Dietrich sat quietly on the top of the cliff overlooking the refugee camp, his feet dangling over the side, staring down at the flickering lights of the kerosene lanterns placed along the avenue running down the center of the camp. The sun had set almost an hour ago; dinner service at the dining tent had ended a while before that. A handful of the heroes were walking or flying around the refugee camp; among them he could see the Lancer flying lazy circles from north to south alongside Iron Maiden and one of the New Atlantis sorcerers; doubtless they were out on patrol together, though what kind of threat they could face in Angola was beyond him to imagine. Within their first couple weeks here, they had driven away all the criminals and super-villains hiding in the woods – most of them had been captured and were being held behind bars beneath his feet. Last week they had fought and virtually annihilated the Dark Acolytes of the Mundane. Luanda of course had its share of crime – a couple of the South American heroes had stopped a purse snatcher while picking up supplies from the city the other day – but how many of those criminals would be crazy enough to try anything with so many superheroes around? If he was being honest, this camp was probably the safest place in the entire country, regardless of whether or not the heroes patrolled it. He couldn't imagine any threats here.

Of course, wasn't the threat facing them back in Europe more than enough?

After reporting back to Ladybug and Cat Noir of what he had found, he had wished for nothing so much as to forget about the Tarasque, forget about the destruction it had done to the city of Tarascon, forget that he had answered the Heroes' summons so long ago. That first battle against the Tarasque in the ruins of Paris felt a lifetime ago. He had thought the fight against the Armanemagier was challenging – and with his relative inexperience it had been challenging. Had the Heroes of Paris not appeared then they did, he may never have been able to stop and arrest the Armanemagier. Then he had thought the Bear was dangerous – without the Lancer, as well as the British and Portuguese heroes, he and Valkyrie would have been hopelessly outmatched. He had listened to his Opa's stories, studied the records of the past Knights. Some of them had faced great challenges, perhaps even as deadly as the Bear had been. But was that the same as experience? Nothing had prepared him to face the Tarasque. And now they were going to do battle with it once more. They were armed better, reinforced by the African and Australian heroes, more focused and resolved… but would it all be enough?

A soft whoosh of air blew up past Dietrich's face, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"I thought I would find you up here," observed Valkyrie, ascending from below him and resting her elbows on his knees, leaning forward slightly to draw his gaze toward her chest. She looked up at him with a warm smile. "What's up?" Dietrich tried to return her smile, but his mouth twisted around into more of a grimace. Valkyrie frowned, studying his face more carefully, and leaned in closer, her eyes widening. "Dietrich, what's wrong?"

"I found it," told her quietly, letting out a breath. "The Tarasque, I mean. I found where it is. And the city… it's no more. The Tarasque destroyed everything in its path and turned that city into its own personal nest. And I'm not sure whether I feel guiltier because we weren't there to fight it – to try to protect that town. Or whether I feel guiltier because we are going to fight it again, and I don't want to put you in danger once more."

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow in amusement and rose up higher until she hovered with her head on the same level as his. "Is that all it is?' she prodded, folding her arms.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Are you asking if I'm scared?" He let out a breath and pulled out his pocketknife, testing its weight in his hand. With a thought he shifted its form from a pocketknife to a switchblade and extended the blade before willing it shut again. "Not really? I mean, I'm not afraid of death – I accepted that as a possibility, at least on some level, the moment I accepted the sword. Father warned me that those who live by this sword too often die by the sword; the Teutonic Knights throughout history have very rarely enjoyed a proper retirement." Valkyrie's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in shock, and her breathing hitched. Dietrich pursed his lips. "I admit, I hadn't really considered that possibility before we last faced the Tarasque," he continued, studiously staring down at the knife, twirling it around in his hands. "But now?" He shrugged, finally looking up at her. "Don't misunderstand: I don't want that to happen. I don't want to fall in battle. I don't exactly like the idea of dying. But if it comes to a choice between myself and someone else – if you are in danger – I will sacrifice my life gladly. If it means that you can live."

Valkyrie gasped and dropped seven meters down the cliff side before she caught herself on a cushion of air and rocketed back up to hover on the same level as him. Hands planted on her hips, she glared at him furiously. "Don't say that!" she almost yelled, poking him in the chest. "Don't even think something like that! Do you think I want to have to live with that!? Knowing that someone I love was killed to protect me?"

"And do you think I would want to live with the knowledge that I could have saved you but didn't?" he shot back.

"I would never ask you to–to sacrifice yourself for me!"

"You don't have to!" Dietrich caught her hand and pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her once she was close enough. The air pressure holding her aloft vanished, and she settled onto his lap as he held her. "I love you – of course I would do anything for you."

Valkyrie sniffled, hugging him back tightly, and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "Please, don't talk like that," she whispered hoarsely, blinking back tears. "It–it was bad enough when we first got here and I didn't know where you were; I–I couldn't handle it if I lost you like that."

Dietrich let out a breath, his stomach clenching from guilt. He had allowed his own fear out, and it had hurt the woman he loved: he had made her cry. "I'm sorry," he whispered back, running his fingers through Valkyrie's hair and pulling her mask off with a flourish, holding her against his chest. "I promise, I don't have any intention of doing anything like that. I promise I won't try to get myself hurt. But even more than that, I promise that I will keep you safe. No matter what."

Greta's arms tensed around his chest and she pulled back, staring into his eyes in concern. "What's got you thinking like this?"

He frowned. "This all feels so much more real now," he admitted, rubbing her back slowly.

"Knowing where the Tarasque is?"

"That's part of it," he agreed, nodding.

"But not all of it?"

He shook his head. "No… more than anything, it's this." She cocked her head in confusion, and he held up her mask. "It's knowing that it's you that's been fighting alongside me, knowing that it's you that could get hurt if something goes wrong. Knowing that you have gotten hurt before. It was bad enough when we were fighting the Dark Acolytes; they were it least still human. But the Tarasque?"

"Nothing has changed," Greta objected, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "It's been me under that mask the whole time. It's been me fighting alongside you ever since our first meeting at that bank robbery."

"That may not have changed," he allowed. "But now I know that it's you." He swallowed. "I didn't exactly like it before – I was worried about my partner getting hurt when I can actually take a hit – but that was the deal. You were a hero; you knew the risks. But now, knowing that the woman under the mask is also the single most important woman in my life, knowing what I would lose if you got hurt or–" Dietrich's throat closed and he couldn't finish the sentence. After a moment he let out a breath. "I don't like that I'm putting you in danger against the Tarasque, against a mindless Monster that doesn't hesitate to kill and destroy–"

Greta cleared her throat and placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. "You aren't putting me in anything," she retorted, giving him a look. "How many times to I have to tell you that? I may have started this because I wanted to get close to you, but I stayed with it because I want to help and I have a way to do it – and I'm even pretty good with this rune!" she added, pulling the wind rune out from under her suit and holding it up for him to see. Placing it in his hand, she flushed. "Unless… you want to take it back?" he asked hesitantly.

Dietrich turned the run over and couple times in his hands before letting out a breath. "No – it belongs with you," he finally told her, taking her hand in his and closing it around the rune. "I wouldn't take it away from you."

Greta sighed, tucking the rune back away. Dietrich followed the movement with his eyes, allowing them to linger a moment longer before she raised an eyebrow at him in amusement and his attention snapped back up to her face. Her smirk shifted into a fond smile, and she placed her hand on his chest. "Dietrich, I trust you. Absolutely." She nodded firmly. "I trust you with my heart; I trust you with my life. I know I'm safe whenever I'm with you. But now you need to trust me. I promise I won't put myself in danger – or more than I have to, considering what we're going to be doing. But you need to promise the same. Don't let yourself be distracted by the fact that I'm there."

Dietrich let out a breath and leaned in close, his lips just brushing hers. "I do trust you," he assured her, resting his forehead against hers. "I do. I just… I love you too much to really be happy about seeing you in danger."

She laughed softly. "And what makes you think I don't feel the same about you?"