She woke up on her bed with a mild headache. Her blanket was crumpled on her side, so she concluded that the chilly air must've stirred her awake. She groaned, sitting up, and glanced at the window. The skies were dyed dim blue, and the sun did not seem to be peeking from the horizons yet. It was unusual for her to be awake at that time, so by reflex, she let herself fall on her comfy bed, allowing her soft pillows to embrace her pounding head. . .
Until she remembered what had just occurred the night before.
Dimitri.
She frantically got up, scurried back to her kitchen, yet there was no Dimitri in sight. Her whole cabin was also quiet, the sound of her own breathing the only thing that reached her ears.
For a moment, she processed whether or not what had occurred was simply a dream. She had her share of vivid dreams before, dreams so realistic that it would take her a while to process if they actually happened or not. She scanned the surroundings and spotted a broken wooden ladle on the flooring. The empty glass she remembered drinking from was also by the counters.
If it wasn't real, then had she just been sleepwalking hard. . . ?
She unhurriedly explored every room in her house, looking at every corner where he could possibly be staying at, yet not a single soul was seen.
Still, she wasn't convinced it was all a dream . . . But things weren't adding up the same.
Did he perhaps already leave, setting off with his life? The thought honestly left her with feelings of be fair, that's exactly what she wanted him to do, but his departure was so abrupt, like sure, okay , she must've fallen asleep before he had any chance to say goodbye but that didn't mean he should have. She had some questions to ask him herself! Like, how was he even alive?!
Just when she acknowledged how pissed off she was with how things turned out, she remembered the last look that Dimitri had given her, as if he had finally found his answers, his peace. . .
. . . What if she actually had a conversation with a ghost?
Goosebumps erupted all over her skin. Yikes!
She rubbed her arms with her hands and shooed away the scary thoughts. No use in frightening herself.
She opened her closet to grab her robe, intending to go outside. All the thinking was just making her head hurt even more. Perhaps she just needed some fresh air.
The pale dawn skies were a rare sight for her eyes to behold. Ever since she started living alone, she pretty much managed her own time which meant the decision of what to do before sunrise was entirely up to her. Most of the time she basically just slept through it.What, she considered the extra hours as beauty sleep.
The morning breeze was cool that day, sending shivers trickling her body. It should be expected, since it was the last few weeks of the Horsebow Moon. She pulled her robe together and crossed her arms, walking to the side of her cabin, and letting the view of the vast fields calm her.
In no time she found herself mesmerized with the way the grass and the crops danced against the winds, that she couldn't help but let her arms sway along as well, momentarily forgetting the chilly air. She found herself humming the music played in the White Heron Cup, one of her favorite memories in the academy. She had always loved to dance, perhaps one of the things she'd proudly say she could do, so she was pretty much ecstatic when the professor chose her as the representative of Golden Deer.
Attempting to recall the moment of her glory, she shut her eyes. She imagined the vast ceilings of the reception hall of Garreg Mach, the bright lights focused on her as she performed with all her heart. Along with the choreography, the music was something she knew by heart, if only due to her countless times of practice.
She continued humming, swaying and twirling on the open space with no care at all. A passerby would probably think she was crazy if they saw her, especially since she was far from being presentable—her long hair was disheveled, and her sleepwear wasn't actually what any decent person would wear out in the open.
It's not really as if someone would be watching her anyway—well, her kind neighbors maybe but she didn't mind since they're lovely audiences—but at that hour, she doubted anyone was up. The roadside was even empty. She had the world all to herself.
Except she soon realized how wrong she was.
She let out an undignified shriek. On her back porch sat the person who she already concluded to be a ghost haunting her. Dimitri's single eye widened, a dumbfounded look appearing on his face. The reaction somehow sent a weird sense of relief in her, nevermind the rapid pounding of her chest. At least if he was indeed a ghost following her around, she had to deal with someone capable of feeling emotions other than wrath and sadness. She'd probably go crazy otherwise.
"Sheesh!" she remarked, placing a hand on her chest. "You scared me!"
He didn't say anything, instead looking downwards, seemingly ashamed. She only realized he was crouching beside the storage shed for her firewood, prolly the reason why she didn't immediately notice him.
"I've. . . thought about it. What you told me last night."
His voice was gentle, no hints of the scary growls present from their initial encounter. Gradually her shoulders relaxed.
"Thank you," he continued, "I think my path is much clearer now. I will do as you say."
She found the corners of lips rising. She supposed that was the only closure that she needed to hear from him. She waited for him to stand and go about his journey to self-discovery or whatever but he did not move from his spot.
"Um, Dimitri? Why are you still here?"
A puzzled look appeared on his face. "I'm doing what you suggested."
She raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip. She told him to live, right? "How exactly is this . . . 'living?'"
"Being here feels like I'm living with a purpose."
Hilda's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I have decided to stay here," he responded with confidence, as if he thought about it for a long time.
"Stay here to?" she clarified, getting even more bewildered the more she spoke to him.
"To guard you."
"To guard me?"
He nodded. "Yes. I owe you my life."
"Okay, okay, that makes sense I guess, but what makes you say that I need guarding. At all?"
Dimitri pursed his lips together. "The lock on your door. . . was easily broken."
Huh? But her front door was completely fine!
Just before she could clarify further, Dimitri, with a look of shame, gestured to her back door.
Her eyes turned to slits. His head lowered even further.
"I apologize."
Unbelievable. The lock that he broke was some high-quality metal! She sighed heavily.
"You better be."
The next few seconds had been silent, and she grew conscious of the cold winds surrounding them again. Funny how these unforeseen circumstances made her want to be back inside her cabin again.
She approached him, observing his face, obviously looking lost. She glanced at the broken door knob and sighed again. Actually, she was glad to see him there—and not as a ghost especially-but these turn of events. . . It wasn't one she expected. She also recalled that their little night encounter left her with questions that she did not have a chance to ask because, well, it involved attacking, some shouting and crying here and there.
"You know what," she said, breaking the silence, "why don't we talk again? Come on."
He followed her inside without complaint, much to her relief. She led him to her common room and gestured for him to sit while she made tea. He also did so without complaint, patiently waiting until she emerged back from the kitchen.
"Okay, first of all," she began after taking a sip from her cup, "you're alive after all? I mean, sorry to sound so blunt, but all the stories being passed around made it seem like you weren't."
His eyes were set on his cup on his hands, tea still untouched. "I don't know much of the details starting my departure from Garreg Mach on the day that you saved me. By the time I woke up I was already back at Fhirdiad. Of course, still blinded by my rage, I insisted on marching against the empire despite my grave physical condition. Rodrigue was forced to take drastic measures and had a team of medics put me in a deep state of unconsciousness until my body has fully healed. It apparently took a longer time than they anticipated because of the wounds I sustained from the dark magic done by that woman's army. By the time the treatment was successful and I woke up again. . . "
Dimitri's hands trembled, and briefly, she wondered if he'd also end up breaking the precious piece of porcelain.
". . . it was all over. Rodrigue told me the news himself. That Edelgard was defeated, along with those that slithered in the dark. Peace was fully restored. I should have felt happy, and yet all that came over me was emptiness. Rodrigue insisted that I could rule over Fhirdiad again, represent Faerghus and the rest of its nobles, but I can't find myself to."
His voice softened, shame overcoming his features. She quietly listened on.
"One day I just began questioning my existence. Why was I even alive? I felt like I should have just died in Gronder Field, yet I didn't. . . Even the voices I hear didn't have any clarity and just left me more confused. From then on, I felt rage. An emotion I haven't felt the longest time. It pushed me to escape my room, from the palace, for the first time. I knew I couldn't get my answers if I was stuck there doing nothing. That's what brought me here."
He finally took a sip from his cup. If it was too sweet for his tastes, it didn't show on his face.
"So those rumors—those had mainly been my fault. It makes sense that people would assume I was dead because they haven't seen me in a long while. I never made myself appear in public despite Rodrigue's insistence."
"But why not?" she asked. "Surely the people are waiting for their king's return?"
"It's what Rodrigue said too, but I doubt it. I don't think I'll be able to face them again. With all my wrongdoings, I failed them as their leader. I'm not worthy of such title."
She knew that look. It's the look of someone who feared facing disappointments.
Before she could even comment on it, Dimitri had settled his teacup on the table and was kneeling before her, his golden locks concealing his face like a veil as he bowed his head low. Her eyes could only widen enough.
"So please, Hilda, allow me to serve you in ways that I can—"
"D-Dimitri!" Her bewilderment reached its peak that she almost spilled her tea as she stood. "What are you doing—?! Stand up!"
He ignored her request. "I can guard your cabin, chop your firewood, anything; I can't promise that I can do a lot at first but I can learn so—"
"HOLD UP, HOLD UP!"
Her frantic screaming at least managed to make him stop in his ramblings, yet he still hadn't moved. Like a stubborn, enormous rock.
It was all too much for Hilda. With all her emotional fluctuations since she woke up, it was likely her craziest morning since the war. Sure, there had been a time when she told herself that she probably wouldn't bend the knee for either Edelgard or Dimitri because that sort of possibility existed, but never, not even in her wildest imagination have she thought of it the other way around. Well sure, maybe she sometimes did dream of having a handsome manservant who would do to her bidding, but she never imagined it this way—not Dimitri of House Blaiddyd, leader of the Blue Lions, the freakin' King of Faerghus!
"Dimitri! Dimitriii. . ." she pleaded, rubbing the sides of his shoulders in distress. Somehow, it had gotten him to at least finally look at her, but she soon regretted the decision.
Because his eye, that very single blue eye was far too expressive, staring back at her with much pleading. It seemed like she was face-to-face with a sad puppy. Grr, she wished he didn't look at her that way.
Summoning the last of her willpower—no, no, she would not give in—she grabbed his hands and pulled him up to his feet. He pretty much towered over her—her head barely reached his shoulders!—and yet, why did it all seem that all power was within her?
"Dimitri, look," she began carefully, "I mean, I really, reaaally appreciate your offer, but. . ." She squeezed his hands. Man, his hands were big. ". . . this isn't where you belong."
In her relatively brief school life, Hilda had not been a stranger in receiving love confessions, which meant she was also no stranger in rejecting every single one of them. She admitted that on more than one occasion, she made use of someone's attraction to her to get what she wanted. She didn't find fault in it; as long as she pretended not to know of those feelings, she knew she also made those boys feel good because they know they helped her. It was a totally different story, however, if they confess those feelings out in the open. Contrary to what some may believe, she was not fond of giving people false hopes, so when it reached a point when they gather enough courage to admit their feelings, she will flat out say "no." Or some sort of variation. And every time she did that, she admitted having feelings of guilt and pity. Okay maybe that was a bit bad of her to do, but that's just it. She knew they'd eventually move on from her.
Dimitri was an entirely different case. For one he didn't really confess his love for her or anything. . . But he did somehow imply that his life was hers to dictate.
And that was a little bit too much. It's a dangerous offer to give to someone like her.
Which was why she needed to stop it. She needed to break his heart.
Except she found herself having difficulty in doing so.
Especially when he looked as if it's not just his heart that was broken. It's also like she crushed his very soul.
Back track. Back track. Think, Hilda, think!
She squeezed his hands again, but with much pressure. The action effectively widened his exposed eye. At least no more broken puppy dog looks.
"What I meant to say is that Fhirdiad is your home. But it doesn't mean I'm telling you to go back if you're not ready yet."
Her response seemed to bring back some sparkle in his eyes. Good.
"However, I don't really want you to be like a servant to me!" If she wanted a guard dog she could have just asked Holst anyway. "How about this: I'll let you stay here for a while until you get things settled? Sounds good?"
He seemed hesitant to agree. "But wouldn't that make me a burden for you? Now it seems like I owe more to you. . . How could I repay you, then?"
'Repay me when you're king again' would probably be too soon to say.
"Then I'll let you help out when I need it."
Dimitri still looked unconvinced. "But—"
"Okay, that settles it!" she interrupted with a grin, proceeding to push him towards the bathroom, "Since you're gonna stay here, you gotta make sure to observe proper hygiene! I'm sorry to be blunt again but you reek, Dimitri."
"I'm sorry—"
"No worries! Nothing a little soap, shampoo and water can't fix!" She opened the door for him, giving him one last shove. "Okay, now I'm gonna leave you to your devices—"
Dimitri stopped the door with his hand just before she could close it. The door creaked weirdly.
"Wait."
"Yes?" She gave him a smile that barely reached her eyes. Oh please oh please oh please no longer argue. . .
"T—thank you. . ."
"Don't mention it."
She tried to close the door one more time yet he stopped it again. She was beginning to worry about the weird creaking sound the door was making.
"Let me also take this opportunity to apologize for my actions last night. I had been aggressive and simply assumed things, thinking you kept me alive for selfish reasons."
His response caught her off-guard.
"I had assumed that I was kept alive only so that I could be used in the war, yet it obviously was not the case. . . You risked your life for me and I mistook your good intentions to something ill." He bowed like a chivalrous knight. "That is all. Now if you'll excuse me, I shall do something about this offending odor."
The door closed finally.
Hilda bit her lip, eyes going downcast. What reasons classified as selfish. . ?
She chose not to ponder on it for long, opting to make breakfast to preoccupy herself from thinking about the hasty decisions that she made.
Except minutes later, she discovered she couldn't really avoid it.
She almost dropped her plates when Dimitri emerged from the bathroom with a bare torso, clad only with a pink bath towel that looked too short for him.
Before he could even say anything, she apologized, ignoring the heat rising to her cheeks as she scampered back to her room to look for spare clothes that her brother must've left on one of his visits before.
Dimitri was a dangerous person, she concluded. For entirely different reasons other than his ferocious reputation in the battlefield. Nor his apparent penchant for breaking her furniture.
For such a crazy morning, she could only wish she wouldn't regret her decision.