* Author note : It's the end of Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 that is the start of the violent chapters, not chapter 4. I wrote the wrong one down in my last note. It deals with death / loss and might be upsetting.
Searching for Answers
Their efforts were but a drop in the bucket. No matter how much Gilbert and Dimitri worked, they barely dented it. Neither complained and dutifully carried on.
"We should break for supper," Gilbert suggested. Dimitri wiped his forehead, though he remained eager to push on, "There is still much to do. I ate not too long ago."
"Did you want to find the professor?"
Dimitri debated on how to answer that. He then remembered the cook mentioned the lack of the professor's presence in the dining hall during mealtime.
"If I can find him," Dimitri laughed, recalling his earlier failure.
"Let's go and see if he's queuing for supper," Gilbert nodded.
Dimitri added, "Mercedes and Annette mentioned he would be in the cathedral at 8. If we can't find him at dinner, I will try there next."
They walked the hall and talked about their next tasks. When they were out of earshot of council members, Dimitri asked, "I want to ask something . . .Is there a way to find records of anyone with the family name 'Eisner' who was also born in the last 25 years? They would have to be born outside the monastery."
"And here I was under the impression you wanted to leave it alone? You're trying to find the professor's birth documents, aren't you?"
"Then you recognize that name."
"Yes. I do. Seteth already spent time and effort collecting such information but let me be perfectly frank. Nothing exists for our professor beyond eyewitness reports of deeds."
"Back when I met the professor, some of Jeralt's men were about to tell me his name, but never completed it. None of those mercenaries could give an answer?"
"If they could, they elected to lie. It may have been an order from Jeralt."
"Do you think Jeralt purposefully kept the professor's identity a secret? But for what purpose? We can trace them back to each other, so what would they have to gain by hiding all of this?"
"Actually, we cannot trace the professor to Jeralt," Gilbert corrected, "Not by birth or by surname. The professor doesn't exist on paper and therefore cannot be connected to Jeralt Eisner or his other family. It's as if the professor doesn't exist."
"Araleth and Byleth . . ." Dimitri reflected with a hint of sadness.
"Unfortunate, that. Pardon me for saying, but a newborn who perished has more paper trail than the professor. Jeralt hid details and now Seteth is following through. What secret is so grand that they felt the need to conceal it?"
Dimitri shook his head. He felt his forehead tighten with frustration, "I do not know. To be honest, the more I think about it, the more confused I become. I should just put this to rest until the professor clarifies this."
"I wonder if he will."
"I will try to talk to him. He's dodged the question every time it's come up, though."
"Exactly my point. It seems you and I have both already looked into the Eisner family as a recourse – what exists of it, anyway."
"I noticed some oddities about those files," said Dimitri, "For example, the professor shares the same birthday as Araleth."
"Does he?" Gilbert had not notice that detail, "How strange. It might be nothing more than coincidence. Or, it might be something else."
Dimitri stopped walking and crossed his arms. He tried to think of an alternative reason. Gilbert clarified his concerns, "It seems that Jeralt did all he could to erase this child. Jeralt could have used a birthdate he already knew in place of the professor's actual one, to further this eradication."
"But why?" Dimitri asked, feeling his frustration surfacing.
"Honestly, I cannot think of a single good reason. There is something obviously wrong about the entire affair. I approve of the professor by his character. Everything he has done and continues to do has brought great fortune. And yet this entire pull is out of the ordinary, questionable in its very nature and contradictory to the professor's normal behavior."
"Whether or not the birthday is wrong is conjecture at this point. Still, the rest doesn't make any sense. I hope there's a genuine good reason for all of this."
They were at the cafeteria and mutually disbanded the topic. Shamir noticed Dimitri and approached, "Hey. The professor said he'll be at the cathedral at 7."
"Oh. Thank you for telling me. I'm guessing you found him and handled the weapon supplies," Dimitri smiled. She nodded.
"He also wanted to give this to you," It was a report detailing materials purchased and forge details, "Requisition is in place for the blacksmith. If you'll excuse me," She left without another word.
"Ah, the weapon situation," Gilbert reached for the paper, which Dimitri surrounded, "I see. He's favoring recovery of iron and steel over specialty ones such as silver and brave. A choice to make sure everyone is armed. That leaves us only a handful of expertise weapons."
"So, you knew about this as well," Dimitri inquired.
"I did, yes."
"What should we do with this report?"
"Review it. We have the power to veto this and propose a different solution. It can wait until later." Gilbert tri-folded the document and stuck it in his breast pocket. They lined up for dinner and conversed.
In the time they spent together, they avoided bringing up the 'Eisner Family' problem and instead focused on kingdom ones. Once they finished dinner, Dimitri and Gilbert traveled together to the cathedral, constructively arguing about the professor's proposed weapon solution.
Once they reached the cathedral, Dimitri finally saw the person he searched for off and on all day. Gilbert sat in a pew and read over the report while Dimitri approached him. The professor was talking to a man and a child. The man sat on a stool while the professor healed his shoulder wound. A brilliant white and blue light emanated from the professor's palm.
The child excitedly spoke in a high-pitched voice, "Isn't that right, daddy?" The kid said, "You can do a thousand push-ups and sit-ups! Look! Look! I can, too! Just like you taught me!"
The child then proceeded to put his hands on the ground and put his body in a full upside down 'V' position. His 'push-up' was more of him wiggling back and forth.
"Son . . ." The man shook his head. The professor smiled at the child's attempt to show off. The kid bounced back to his feet, then pointed at the professor, exclaiming, "Your turn!"
"Son!" the father said more forcefully, getting embarrassed.
The professor shook his head and said, "Oh, no. I am incapable of doing that."
The kid jumped around and ran to a pew, "I'm going to go do some training!" He said gleefully.
The professor finished healing and the father stood up, thanked the professor for his help, and chased after the hyper child. The professor laughed at the scene and, to Dimitri, it was the purest view.
He suddenly remembered his feelings toward the professor taking a similar turn five years ago, at the Goddess Tower. Or, before that even when Dimitri first witnessed the professor's sincere smile. Those same feelings overtook him, and all Dimitri could focus on was how amazing he found the professor.
The professor initiated conversation, "I hear you've been looking for me."
"Yeah," Was all Dimitri could manage. He stared at the professor, just appreciating the man. A sense of longing incapacitated him, overriding everything else for a short time.
It did not help the professor wore his warlock attire since switching personal focus, and those robes hugged his body and exposed muscle details that his normal armor would otherwise cover.
"Well, here I am. What did you need?" The professor said with a compassionate tone, barely breaking Dimitri from his trance.
What did he need, again?
Dimitri wondered what thoughts were going on behind those beautiful eyes fixated on him. The professor did not fidget under the staring contest. He stayed even keeled through it, patiently waiting for Dimitri to vocalize.
Unfortunately, they did not have an infinite supply of time and the kids gathered before the pews. The professor gently touched Dimitri's arm and pointed to where Gilbert sat, "The warmup is starting soon. Shall we sit?"
Dimitri nodded, still utterly dumbfounded. They walked and the professor promised, "We can talk after."
Gilbert noticed the change and stood, "I shall take my leave. We can pick up tomorrow."
"Not sticking around?" The professor asked.
"Oh no, too much to be done. You two enjoy yourselves."
"This will last at most two hours," the professor argued, "You don't have that much time to spare?"
"Afraid not," Gilbert remained firm. Dimitri wanted to say something, but Gilbert interjected, "The future king and the acting archbishop watching kids sing a concert is good for morale. I am not needed."
Gilbert left quickly after and the professor saw why he was so eager to leave. Annette and Mercedes greeted them.
"Hello there," Mercedes said.
"Glad you could make it," Annette said, "By the way, was that my father just now?"
"Yes," The professor said, "He will not be joining us."
"Ah," She pouted.
"I tried," The professor said.
"You're fine," Annette assured, still exposing her hurt, "Mercie and I were going up to help set up, anyway. Maybe next time."
"You two want to get music stands?" Mercie asked.
The professor nodded. Dimitri hesitated.
"I'm not sure that I should be around kids," he mumbled, "I might scare them."
Mercie gave him a concerned expression, "I don't think you would look all that scary to them."
"I don't feel confident about that."
"We're not pushing you into anything that you're not comfortable with," The professor said, raising an eyebrow, "Right?"
Mercedes cackled, "You're too funny, professor. Annie, are you coming?"
"Yup," They left to help set up.
"Getting laughed at was not the response I was looking for."
"That laugh of hers was a bit sinister."
"Mercedes has always been a tad evil," Dimitri chuckled at the professor's conclusion. The choir members helped the children set up in the mostly vacant chapel. Byleth wondered if there was a task that Dimitri could participate in, understanding where his hesitancy came from.
Then again, they both probably could use a break, so Byleth took a seat and left room for Dimitri. They settled in and wordlessly watched them prepare for the concert. Dimitri rehearsed how to approach the professor on the information he stumbled on.
He remembered all the concerns about his health, too, but waited to bring it up. He did, however, look the professor over to find the wound. It was as he thought – the professor had no obvious signs of being injured, though that was not too surprising.
After the stands and music sheets were in place, Manuela hushed the chattering children, who gave her undivided attention. At the wave of her hand, they 'ommed' in harmonious unison, then did a warmup. Families started filling the pews; knights, maids, nurses – all sorts of members vital to the church's success.
A mother who rocked a crying babe, probably around 6 months old, said to her husband, "I cannot get her to calm. I might have to leave."
"Is she hungry?" The father asked.
"Fed her ten minutes ago."
"Poopy pants?"
"No . . ." She patted the child's behind and said, "Dry."
"Bedtime?"
"I thought it would be okay. She had a long nap but if not she could fall asleep here."
Byleth listened to the cry. Something in him knew the answer, "Her first tooth is coming in. She's feeling discomfort."
"What? She's too young for that," The mother stuck her finger in the child's mouth and felt a bump in the gums, ". . . Honey? Do we still have a teether in that bag?"
"A teether?" He dug around and found something she could use. The child calmed down as it brushed against her incoming tooth.
"How did you know that?" The mother asked, "We have two older children and their teeth did not come in this early. Well, thank you!"
"Do you have kids?" The father asked.
"No."
"Ah. You'll be a natural parent when the time comes," The father chuckled.
"I don't think I'm going to be a parent," The professor spoke quietly.
"It happens, whether you're prepared for it or not," The dad winked and the mother took her seat with the pacified infant.
"Not with my taste," he mumbled even quieter and no one heard.
Dimitri stated, "You really do have all the answers . . ."
"Not really . . ."
Dorothea and Manuela began to address the audience, greeting them and expressing gratitude for all in attendance.
The audience stilled, the lights dimmed, and the kids began their routine. It was a standard concert. The children were decent, if you considered their developing voicing still had a ways to go.
It was a good thing the professor sat on the side of Dimitri's patched eye; if he had constant visual on the professor, Dimitri would have ogled the entire time. He looked over periodically and was surprised that the professor kept his focus on the production.
Dimitri had the feeling that the professor had a bond of sorts with these kids. Thinking about it in those terms, Dimitri began to understand the professor a little more.
The audience applauded between songs. Halfway through the next song, Dimitri looked over and noticed the professor's eyes growing heavy. His head bobbed as he started to give into sleep.
Dimitri lightly nudged him. The professor woke and looked at Dimitri. He yawned, covering his mouth, then rolled his shoulder blades.
He stayed awake through the rest of it, yawning occasionally and shifting to remain conscious. Manuela and Dorothea once again took to the front and presented a closing ceremony and last thanks, before dismissing the children to their families. The light in the cathedral returned and chatting filled the room.
The professor stood up and pointed toward the outside of the chapel, toward the tower. They dodged the crowds of united families – the atmosphere was joyous and celebratory.
They could still hear their merriment from outside, but they were alone under a calm evening sky.
"45 minutes," The professor said, "Understandable. Kids don't exactly have that great of an attention span."
"How long do these normally last?"
"With Manuela and Dorothea in charge? Something like three hours. They do love a lengthy drama."
"You come to these often, then?"
"For the shorter ones, I do. Gilbert wasn't wrong with what he said earlier . . . The ones who don't fight are often left in anticipation when we depart, so it's good to ease their anxiety while we're here."
"So, you come here to boost morale?"
"It's also enjoyable. Not very many chances to just sit down and not focus on anything."
"Do you like opera?"
The professor shook his head, "Not really. I like the plays more, but those always end up with song and dance too. Can you imagine that in real life? Suddenly breaking into a song after every emotional experience."
"Not at all."
"It's really immersion breaking, if you ask me."
Dimitri smiled, "I didn't see that one coming. Do you ever perform?"
"Not a chance. I'll leave that to the professionals."
Dimitri remembered the dead stare as Mercedes said early, and baited him, "Surely, you're on a professional level by now if you're showing up to practice. You should sing in front of an audience."
"Oh, no," The professor crossed his arms, "I am no expert. Believe me."
Dimitri laughed in response as Mercedes was proven right. They did have similar responses and it filled him with more joy than it should have.
"Are you finished?" The professor said, though he smiled as well.
"I'm sorry," He said catching his breath, "It was just something Mercedes said earlier."
The professor sighed, "Mercedes. Should've known."
"Oh, yeah?" Dimitri asked.
"Well . . . It's nothing, really. I just don't want to perform."
"Hmm," Dimitri felt very little sympathy, "You chose me for the Heron Ball, remember? Now you know how it feels to be put on the spot like that."
"Oh, hush. If you hadn't reacted the way you did, I would've chosen someone else. Too funny not to at that point. You won that, remember? You're welcome," The professor joked along.
"Just as I captivated the judges, you can captivate the audience."
"Only if you join me."
"Not on your life. My voice isn't very good – though word has it, you have a lovely singing voice."
"Damn it, Mercedes," The professor cursed, "It's not that great."
"The fact that two opera stars are pushing this much tells me otherwise. Can you imagine the morale boost from that?"
The professor clicked his tongue and had a menacing look in his eyes. Dimitri knew that meant the professor was on the losing end of the argument. Dimitri was far from done stirring the pot, "It does feel good to be on the other end of this. Now I see why you enjoyed my suffering through the dance so much."
"You're playing with fire. Just remember that."
"Not the first time I've been burned."
"Next time a battle gets rough, I'll come up with a number just for you. But only if you wear that lovely dancer robe."
"Oh. That's a hard one."
"I take it you had a real reason for wanting to see me?"
"I did. This is infinitely more entertaining, though."
"Oh, I know it is."
"Perhaps I shouldn't tease you. I used to worry about how you take it."
"I've survived plenty of battles. Do you think words can touch me?"
"Maybe the right words. From the right mouth. Preferably in a singsong tone, in front of the entire monastery."
"Yours? Should I point you to the signup sheet?"
"Don't turn this around on me. They want you, so this is your battle."
"They outnumber me three to one. Are you really going to leave me to the wolves?"
"Okay," Dimitri chuckled, "Phrased like that, maybe I can spare some sympathy."
Despite the cool breeze, Dimitri felt warm. On the rare times the professor bantered, it always ended flirtatious.
"Speaking of wolves," the professor said. He looked past Dimitri, toward the chapel entrance. From within, Manuela emerged and involved herself in their conversation.
"Well, isn't this a treat. Our prince and our archbishop sat together and enjoyed the children's act. I'm glad you could spare some free time."
"Yes," Dimitri nodded, "They did well."
"Of course they did! Wouldn't put the little tikes out there if they couldn't perform. Formalities aside, professor, I wanted a word with you. When I went to count supplies, we had a discrepancy with the pain medicine. Care to explain why?"
"I am not in charge of medical supplies. Ask someone else," He suddenly switched to icy again.
"What was the discrepancy?" Dimitri asked.
"Somehow we ended up with extra medicine. The same given to our professor."
"What a coincidence." The professor yawned, "I am well spent. I think I'll call it a night and rest. Doctor's orders."
"Don't you 'Doctor's orders' me! That's one hell of a coincidence, don't you think? Or, maybe the reality is you put them back instead of taking them, as I actually instructed!?"
"I was only returning what was misplaced. No miscalculation."
Manuela huffed, "Why are you being so difficult? Those were meant so you didn't have to suffer through much pain."
The professor shook his head, "I'm not in any pain."
"Really?" Manuela pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and dropped it on the ground, "Oh dear, how clumsy of me. Can you please pick that up for me?"
"I don't see why the burden of that responsibility falls to me. In this light, it blends into the stone and I wouldn't be able to find it, regardless."
"You wouldn't be a gentleman and help a lady out?"
"Don't those pins come in cases? You can find a replacement easily enough."
"Hmph. You really are rude. Fine. If you find yourself writhing, don't come sobbing to me."
She left the two of them and all became silent once more. Some of Dimitri's earlier worries came back and he asked, "You're not lying about being in any pain, right?"
"I'm fine," His tone was rife with agitation.
Dimitri pressed his concerns, "I heard from a cook earlier that you haven't been seen eating in the dining hall lately. You are taking care of yourself, right?"
The professor shrugged.
"That is not an answer. When was the last time you ate?"
"This morning. . ."
"That's still not ideal. Was it at least a full meal?"
The professor avoided eye contact.
"Well? What was it?"
"I can't remember something that inconsequential."
"Hmm. That's a strange way of saying 'I'm lying through my teeth', don't you think?"
"Do I need to keep a food log for everyone who seems to think my dietary habits are their business?"
Dimitri crossed his arms, "If multiple people are asking, then there's probably cause for concern."
"Should I get a journal and timestamp with signatures after each time I eat?"
"If it's necessary, then sure."
"Make sure you do some shopping around. I expect a gold star for each time I successfully complete an assignment."
"Why are you being so flippant about this?"
"I'm feeling a bit lightheaded and you berating me is only making it worse. Not you, you. Just the general you. All of you. I can take care of myself. Been doing it for quite some time now."
Dimitri had a moment of DeJa'Vu from the academy days.
"You sure the lightheaded part isn't due to lack of nutrition?"
"The human body can survive a week or more without food. I'll manage."
"Really? That an admission, professor? How many days in a row have you gone without food?" Dimitri asked, "Or, have you lost track?"
The professor sighed, "I've been eating – here and there."
"Snacking? That is not enough." Dimitri tried not to get angry, but the professor was being very difficult. He realized how similar the pair of them were.
"I just don't have the time for that."
"So, you have time for choir and plays, but not enough for dinner? I'm having a hard time with your priorities."
The professor shrugged, "The infirmary overflow is here, where I bandage wounded soldiers. The aftermath of Gronder's been keeping us busy. Besides, I remember you skipping out on food. Don't get 'holier than thou' on me."
"That is true. I cannot deny that. The meals I do eat are heavier in protein, though."
"Well, if we start holding each other accountable, maybe we'll get somewhere. Or, we enable each other's bad habits. Either which way."
"That's one way to look at it," Dimitri hesitated to ask, but followed with, "Do you want to start having lunch together?"
The professor's rigid demeanor softened, "Pick a time. Otherwise we will just keep missing each other."
"What's your routine?"
"I don't have one," The professor chuckled, "I walk around in a circle, remember things along the way, and get accosted into doing chores by others. There's really no rhyme or reason to any of it."
Dimitri sighed heavily. The crowd in the chapel thinned out. The professor shuddered, reacting to the cold; Dimitri gently grasped the professor's arm and said, "Let's go back in. it's getting cold out and you're underdressed."
Byleth allowed Dimitri to lead. Although they went in to escape the cold, a relentless chilling draft invaded from the crumbling dome. They sat down in the first row of pews. Only a few of the candlesticks were still lit.
"I keep hearing that Gronder was bad," Dimitri couldn't remember it at all for the most part, "What's your take on that?"
"I would not repeat it if possible."
"So, pretty bad then . . ."
". . . Yeah, it was." Byleth said. A drain washed over him and he knew he would not last much longer, "Before it gets much later, what did you need from me?"
Dimitri fell silent, thinking about the nightmare that involved the professor, "I just wanted to see you. That's all."
"Ah," The professor's face was warm and inviting, "Well, if that's all, I'm free for the remainder of the night."
Dimitri's heart raced again. He probably meant until bedtime, but Dimitri pictured a recurrence of his birthday and cursed himself for it.
Instead of pursing it, Dimitri said, "We shouldn't carry on too long. You still need to eat and rest."
"If you're ordering it, I won't refuse."
"Stop being so melodramatic. This isn't the same as me giving a command."
"Is it not? Will you lay off if I refuse? No? Then tell me the difference, my lord."
"You're a really difficult man, you know that, right?"
"Lucky enough for you," The professor tucked some of his hair behind his ear, "I don't mind the thought of taking orders from you."
Dimitri balled his fists, gripping his thighs in the process. Byleth laughed internally at his reaction, and change the topic, "How's the kingdom tasks coming along?"
"Oh," Dimitri paused, "We won't make too much progress until we take back control. Otherwise, what we can get done is . . . well, it's a mess."
"You'll get there."
"Confident as ever, aren't you?" He was sounding discouraged again.
"What else should I be?"
"'Humble' is out of the question, I suppose."
"As if there were ever any doubt to the contrary."
"Well, it's rarely steered you wrong, so not harm in it. There aren't many who can claim the same. I hope you'll keep that in mind."
"Somewhere in the back. Where people's names are stored."
"You forget everyone's names. But, I think that was your point?"
"Nothing gets by you," Byleth winked.
"You can be a bit cruel sometimes. One moment you're praising and encouraging, the next, downright insulting."
"I'm sorry. I meant nothing by it. Just giving you a hard time, but I will watch what I say more carefully."
"Oh?" Dimitri's own face lit up, "So, humility IS in your grasp! I have to say, professor, I didn't know you had it in you! I'm so proud of you!"
Byleth's face dropped, "You set me up?"
"Not intentionally, but it did work out beautifully. You know what they say about when opportunity presents itself. I accept your apology, by the by."
The professor puckered his lips, scrutinizing Dimitri. Dimitri responded by laughing loudly, saying between breaths, "I remember a time where you denied partaking in banter such as this. Do you realize how much you've changed?"
"That is only natural. You, and all the other students, have all grown in ways I didn't expect."
"Yours is by far the most drastic, if you don't mind me saying."
"I'm not entirely sure that's true."
The last of the families left and the choir members also cleared the vicinity. They were the only two left in the area, aside from the guards presumably standing watch outside.
"Professor, there is something I wanted to ask you about, now that we are alone."
"I'm listening."
"When I went looking for you earlier, I stopped by your room thinking you might be there."
"Oh, that was you. I thought Manuela was being passive aggressive about me taking my medicine."
"Sorry for that confusion. I wanted to give them to you in person but ran out of time."
"No worries," The professor straightened the creases in his robes. His fingers were long and narrow – and distracting.
"While I was in your room," Dimitri focused, "I saw a name on a scrap of paper in your room. 'Eisner'."
"Oh."
"That's Jeralt's last name, so it should be yours. Only, I can't find anything that matches for you. I know I snooped, and I should have asked you first; but isn't it time you cleared this up?"
"It might just be. What did you find?"
"Well. . . Do the names Araleth and Byleth mean anything to you?"
"Yes. They do."
"Then you know about Jeralt's deceased wife and child."
"Strange. Where did you find information on . . . on Byleth?" He had a hard time referencing himself like this. When was the last time he spoke his own name?
"The library has a certification of birth and death."
"Ah. The library. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Interesting. It sounds like you're . . . Anyway, there isn't much point. No one else bears the 'Eisner' surname with any connection to Jeralt. . .which leads to a lot of confusion as to where you fit in."
"He did that intentionally," The professor admitted.
"To erase your existence?"
"You came up with this in one afternoon? It's actually kind of impressive."
"So, it's true then? What's the point, though? It's almost like he wanted to hide you away."
"You're on the right track."
"Care to elaborate on that?"
"Even I'm struggling to piece the full story together. The person who could explain it best is not here."
"Jeralt?" Dimitri guessed.
"No. He had his own doubts, but never got the chance to confirm them."
"Hold on, what are you talking about? What didn't Jeralt know?"
Byleth sighed, "I know this is confusing. I am trying, believe me."
"I just don't know why all of this is necessary. I know you – I've been your student and your friend, and many other things. I've been fighting alongside you for a long time. Hell, I've been in your – "
'bed' he thought while his stomach turned. Dimitri changed his dialogue sequence, "There is absolutely nothing holding you back from revealing your name, is there?"
Byleth, growing tired from neglecting his own health, struggled to find a way to explain it. Dimitri knew about 'Byleth' – or rather, the falsified version. His name was not so easy to give because of it. He fumbled around trying to preface this information; despite wanting to tell Dimitri everything, Jeralt managed to impede any progress with 25 years' worth of bullshit.
His father meant well, but damn was he ever paranoid.
"A mountain of lies," Byleth answered several moments later.
"What?"
"That's what stands in my way . . . If I told you my name, it would only confuse you. If I told you the reason why it was such a secret in the first place, we'd be here all night. And I am passed tired."
"What would be confusing about a name?"
Byleth rubbed his eyes – where to begin?
"That," Byleth compared what Dimitri knew to what the truth was. On paper, Byleth was dead. In actuality –
" – is unfortunately a very difficult thing to explain."
Dimitri sighed, getting nowhere. Then again, what right did he have to hassle the professor over this?
"I guess it's okay, for tonight," Dimitri knew the professor needed to sleep soon, "It is funny to me that Gilbert and Seteth have both looked into this. I'm sure others have as well. And only Seteth seems to have benefited any knowledge."
"That would be because he found my father's journal. Well, there's a thought. All you could ever want to know about my life is in that orange diary."
"I'd honestly rather hear it from you," Dimitri insisted, though knowing he could find the answers really caught his interest. He knew exactly where that diary was, too.
"I'd still probably end up having to explain it to you anyway," He yawned.
"I promise not to sneak into your room and find the journal. Tonight only. If I still can't wrangle it from you tomorrow, I make no guarantees."
The professor chuckled, "You're free to it. I have no objections."
"I'm probably not going to sleep knowing that it exists . . ." Dimitri confessed, "Can I ask you something?"
"Have you ever needed permission?"
". . . Right . . . What would you do if someone you liked well enough to marry also had no idea what your name is, or anything concrete about your past? What would you do then?"
"Where did 'marrying' someone come from?" Byleth sincerely looked stunned.
"Well, I mean, typically someone like that would have to know all of these things about you. How long would you keep that information withheld?"
"I am not intentionally withholding it – I mean, not anymore. It just hadn't been on my mind."
"Wait a moment. You simultaneously didn't know why he kept these details a secret, but also were privy to this plan?"
"When we first arrived here, my father made it perfectly clear that he did not trust the church. I trusted his judgement at the time and followed his instructions to not give my name."
"What was his issue with the church? Also, I am not part of the church, so I don't know why you kept it from me."
"If it makes you feel any better, I accidently almost told you a few times. And, while you were a student here, you technically fell into the 'part of the church' category."
"I'm just going to agree to disagree and move on. Why did Jeralt distrust the church? And did you feel similarly?"
"Yes . . . and yes. Araleth's death was the turning point for him, I believe – and I always felt Rhea wanted to keep me on a short leash. To be honest, I learned later that Jeralt intended for us to leave the monastery for good."
"So, what, one day you were planning on leaving us all, without explanation?" Dimitri's voice raised.
"At the time and if the opportunity presented itself, yes. I would not exist on paper and we would leave Fódlan."
"You would be untraceable," Dimitri's face elongated with surprise, then transitioned back into frustration, "Why would you even accept a teaching position if you knew you might abandon us?"
"You're assuming I was given a choice."
Dimitri was not listening anymore, "I knew it . . . Those first few months, you didn't even care to hide your disdain for being here. Well, I guess I now know the truth of it. So, you went missing for five years. Did you take your chance then, when we needed you the most?"
"That is not what happened," Byleth remained calm and firm.
"How can I possibly believe that? The people I loved left me behind in this hellhole of a world. They did so beyond their choice. And you. You would leave on your own volition. How can I trust anything you tell me?" There was a lot of pain in Dimitri's voice; and unfortunately, Byleth sensed him slipping into that inner darkness.
"I never followed through on that plan. I am here now because I want to be here," Byleth's head pounded. He did not want to argue.
"How long do we have you for this time?"
"I am not going anywhere."
"How do I know that?" His voice mangled with terror and fury.
"Please trust me. I intend to see this through."
"You and I – we," Dimitri paused, "we slept together. It's been a while, so I'm sure you'd forgotten all about that. You said you had interest in coming home with me. Was this plan still in the works then? How long have you been lying to me?"
"I remember that night, Dimitri. I remember that promise. I never lied to you."
"I don't even know what to think," Dimitri's forehead wrinkled and he had a pained look, "I need some air," Dimitri stood up and went for the main doors.
"Dimitri, wait," Byleth reached for him. Dimitri yanked his arm away.
"Alone! I just – I just want to be alone for a while."
Dimitri stormed swiftly away and escaped the cathedral through the main doors, leaving them wide open to blow more unwanted wind in.
Byleth instantly wanted to chase after him, but vertigo took him by surprise. The world spun wildly around him, "Ugh. Why now?"
Byleth took a few steps before he lost footing and impaled his injured side into the corner of the pew. He gasped as the pain electrified his body. He fell to a knee and held the wound; the stone floors freezing him more.
The world did not stay in consistent rotation. Byleth found it hard to lift himself. His body grew heavy, but his head floated, or that's how it felt. The rows of benches multiplied and swayed, weaving in and out of focus.
He climbed on the pews, pulling himself up and pushing himself forward. He did not gain much ground before faltering again, this time away from the sharp wood. He collapsed onto the floor, landing on his left side. He used his arm to protect his head from damage.
The frigid ground pierced his skin even through the clothes. His vision clouded. His drained body laxed, unable to move anymore. He would fall unconscious, and someone would discover him. Or, maybe a short rest would revitalize him.
His breathing slowed. He could not keep his eyes open any longer. A five-minute nap was all he needed, he convinced himself, surrendering to darkness . . .
Author Note : normally I don't like the 'if it can be resolved by calmly discussing it, it's not really a plot', but it's kind of Dimitri's broken character right now to assume the worst of everyone and fear betrayal. I thought it would be more absurd and against his character to listen to Byleth with an emotional sting like that.
Also, in my Part 1 story, I intend to have the first romantic encounters in month 12, during the Heron Ball. Dimitri's birthday is a few days after the Goddess Tower scene, which I felt wonderful placement.
I wanted to clarify since month 12 is a long ways away from where I'm at currently, unless I make it it's own separate entity. Which I may.