The farther I get into this story, the more acknowledgements I seem to be accumulating. Hopefully you don't mind author's notes showing up more frequently!
For this chapter, I actually have two of them.
The first is for the story "Lion's Pride" by SousChefSean [ID: 12570713], which was a great reference for me approaching Marianne's character early on. It inspired the brief plot point of her wanting to approach chores on her own here.
The second is to Runty Grunty [ID: 998422], who has been a frequent reader and commenter. They offered me a suggestion back in October that allowed me to flesh out a vague idea into something meaningful that flows well into the next chapter.
So yeah, go check those people out. They're super cool.
Part 1 — Red Wolf Moon
As the calendar flips into the Red Wolf Moon, winter had the Oghma Mountains firmly in its clutches. Signs of life around the Monastery continued to fade alongside the body temperature of anyone who dared to stray outside too long.
All of the excitement and energy fostered by the Battle of the Eagle and Lion sank into seasonal depression as students looked to the White Heron Cup and Garreg Mach Ball of the Ethereal Moon, which marked the end of the year with all the anxiety-inducing tribulations of young adult social experiences.
Grumblings of strange activity in Remire Village, where Byleth first encountered some of the residents of Garreg Mach, kept faculty and administrators on their toes.
But for now life, as they say, went on.
An all-black destrier snorts at the cool, earthy ground of the courtyard between Garreg Mach's stables. Its breath was hot steam in the chilly afternoon air, billowing against the ground and spreading over the shoes of the girl brushing back its thick mane.
"There, there…" Marianne mumbles, gently holding the side of the horse's face with her right hand as the other runs a brush along the hair running down its neck.
It was the first Friday of the month. Although the Blue Lions won the Officers Academy's biggest mock battle of the year, they were still on the hook for chores.
This month they were assigned to equine duties: Caring for the horses and cleaning their stables.
During their last day of instruction for the Wyvern Moon, Marianne had been quick to snatch up the responsibility. For her new classmates who were accustomed to the blue-haired cleric being quiet and standoffish, it was strange seeing her so forthcoming.
But many of them were happy to shirk their responsibilities onto an eager newcomer, as Marianne offered to do the whole month's work on her own.
'More time to myself,' she had said.
Byleth was less accommodating. He insisted that she, like everyone else, have a partner to take care of the chores. After all, a working duo would make the workload more manageable and to give her the chance to bond with more people.
That was why Dimitri could soon be found walking out of the enclosed holding pen that housed the horse Marianne was overseeing.
While his general appearance was untouched, the blond prince had a few extra accessories. The most notable piece was a cloak over the back of his armor: Black on the outside but navy blue on the inside, with fluffy white fuzz across the upper hem. It was a little too large for the boy and the bottom dragged across the ground.
But Dedue insisted he take on the extra source of warmth if he was going to be working out in the cold, and it was hard to say no to his kindly vassal.
He also carried a messy rake over his shoulder like a lance. The three-pronged fork at the end of the tool hanging over his back could have been misconstrued for a proper trident if it were not covered in dirt, horse droppings and loose bits of hay.
The boy pauses as he makes it outside, watching Marianne care for the animal he had been so ready to admonish seconds earlier for making such a mess.
In her hands, the combat-trained animal was like a puppy. Its stringy tail swung back and forth, and it kept its head ducked into her hands so she could continue mumbling in its ear. With the horse's head down, the boy also noticed a bit of winter flair on her usual attire: A lovely dark blue scarf wrapped numerous times around her neck, with one end hanging down at her chest.
He thought she looked much more comfortable adorning the less overstated piece.
"This one's done," he finally calls out.
As usual, Marianne starts at the voice cutting through her silent seclusion. The horse also looks up disturbed sensing her changed energy, but Marianne quickly calms herself so she can relax her equine charge.
"Good. I'm almost done with her. Then we can move onto the next."
Dimitri walks over to the other side of the animal and rests a hand on its broad back. He takes another moment to watch her work.
"The Professor was right," he remarks with a soft smile. "You have a wonderful way with animals, Marianne."
The girl freezes at the compliment and tries to hide her eyes behind her bangs, but can't quite cover the thin-lipped smile it brought her.
Luckily it was so cold outside that she wouldn't have to explain the red flush across her cheeks.
"I've always liked caring for them," she mutters. "Animals are far easier to talk to than humans."
Dimitri laughs and pats the horse's back. It whips its tail toward him in response.
"Well if I might ask, why aren't you traveling the path of a cavalier then?"
She looks at him with surprise, but Dimitri doubles-down on his focus. He sets his rake aside and circles around the horse to join her.
"Don't get me wrong, healing and medicine is a more than admirable pursuit. But it seems you might be more comfortable on the battlefield if you had a companion such as this to keep you grounded," he says before snorting back a laugh.
Even though his point of conversation was light and somewhat jovial, Marianne frowns. She turns her attention back down to the horse and sighs.
"I've looked into it before, but it's a wild fantasy at best." The girl gnaws at her lower lip. "I have no practical experience with lances, so I couldn't take the exams even if I wanted to."
Dimitri watches her, squinting and tapping his right index finger against his left arm. She shrivels under what seemed to be a judgmental gaze.
But then he smiles.
"Perhaps we could steal away for one-on-one training after we're done here."
Again, her eyes widen as she looks up at the prince. There are no signs of insincerity, but that somehow leaves her looking more nervous.
"Are you… Are you sure?" She clears her throat and folds her hands at her waist to pull at her fingers. "I wouldn't want to waste your time on a hopeless case."
"Marianne," he starts, but finds himself having to work through a chuckle. "I don't enjoy aggrandizing myself, but my knowledge of the lance is vast. To that end, I can at least assure you it wouldn't be an absolutely hopeless pursuit."
"I see," she mumbles.
When she glances down at her feet, Dimitri could tell he was losing the battle. So he keeps up the assault.
"Besides, lance combat could be a hidden talent of yours. You'll never know unless you try it out."
His ploy worked, as apparent by her looking back up with some confusion.
"A 'hidden talent'?"
"Sure. It's something the Professor has discussed with me quite often."
He takes the horse by its rein and starts walking it back toward the stable. Marianne follows closely behind.
"For instance, he saw some talent for black magic in Felix. The rest of us thought he was mad. It would have been inconceivable to see Felix crack open a logic tome back when we were kids."
They make it into the holding space and Dimitri starts undoing the animal's restraints.
"But now he appears well on his way to becoming a Mortal Savant one day, skilled in both the book and the blade." The prince shrugs. "He's even sitting through tutoring with Annette every other week if you can believe it."
Marianne giggles at the comment.
As soon as the horse was freed, she brings it back toward the feed Dimitri left earlier. Once it begins to eat, she turns back to her chores partner.
"It does seem silly to imagine someone like him learning from a girl like her," she agrees. "Annette feels a little too… Oh, what's the word…"
"Chipper?"
Dimitri grins.
"Yes, that works." Marianne covers her smile with a hand.
"So does this mean you are offering to be my Annette, Dimitri?"
He seems a little surprised by her verbiage, but does nod after a moment. He brushes back his cloak and rests his hands on his hips.
"Yes, I suppose I am." He looks down at the floor and shakes his head. "What do you say?"
There's a moment of silence as she thinks it over, but inevitably offers a bow.
"I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to learn from you, Dimitri." As she straightens out, she brushes the bangs from her eyes and smiles. "Thank you."
Some hours later, the duo had shed their winter apparel and taken to the Training Grounds at the opposite end of the Monastery.
The Training Grounds held an inter-house fighting tournament every month. Work was still being done to prepare for this coming Sunday's event, so the Tournament Officer was happy to allocate time for Dimitri and Marianne to use the space.
A lot of red tape had been put in place after Jeritza; once the enclosed arena's most frequent attendees as Garreg Mach's fencing instructor; was discovered to be the Death Knight and disappeared.
But the future King of Faerghus seemed trustworthy enough to commandeer it.
Thus he stood across from Marianne on the cracked and worn tile flooring, surrounded by rows of arched columns that hid a number of items and training weapons in darkness under the awnings they held up. Both students held lances with intentionally dulled iron spears atop their wooden shafts.
While Dimitri stood comfortable at a half-squat with legs spread to demonstrate a proper two-handed stance meant for basic jabs, Marianne struggled to emulate him.
She constantly had to lean forward and then straighten out again to hold up the heavier end of the weapon. Based on her muttering, she wasn't very happy with her less-than stellar performance.
"How does that lance feel to hold, Marianne?"
Dimitri knew what answer to expect, but figured it was worth asking all the same.
"It's… Heavy…" She responds meekly while hoisting her weapon up again.
He smirks and slowly shakes his head.
"Well I assure you these are the lightest weapons we have available. You may have to take some time to build your upper-body strength."
His smiley demeanor, meant to relax Marianne, seems to have the adverse effect. She looks away and lets out a shaky sigh, the tip of her lance grinding against the floor.
"I don't know that I'm cut out for this," she mumbles. The fearful apprehension in her voice is palpable.
Dimitri responds by standing up straight and twirling his lance to hold it vertically by his side. He approaches her with his free left hand outstretched, kneels slightly and raises the tip of her lance.
"With a little training, I assure you the weapon will be an extension of your arm."
As she holds a steady stance for him, Dimitri steps back and nods at her form.
"I know you're more an expert in distant, magic-based attacks. Have you done any research into how that might be of use in physical combat?"
The blue-haired girl tilts her head and stares blankly.
"When we did battle with the Death Knight in the Holy Mausoleum, and again in that dungeon, he channeled magic through his scythe." Dimitri can see her eyes brighten with understanding, and his lips curl into a smile. "I imagine there must be some spell books in the library that can speak to Combat Arts for enhancing your strikes through magic."
"That would make sense, yes." Marianne looks down at her hands and clutches the lance hard, seeing if she could prime herself to fill the weapon with energy.
It doesn't work. All she can feel is the wood halting her power like rubber does lightning, leaving an icy chill tingling along her fingers.
"I'll have to ask Tomas if we have anything like that when he returns."
"Whenever that might be," Dimitri chuckles, brushing off the librarian's recent absence from Garreg Mach. "In the meantime, let's start with a defensive exercise. That will probably serve your needs better."
The blond prince takes a jabbing stance and holds out his lance. It was parallel to hers, lingering just above it.
"If you're attacked in this position, you can easily parry with a sharp hit upward. Go ahead and try it."
After taking a moment to catch her breath, Marianne follows his instruction.
She brings the front of her lance up and knocks into his. The impact makes a subdued sound as the 'attacking' lance bounces slightly.
"That's the right idea, but you need to be more aggressive." He brings his lance down and knocks Marianne's weapon off balance, leading her to almost fall as her spear tip crashes into the floor. "Otherwise you're but a nuisance. Only delaying your fate."
Doubts echo in the back of Marianne's head, telling her to say that she would gladly welcome that fate when it comes. Outwardly, she tries to catch her breath. Seeing Dimitri so easily pull back into a neutral stance while her lance shutters against the cracked tile and pushes dirt around made her feel anxious.
But it also lit a fire deep in her core. She didn't want to just give up.
Not in front of him.
So the girl takes a deep breath and steels her muscles before pulling her lance off the ground. It comes up fast and smacks into his. This time the sound of their collision reverberates and Dimitri is surprised at how close he gets to losing the weapon.
But that surprise leads him to smile wider. He holds his lance above hers again.
"Better."
Marianne can feel his compliment tingle warmly down her back. She seems to hold her weapon more confidently.
"Now, again."
They go through the same drill a number of times. Marianne succeeds in knocking away his stationary weapon on multiple occasions before Dimitri can sense her energy diminishing through weaker and weaker blows.
Eventually he pulls his lance away by flipping it vertically again. He does so as she's about to attempt another parry, which leaves her following through aimlessly. She yelps at the motion and manages to stop it just before she hits herself in the head.
"It seems you understand the form," Dimitri says before taking a hop back. "But your opponent is not going to stand still and let you act. Are you ready for more?"
"I… I think so." Marianne was panting harder than before, but seemed eager to keep this going. Her brief success had sparked a clear surge of energy.
"Well then, let's see how you handle this."
Dimitri starts to slowly scoot forward; pushing his right foot out across the floor first and then letting his left catch up. With each approach he thrusts his lance.
Marianne easily deflects the first hit, making his attack fly past her head. After that she tries to keep space between them out by moving backward.
Seeing how well she's able to keep up, Dimitri intensifies. More and more attacks are thrown out closer to one another, to the point that Marianne starts panicking. Her parries become more frantic and she nearly stumbles while trying to back away faster.
"Don't ease up Marianne," Dimitri says in the gap between the grunts accentuating each attack.
"D-Dimitri, I…"
She doesn't finish her thought, cutting herself off with a yelp as she sloppily blocks a jab.
"Soldiers on the battlefield with challenge you with flurries far more overwhelming than this," he continues. "And I'm about to back you into a corner."
She briefly takes her eyes off of him, looking over her shoulder to see a pillar.
"W-What?"
"Eyes on me Marianne. If you lose focus, your opponent can easily…" With a sharp cry, Dimitri manages to hook her lance and knock it away. "Disarm you!"
As she watches her weapon fly into the air, Marianne screams and instinctively throws her hands in front of her face to defend herself.
The emotional outburst causes that power she had primed in her hands to explode out in an icy blast. With her eyes closed, all Marianne can hear is Dimitri grunt, followed by a heavy thud and the sound of clattering metal.
As her hyperventilating slows into a trembling whimper, she drops her arms.
She finds Dimitri on the floor, groaning. His lance was across the Training Grounds, lost when his arms were sealed to his sides by the jagged block of ice that now enveloped his chest. The fingers of his right arm were bent forward, poking out of the ice.
Every time he coughs, clearly winded by the hit, his free fingers twitch.
Oh Goddess, she killed him. For real this time. That's all Marianne could hear running through her mind.
"Dimitri!" She cries out before running over and dropping to her knees at his side.
"I'm so, so sorry. This was a terrible mistake; I never should have let you talk me into this. I knew it would go wrong because I'm pathetic and I hurt you and… And…"
Her words came out a mile-a-minute, but Dimitri was deaf to them. He was stuck on his back, coughing and trying to move anything above his legs or below his head. All he knows is she was freaking out, and he tries to cut that off by looking toward her.
"Marianne."
She tenses up with a squeak and grips her skirt with both hands, fully attentive.
"It's fine," he says. "You aren't the first of our allies to risk my life during a training session."
The prince tries to laugh, but it's interspersed with a cough.
Marianne seems curious as she rests her hands on the ice around his chest.
"I'm not?"
"You are not," he reiterates. Trying to bring a hand up to comfort her proves fruitless, as all he can do is move his fingers. "Mercedes once lost a training sword and nearly took my head off."
"Oh…"
"I suppose you can take comfort in knowing you are a better shot than she is."
This time Marianne joins Dimitri's laughter with a chuckle. There was something comforting about Mercedes screwing up just as badly — if not worse — than she had. It helped keep the golden pedestal she often lifted her fellow cleric onto in-check.
But their shared laughter ends when Dimitri doubles over with a harsh, bone-chilling sneeze. Marianne doubles back with widened eyes as he groans.
"That doesn't sound very good…"