all the time, expecting an enemy attack of some kind, she's woken up several times after horrible nightmares. Her hands, stained with blood that doesn't wash off no matter how hard she scrubs. People wearing Imperial armour, their faces blurred, but her weapon is thrust through their chests and stomachs, bursting like soap suds. They're awful dreams, that make her feel sick to her stomach in a different way than her prophecies made her feel. At least with them, there was a realism to everything that occurred. In her nightmares, the dead can walk and talk, can curse her for what she's done.
She takes comfort in the fact she's not the only person who suffers from dreams like that, at least.
Lilia pauses from her embroidery to look up. She's currently sitting in an office room in the castle, quietly accompanying Dimitri whilst he works on some of the kingly duties he needs to perform before they leave for the front lines. She can't help watch him for a few moments, his brow furrowed slightly and his lips pursed as his quill scratches parchment, the setting sun dying him in the colours of warmth.
Despite the fact it's no good for her heart, for the feelings that she wishes she could tamper down but simply can't— out of greed, out of longing, she lets her gaze linger on him. On the way the light hits each strand of his hair, no longer limp and heavy from a lack of care but glimmering like the sun itself has been woven into threads. On the way it bounces off of his pale skin, like he's carved of the same marble as those statues of the Four Saints she'd seen at the monastery. The focus in his eye, the intensity similar to how it is when he's training. He reaches up, brushing locks of blond away from his face, and her fingers twitch.
Threading her needle in her work, she reaches into her pocket to see if she still has her spare hair-ribbon. Luckily, she can feel her old ribbon at the very bottom of her pocket, well worn perhaps but certainly still usable. Pulling it out, she checks it over a few times, making sure there isn't anything wrong with the ribbon. It's old, yes, and definitely made from a cheap black fabric, but at least it's not pocked with holes or worn right through. Slowly she gets up from the plush sofa and approaches Dimitri, her smile gentle.
"Is your hair getting in the way?"
He looks up, and she takes note of the shadow under his eye; clearly, the work he has to do is leaving him with a lack of sleep. "Ah... a little."
"I, um, I have a hair ribbon... Is it okay if I..."
The words die on her tongue, her face feeling hot from the embarrassment. She feels as though with each passing day, she grows more and more obvious with how she feels for him. It's painful, it grows harder to conceal them, and she longs to be able to just admit them— but they're during a time of war. That's not even considering the fact that he is a prince, a king, and she is a peasant girl from a destroyed village.
Dimitri's expression softens, just a little. "Of course. I'd... appreciate it."
Lilia lights up, like sunbeams off of a lake. Slowly and carefully, she moves around the desk to stand behind his chair. Even while sitting, Dimitri is so tall, but this angle is a new one for her. Gently, her fingers begin raking through strands of blond hair, tugging loosely at knots and removing them. His hair is softer than she would've thought it to be, considering she remembers a time where it'd been caked in filth and blood, but it's nice to feel under her fingers. He leans a little into her touch, his eye closing, and for a moment she can't help but compare him to a large cat being pat. It's so cute that her heart squeezes.
For a moment, her thumb brushes under his eye, at the dark circles forming again. His lashes flutter, and he looks up to her, her hand still resting on his cheek. His eye flickers up and down her face, and she too, cannot help but move her eyes from his to his lips. She inhales for a moment, temptation like butterflies in her stomach.
"You're... overworking yourself..." She whispers. Anything to stop herself.
He hums, low in his throat. "I am, but... I want to at least finish what I can before we must return to the front lines."
"Still... you need your sleep," She worries about his health. "You're our leader, after all."
She pulls her hand from his face, begrudgingly, and continues to do his hair. She pulls some of it back, enough that it stays out of his face, while leaving the rest back, looping the ribbon around the half-ponytail that she creates and tying it in a bow. His gloved hand brushes against the back of his head and neck, before he turns to look up at her again, his eye a gentle sky-toned blue. There is a pause, like time comes to a standstill, and she has to take a shaky breath in to stop herself from leaning in. Carefully, she pulls herself away from him, though her fingers linger in his hair.
"I'll take a quick break after I finish this, then," He brushes a hand over hers, so quick that she wonders if it had been a mistake. "I need to ask Margrave Gautier and the eastern lords to take back Arianrhod from the Empire..."
"Arianrhod?"
"It's a fortress in Count Rowe's territory, also known as the Silver Maiden. When he sided with the Empire, he took the Maiden with him... Now that we've regained control of the capital, the western lords are starting to rejoin us, but... There's no way the Empire will relinquish the fortress city," Dimitri sighs, and she can't help but continue to run her fingers through his blond strands, trying to soothe him a little. "To be honest, I would have liked to go and retake Arianrhod myself, but... We don't have the time."
Certainly, it would've been a good display of strength if they were capable of taking the fortress themselves, but... They have to leave for Myrddin in two days, and it'll take weeks to get there— they don't have the time to travel west to Arianrhod and then all the way eastward across the continent to the Great Bridge. Ultimately, they're best off to leave it to the eastern lords and hope to end the war as soon as possible.
Gently, she pats him on the shoulder. "It's a shame we don't have the time, but... I think we can rely on the Margrave."
"I can only hope so."
She manages to get Dimitri to take a nap after he sends letters off, though he spends their last day in Fhirdiad training with the others. Though perhaps she should've done the same, Lilia instead spent some more time in the library, reading up on the more 'noble' subjects like politics and how the nation runs, just because she feels horribly unintelligent when she compares what she knows to how much everyone else knows— though she did spend a bit of time reading up more on magic. In a way, she supposes that could be considered training, considering she's far better at magic than she is at melee.
The army gathers just outside of Fhirdiad's walls, waiting for the last of their supplies and soldiers to gather before they leave to march south. Lilia can't help but worry a little, as not once over the week has she heard anything about her armour, though she trusts Yuri to have at least let the armourer know where they were headed in case it turned out that it needed to be sent along with supplies instead of handed to her in person.
It shouldn't matter too much in the long run, though it would mean that she'd have to stay on the backlines if they intend on advancing into the Empire as soon as they return to Myrddin... She's unsure how she should feel about that. On one hand, being at the back means that any injured soldiers will pass through her and the other healers for emergency care, and she could save more lives like that... But on the other hand, being on the frontlines means she can protect those she loves with her magic... It's a hard choice.
"Good thing I caught you just before you left!"
She looks over her shoulder, surprised to see the blacksmith, with his salt-and-pepper beard and cheeks smudged with ash and charcoal. By his side is a horse, towing along a cart with a linen sheet thrown over it.
"Mister Simeon!" She makes her way over to him as quickly as she can, bowing her head a little in greeting as she does. "I-I'm sorry— I hope I didn't rush you with this job..."
The man scoffs, waving his hand in dismissal. "You're fine, missy. 'sides, that scoundrel of a boy's the one who rushed me. But, so long as I don't owe him anymore, and my work gets put t'good use protectin' a little lass like yourself, I can say it's a job that was worth takin'."
She smiles, a little shyly, tucking strands of silvery hair behind her ears. "Then, um.. I'm sorry on Yuri's behalf..." She pauses, and then can't help but ask, "Why did you owe him, anyway? I-If you don't mind me asking..."
Simeon grumbles, scratching at his beard. "Ah, well... He and his lot helped out my daughter back when the war first started..."
At those words, Lilia can't help but look over towards the crowd of soldiers, seeking out the colour of lavender blooms or maybe the warm reds of his clothes. She can see him, just in the distance, discussing something with Hapi, and can't help but stare for a few moments. Lord of the underworld he may be, but she certainly can't say that he's not secretly a kind person underneath that. After all, he wasted a perfectly good favour on helping her; a favour he received by helping someone.
"That sounds like Yuri," She says, gently. No wonder the professor relies on him. "—Oh, right, um! Thank you for making my armour. I truly, deeply appreciate it."
The man's expression is soft, something warm and paternal, and he gives her a smile. "Keep safe wearin' it, alright?"
With those words, he helps her unload the armour and shows her how to put it on. It's surprisingly comfortable, breastplate sliding easily over the dress she typically wore beneath the last set of armour she had. It's surprisingly pretty too, glimmering pieces of whitish metal smelted together to fashion something that'll keep her safe without being heavy or difficult to wear. And although the feel of the greaves and gauntlets is definitely different to her last set of armour, which had been quite battered, she thinks she'll get used to it quicker than she had in the past.
Once more, she thanks him, and makes a note to visit him once the war's truly over, to say thank you again.
The journey out of Faerghus and back into Leicester Alliance takes a little bit less time than it had to get there, because this time they can take short-cuts and main roads, longer needing to sneak around to avoid being seen by the Dukedom. By the time they're about half way through Gloucester territory, the Garland Moon begins, and rain begins to settle over the sky.
She cannot help but notice flowers wherever they go, blooms that would've been plucked and woven into crowns for friends and lovers if not for the war. It's hard to believe that summer is already here, though she supposes that's because she's so used to the weather cycle of the far northern reaches of Faerghus, where winters start early and end late, and the warmth is brief and dull. Already there is the beginnings of a humidity that lingers, and they've yet to reach the depths of the warmest season.
It is the same temptation that makes her eyes drift to a prince's lips that makes her pick wild white roses one evening, when the army has set up to rest for the night. The foolishness of a young girl made manifest, a brief moment of reprieve from her guilt where she allows herself a moment to long, to hope. Perhaps she should be upset that the seed of these feelings was planted within her heart in the first place, but she can't be— not when she would always choose to feel this way, even if it hurts her. She couldn't imagine her life without them. It's just... putting a name to it feels wrong, like once she does she can never feign innocence about it again.
Carefully, she starts to remove any thorns, using the sharpened blade of a simple dagger to shave them off, weaving the stems through each other with deft hands. She remembers living in the church in Kevik, little girls braiding garlands out of the blooming white roses that had surrounded the church grounds, whispers of childish puppy love and of a marriage between an eligible bachelor from a nearby village and one of the older girls in town; oh how jealous they were of her being able to be a Garland bride.
She finishes the garland, holding it between her hands, white petals against her pale skin. Taking a moment to look around the camp, she can see Mercedes and Annette helping hand out rations, she can see Dedue standing at attention in front of Dimitri's tent, where no doubt the prince is currently busy dealing with more paperwork. Her gaze lingers on the flickering of a flame within, the shadow of the person within a mere outline.
"Are you going to give it to him?"
She gasps, surprised and nearly drops the garland. Looking over her shoulder, she meets eye to eye with Dorothea, her beautiful green eyes framed by her brown hair. She gestures to the rose crown with a smile, and Lilia turns her head away, trying to not make her embarrassment too obvious.
"Who?" She mumbles, a weak defence that quickly breaks down. "...Please don't answer that."
With a quietly laughing, Dorothea tucks some of her long hair behind her ear and takes a seat beside Lilia. "You know... sometimes I think it's easier to pretend I'm in the opera right now. Where people don't die, they just... leave, stage left, and we all pretend we're fine and continue on," The woman laughs, but it's dry and almost sad. "There are lots of tragic tales in fiction, of loves that never come to fruition. Someone dies, or someone betrays another... But before my eyes, I don't think I see a tragic tale of hopeless love."
"I..." She looks back down to the garland. "I'm scared..."
"It's okay to be scared... but you wont ever know if you don't try."
She turns her gaze back to Dorothea, meeting the woman's eyes. The brunette's expression is soft, and she reaches out to softly pat one of Lilia's hands. Her lips purse, and she tries to swallow the fears down and follow the words of advice she's being given. She's done plenty of 'brave' things before, like joining the war effort and taking a place on the front lines, but those had been... different. Like, those had been for the 'greater good', for the people of her country. This is...
Lilia whispers out. "It feels selfish..."
"Oh, Lilia... It's okay to feel the way you do," Face concealed by strands of silver hair, stained in orange from the sunset, her face is warm, like the heat of summer. Dorothea's hand brushes hair away from her eyes, and she can't help but look up to the older woman, green eyes meeting azure blue. "You don't need to hide it."
Placing the garland on the ground before their feet, she keeps her gaze lowers to the roses, lest she start crying. Her breath is a little shaky, each one trying to be more controlled than the last.
"I just want him to be happy."
With a sweep of her hand, Dorothea picks the garland back up and places it in Lilia's hands. "You deserve happiness too."
She hadn't really thought about her own happiness before.
Lilia waits until the sun is completely set, and the night has taken over. She's already embarrassed to no end that Dorothea has convinced her to do such a thing, that she can't imagine doing it in broad daylight, where the entire army can see her. It's so utterly personal. She was already seen weaving the garland by plenty of people— at least she can claim she'd just been doing that because she was bored. It's far more difficult to explain giving it to someone. Especially their general.
With moonlight leading her way, making her hair and the flower crown in her hands almost glow, she finds the prince's tent; still illuminated by a candle within, flickering shadow within making her heart beat a staccato. Dedue isn't standing guard like he had been earlier, and briefly she wonders if perhaps Dimitri had shooed him off to go get some sleep. At the very least, it's easier on her to not have a witness watching her, though of all the people to see it, Dedue is probably the one she'd be most comfortable with.
She takes a deep breath, and summons her courage. "D-Dimitri?"
A pause, and she sees the shadow shift. After a moment of quiet, where the blood pounds in her ears so loud that she can barely even hear her own breathing, the tent flap opens, and Dimitri pokes his head out. He's clad casually, the black underclothes he typically wears beneath his armour clinging to his broad muscled shoulders. Though the colour of red roses stains her cheeks, she manages to keep her cool.
"Lilia?" His good eye drifts side to side before turning back down to her. "Are you alright?"
She nods, hands tucked behind her back to conceal the garland. "Y-Yeah, everything's fine. Um... May I come in?"
"O-Oh, of course..."
He lifts the opening a little more, and she carefully slides in beneath his arm, listening to it rustle closed as he drops it and she's swallowed by only the tiny flickers of candlelight. Combining with the scent of flame is paper and ink, as well as the ever present smell of weapon oil, and perhaps a hint of chamomile; which, now that it's hit her senses, she can see is coming from a cold cup of tea at his makeshift desk.
She turns back up to him, shadows casting lines across the angles of his face, handsome even in the dark. She inhales and exhales, the air entering her lungs warmer than she's used to. "I, um, had something to give you..."
He raises a brow.
"Um..." Lilia isn't sure what else to say, so she just slowly brings the garland out from behind her and holds it out. "Um, well— you see, so... I just saw these white roses blooming earlier, and well... I figured since it's the Garland Moon and all... It might be nice to make a garland..."
She wonders if it's the lightning, or if Dimitri's skin reddens. She wants to believe the latter. "I see... Thank you," Gingerly, he takes the garland in one hand, blue eye on it with a look on his face she can't quite describe. "I haven't received a garland since I was a child."
She smiles, and realises that she may have feared for no reason.
His other hand laces with hers, and the fragrance of roses lingers on their fingertips.
The army marches for a few more days, with the heat of summer growing more and more, the sun blasting down on their heads. For an army comprised almost entirely of northerners, the heat is definitely beginning to get to them. She lets out a sigh, wiping sweat from her brow, her gaze on the horizon. The land is growing more familiar, the main road they're walking along definitely one they've tread before.
If she squints, she can see it— the walls of the fortress surrounding the Great Bridge of Myrddin, and more importantly, a flag bearing the Crest of Flames.
They're back.
OK ROUTES HAVE LINKED BACK UP AGAIN!
me, shuffling around canonical dates because every important battle occurring on the last day of the month is stupid:
im very excited for the next few chapters :3c got some PLANS
guest: AAAH im so glad u like how i write yuri and byleth!
i always appreciate byleth bein kinda blank but still alive bc i can interpret him a certain way,
and i just feel like hes just Mega Proud and Protective of his Kids:tm:. in particular,
a fun lil fact i dont think will come up in this fic is that, my byleth only started calling them 'his kids'
when he fused with sothis! thats sothis' influence. she often calls them "the kids" or "the young ones"
ANYWAY! hopefully i wont take as long next chapter!
i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! thank you for reading! see u next time!