Author's Note: This was mostly just an excuse for me to work out some personal theories on what happened to Dimitri's eye. I think the idea's rather interesting, so it's worth posting here.

Vision Problems

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you—how's your eye?"

Byleth paused and set her teacup down, her voice as neutral as if she'd just asked about the weather. Well, Dimitri supposed in most cases that question wouldn't be too bad. It had caught him off guard, though; it came after a series of otherwise mundane topics, like the army's stock of weapons, how much time he'd spent training lately, and some ridiculous thing Sylvain had gotten up to earlier.

And, Dimitri silently admitted, this particular injury was one he wasn't proud of. Of course, that was par for the course with him. Over the past five years, he'd done many things he wasn't proud of. This topic, though, was almost humiliating.

But Byleth hadn't asked how he'd damaged his eye, so that was a mild relief. She'd only asked about its condition. That, Dimitri could answer without embarrassing himself. He cleared his throat, fiddling with his saucer as he answered.

"Oh, it's—it's not too bad," he replied, trying to sound casual. "It is scarred, but…it healed a long time ago. The injury doesn't hurt my vision too much."

Byleth hummed in acknowledgement, taking another sip of tea before she replied. The pause somehow made Dimitri anxious, and he couldn't exactly look to her facial expression for an indication of how she'd taken that response. As much as he appreciated her presence, Byleth was usually a very difficult person to read, and right now he felt that more than ever.

"Well, if it's not causing you too much trouble, then I have nothing to worry about." She shrugged, idly glancing down at her teacup. "…Ah, I've finished my tea. Do you want any more?"

Thankful for the subject change, but no longer thirsty, Dimitri replied, "No, I'm fine. Do you need any help cleaning up?"

"It's fine; I can take this back to the kitchen myself. I was going to stop by the greenhouse afterwards, so it's on the way."

Byleth shrugged again, carefully gathering up the teapot, cups, and saucers. Then, she glanced down at Dimitri, gave him a small half-smile, and turned away.

"I'll see you later, Dimitri. Let's do this again sometime."

"Yes, let's."

He sighed as she left, absently running his fingers over his eye patch. Really, he should've been used to it by now, but… Somehow, having attention called to his damaged eye made him self-conscious.

At least he hadn't been too obvious about it, so Dimitri would do his best to ignore the nagging discontent in the back of his mind.

The rest of the day had been fairly productive, Dimitri was happy to admit. He'd gotten in a good amount of time in the training hall with Dedue after his tea with Byleth. That had been followed by a horseback ride around the monastery's perimeter with Ingrid and a late dinner. Now, he was back in his room, getting ready for bed.

He'd almost forgotten about Byleth's question from earlier until he slipped off his eye patch. Dimitri's eyes flickered over to the small mirror on his desk, and he frowned as he looked over his reflection.

A thick scar ran diagonally across his eye, starting just under his eyebrow and ending right above the top of his cheek. Normally, it was covered well enough, but the edges were occasionally visible if he moved around a lot and caused the patch to shift. His right eye had never quite opened all the way after being injured, either; the lids hadn't healed properly, and now they looked as if he was perpetually squinting. The worst part was that his eye constantly lagged to one side no matter what Dimitri did.

He…also hadn't been completely honest with Byleth. His vision wasn't damaged a little bit; it was damaged a lot. Dimitri was mostly limited to seeing shapes and colors on his right side. Technically, it wasn't a lie to say he could see out of that eye… He just couldn't see very well out of it. It made reading a nightmare, too; Dimitri had to rely entirely on his left eye for that, which always gave him a headache if he read for too long.

He sighed and glanced away from the mirror. Dimitri knew there was nothing he could do about it, and he'd vowed to be more careful from now on. It wasn't like he intended to make his left side match, after all. The chances of him repeating the incident that had led to that injury were low.

Dimitri ran his hand over the right side of his face. It had happened during a fight he'd gotten into about a year after his exile. He'd been attacked by a small group of bandits; they'd apparently mistaken him for a well-off traveler, given he still looked half-decent and was dressed "too well" to be an ordinary vagrant. Instead of trying to flee, Dimitri had immediately killed the lot of them, and he'd ended up taking a dagger to the face. He'd been too stubborn and prideful to seek out a healer afterwards, not wanting to drag anyone else into something that was his own fault.

Shaking his head, Dimitri sighed again. He didn't want to linger on old thoughts anymore—he was trying his best to move on from everything. Of course, Dimitri knew it wouldn't be that easy, but he could at least try to ignore some of the more "minor" issues he had. And his eye fell firmly into that category, as far as he was concerned.

He might just need a little help with some things from now on. But if he'd learned anything over the past few months, Dimitri thought as he settled into bed, it was that he shouldn't be ashamed to reach out more often.

It was with that actually-somewhat-comforting thought that he drifted off to sleep, hoping that he'd keep getting better from here.