Eventually, they managed to have breakfast without any other incident. Dimitri sat across from her looking more decent, wearing Holst's clothes which were almost a perfect fit for him. Almost, because the upper garments definitely were a snug fit; the trousers too, actually, it's just that compared to Holst, Dimitri was blessed with a few more centimeters in height so the fabric ended awkwardly a portion above his ankles. For her sanity ( and Dimitri's well-being of course ), it definitely was better than nothing while his own clothes were in need of washing. Hilda herself was more presentable, as she finally had the time to wash her face with cold water ( yep, she definitely wasn't dreaming ) and fix the tangled mess that had been her hair.

They ate in silence. She wanted to think it was a comfortable sort of silence since. . . well, with all the things they spoke about, both of them needed time to think things through. She snuck some glances on him from time-to-time and it seemed like he was engrossed with whatever was on his mind.

Now that she thought about it, it's the first time in a while since she'd eaten breakfast with anybody. She didn't mind that she usually only had the calming presence of the chirping birds outside to keep her company in the morning. . .

Hmm, for a minute there she sounded a lot like Marianne.

Eh, going back, she was not much of a morning person in the first place anyway, so there was no real issue. It would usually take a while for her to jumpstart to her usual chatty self so it was the perfect setup. Lunch and dinner were a different thing because she usually ate out in restaurants and had the company of others, regulars and staff alike.

It dawned on her that starting that day, things were gonna change for her. No more careless walking out from the bathroom butt naked if she ran out of soap, for one. Or anything that would cause unnecessary embarrassment for both of them. Perhaps she better be careful not to do anything inappropriate in front of a royal like Dimitri too, but then again, with everything he had been through and with how he basically offered to serve her for his life, she didn't really think he'd be one to complain.

If anything the new arrangements would have mild inconveniences for her, which she supposed shouldn't be that bad. Perhaps, having a housemate was kind of like her days in Garreg Mach again. She actually wanted to think it was way better since there was no Seteth around to nag at her.

Her gaze wandered to Dimitri's plate, which she realized was almost empty compared to hers. Thinking about it, it was likely his first decent meal since he escaped.

"How long must it have been?" she muttered, speaking her thoughts out loud. It was too late for her to realize that she did because Dimitri completely stopped eating and had all his attention on her.

"Pardon?"

Her ears grew warm in embarrassment. No use in backtracking. She was curious, anyway.

"How long has it been since the day you left Fhirdiad?"

He seemed to ponder on it for a bit before his gaze fell. "I'm afraid I can't provide you a concrete answer. I likewise don't have any knowledge of how long I was out since the war ended, or perhaps I didn't really care, that time. I only recall trying to evade Kingdom armies from finding me day and night in Faerghus, until I was able to cross the borders going to the territories of the Leicester Alliance. . . I say, perhaps it's been more than a month."

She nodded, his words sinking in.

"I see."

Without thinking twice, she took her used cutlery in one hand while the other pushed her plate of food towards him. He looked at her questioningly.

"Well, this is for you—"

He pushed the plate back.

"I can't accept."

She pushed it back.

"Oh shush! You need it more than I do. Besides, I'm feeling kind of full already." It was partly a lie; she barely had any spoonfuls but she lost her appetite thinking of the things he had been through.

The plate no longer really moved, because they were both pushing it towards each other.

"Dimitri~" She used her sickeningly sweet voice. There was no way she was letting him win. She heard him sigh.

"Hilda." There was a certain dismissing tone telling her that her methods weren't going to work. It reminded her of a commanding officer. . . Or maybe an immovable rock too.

The poor plate was starting to shake with their little push o' war.

He was just as stubborn as she was.

She thought of a different approach.

"Oh come on. I'm gonna need you to have some energy, y'know?" She nudged her head towards the back door. "We got some work to do later."

She knew she hit him right where she wanted to, because finally, Dimitri allowed the plate to be pushed on his side of the table without any resistance. Success.

She rose from her seat, making her way to the sink to wash her cutlery. She looked at him again with the corners of her eyes, silently rejoicing about how he was eating the portions from her plate.

Except she also noticed something else that turned her happiness into something akin to horror.

"Your face—!"

She marched towards his side, looking closely at the obvious bruise on his cheek. It was hidden in the shadows since they started eating, but now that the sun rays were peeking from the windows, she could very well see it. Thinking about it, she noticed that dark spot when they were outside, but she mistook it for dirt—what, he hasn't had a bath in ages!

"It's fine," he assured her, "I deserved it."

She followed his gaze . . . which landed on the wooden ladle with a missing head. Her cheeks had likely turned red. Whoops.

"That was quite a hit," he said, and then the oddest thing happened: Dimitri chuckled, a rich sound bellowing from his core. It caught her off-guard initially, but she found herself laughing along.

"Well, you really should've seen that coming, barging in uninvited. Next time, I'd appreciate if you just knocked!"

Perhaps they were off to a good start.

. . . Or perhaps she had been too optimistic. The next few days were decent, for lack of a better word.

After fixing the furniture that needed to be fixed, all of Hilda's daily activities commenced like usual—she made her accessories, she bought things in the market, she drew illustrations, she wrote letters. It was just like any other day, except there was Dimitri living in her house.

She actually wasn't sure what she was expecting, living under the same roof as him. He wasn't acting like a bother, only really speaking when spoken to. He wasn't overly nosy like she thought he'd be and would only really intervene if he must. He wasn't even making her do any other work. Dimitri, pretty much, was acting like a perfect good boy.

She didn't know what to make of that.

Now, on paper, his disposition wasn't supposed to be a bad thing, especially for someone like Hilda who abhorred any unnecessary effort to be exerted. In fact, it should have been perfect, and yet that very thought had been sitting on her mind even as she slept, making it difficult for her to fall into slumber.

Looking back at the previous days, she didn't even feel the 'mild inconveniences' that she was expecting to happen. Because all her days pretty much were the same—the difference was just Dimitri on her side, literally. Like a convenient, super accessory that she could just summon so he'd materialize himself and do all the heavy work for her, like carrying her food supplies, transferring her firewood, reaching for stuff in her high cupboard and the like.

She realized she was bothered about it.

Because Dimitri wasn't an accessory. He was a person. And the past few days, she realized she didn't feel like she was staying with a person. . . That laugh that he did on the first day was apparently a rare occurrence too. On most days, he felt . . . empty, just as he described himself.

How then would she be able to fill that void?

Talking, she knew. Communication was the key.

But how should she even start?

Perhaps, her frustrations also rooted from the fact that despite 'talking' being part of her skill set, she had been finding herself speechless in his presence. It was usually Hilda's role to fill in voids of silences, yet for the first time in a while, she was at a loss. Had living alone affected that ability of hers? Or was there just something about Dimitri's situation that was making her hesitant?

Their first day had been different, she realized, since there were immediate things to talk about, like the door he broke hard and the cheek that she smacked hard. Those weren't exactly topics that required extended exchanges in dialogue, because by the end of the day the door was fixed and his cheek was healing. She wouldn't really want to resort to breaking stuff again just so they had something to talk about.

She ended up falling asleep with a troubled mind.

The next morning, she decided she needed to do something about it.

They stood in the kitchen in silence, chopping vegetables beside each other.

Something she just realized was despite living with each other, they were barely acquaintances. Sure, she knew he was King of Faerghus, and sure, he must've known she was a noble from House Goneril—because how else could he have singled out their territory and located her if he hadn't—and that was basically it. It frustrated her that despite knowing really next to nothing about her, he pretty much offered his life in her service like food on a platter.

It pissed her off.

In her annoyance she chopped the vegetable—the innocent carrot—with greater force. The action seemed to startle Dimitri, who she knew had turned to her and looked wide-eyed. His mouth opened seemingly to say something, yet nothing came out. If she had been bothered by his reaction, she didn't show because she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts.

These Kingdom knights and their blind chivalry! What if she was a bad person and took advantage of his kindness?! Not to say she was a perfect person of course, but it made her recall her conclusion of never bending the knee for him and it made her feel . . . y'know, bad. It effectively alleviated her anger, though it was immediately replaced with guilt.

Talking, she reminded herself. She needed to start talking.

But how? She was back to square one. Some things in common they had was (1) they were both enrolled in the Officers' Academy and (2) they killed in the war. The latter, she doubted he wanted to talk about it ( and neither would she anyway ), so it left her with choice number 1.

But where should she even start? Her school life had always been Golden Deer-centric, so she wasn't sure what events he would've enjoyed as part of the Blue Lions. She wasn't even certain if she should even talk about school because school meant Edelgard and it seemed to be a sensitive topic for him to talk about. . . Definitely not a good starting topic.

Argh! This was getting so frustrating!

She chopped the last piece with much force that it must've produced a dent on her chopping board.

"Hilda. . ?"

"Dimitri," she started. He did not respond, waiting patiently for her to talk. She noticed he was warily watching the knife in her hand. She immediately put it down after connecting how ominous she must've looked.

She sighed. There was no use in overthinking. Perhaps she just needed to be direct-to-the-point.

"I want to get to know you more, so whatever's on your mind, don't hesitate to speak out, okay?"

Based from his surprised look, it wasn't what he seemed to be expecting to hear.

"I can only talk so much sometimes," she added, "So help me out, please?"

He nodded slowly. "Okay."

There was another round of silence before he spoke again.

"I can't really taste food well," he admitted, "I can follow a recipe, but I'm rather hesitant to do it by myself if I know others will taste it. It's the reason why I prefer just helping out in cooking."

Her eyebrows rose. One thing she noticed was that among the household chores they did, he was obviously reluctant in cooking. She initially dismissed that it was likely just his preference for heavy physical labor, but with his revelation, she supposed it did make sense.

Hilda found herself smiling.

This . . . was much better.

"Then, it's best to leave the bulk of cooking to me. Ugh, that would be such a pain, though. . ." When she realized that he took her dramatics seriously, judging with how crestfallen he was at himself, she immediately retracted. "I was joking, Dimitri! See, I don't really feel troubled at all!"

She made a mental note that cooking is part of the mild inconveniences she had to do. But it shouldn't really be an inconvenience since she'd been doing it since she was there. Another mental note was not to tease him too much next time.

On the brighter side, she was delighted . . . because slowly, she began to see more color in his eyes.

The following days had been better than decent. Above average, maybe? She mostly initiated conversations, but she could see Dimitri was trying.

"Why do you live alone?" he asked her one day.

She didn't immediately respond, thinking about what he meant with the question. Was he simply curious at her choice of solidarity, or was he indirectly asking why she didn't have "anyone" in particular with her? After all, she was at the age where most women got married and settled with someone, or at the very least were in a relationship or engaged.

"I mean, I saw the estate of Goneril with my own eyes. Surely it should be large enough for both you and Duke Goneril, your brother—" His eyes trailed off, widening, realizing he might have overstepped his bounds. "Of course, if the reasons are too personal, I will not force you to tell me."

Hilda quickly caught on with his assumptions and clarified.

"Oh no, my brother didn't kick me out or anything. He and I are pretty close, actually. This is my personal choice."

"I see."

"Besides, politics has never really been for me, anyway. Being there meant I have to act all prim and proper for any visitors. I mean sure, I love dressing up and all for the occasion, but all the talks about negotiations and stuff? Not really my thing. "

Dimitri seemed to be genuinely interested in hearing her out.

"Well, what is your 'thing," if there is any?"

Again it took her awhile before responding, if only due to hearing Dimitri echo her street words. Dimitri on the other hand mistook her silence for discomfort.

"Again, if I am overstepping, please don't be pressured to speak—"

"I want to build my own school," she blurted out. Her own response should've surprised her, because it took her three letters sent by Marianne to reveal her biggest dream to her friend. "I don't know, maybe the professor inspired me. If a mercenary like Byleth could teach skills for war, it's possible for someone like me to teach about something I think I'm good at, right?"

Dimitri had an idea about her passion for accessory-making, so she knew he knew what she was talking about. He made a sound of affirmation.

"That is a nice dream. . . So how is your path in attaining it?"

She laughed sheepishly. "Well, there's no path, really. Because I haven't done anything about it."

"Why is that?" he asked, seemingly disappointed.

"The problem is me." She shrugged. "I guess that's also the reason why I wanted to live alone. If there are people who do things to my bidding like when I'm at home, I wouldn't get motivated at all because I'd let others do it for me. If I'm by myself, I guess I could be far more productive, because, well, I'm pretty much forced to. And it's also a whole lot different to be free."

She was expecting him to nod and clarify further, but to her surprise, he stood up.

"Then is my presence serving as a hindrance to your productivity?" he questioned, face determined to leave should she order it. She quickly stood and shook her head, pulling him down to sit again.

"No, no! That's why I told you I don't need you as a servant. If anything I really appreciate your presence."

She realized she was still holding his hands. She awkwardly let go, sensing how strangely intimate it must've been, the warmth lingering in her palms.

"I mean, the downside of living alone is that I have all the time to myself, that sometimes I forget what it means to be productive too. You being here . . . reminds me not to go lazing about too much."

"Well, then it's a great honor to be a reminder for you to be productive."

She would've laughed, but resisted since she knew he was being completely serious. It reminded her that she probably needed to teach him not to be too serious and to relax once in a while too.

It was after a month that Hilda decided that it was time to give him a little field trip.

Of course, she was aware of the risks of such a decision—after all, Dimitri was a "missing" person, a missing "big" person to be specific, literally and figuratively.

By that she meant he was a missing king of a known land who also had such a commanding presence, height and all. And while it's probably still a secret that the king had actually gone missing, it didn't rule out the possibility of Rodrigue's men looking for him. And while her end goal was to actually have him back in his home land, she preferred that he did so willingly, not by force. And for him to go home willingly, she needed to bring back some humanity in him. And to bring back some humanity in him, she needed to let him relax. And to have him relax, she needed to let him experience things he loved. And based on the information that she managed to fish from him the past few days, one of those things happened to be horseback riding.

Therefore, a field trip. He had been inside her cabin for days anyway and she felt some sunlight would be good for him.

Going back to the risks, of course she had plans for such contingencies. That was the purpose of the cloaks, for both him and her, because her luscious pink locks were unfortunately attention-seeking and she'd rather not have her identity exposed too; surely Holst would worry if gossips of his sister riding a horse with a mysterious man started spreading. Of course, it would be better if they could avoid people altogether, so she needed to consider the perfect place too. . .

Then she remembered that there was a bigger factor she needed to consider: Dimitri himself. Or rather, his willingness to go on a field trip.

Because with how self-deprecating he was, she knew he would be against going out if he found out that she was doing it for him.

Hilda knew just the solution. She learned a thing or two about scheming from staying close to Claude, after all.

She just needed to make it seem like the field trip was for her, and that she required his help. After some internal deliberation, she decided on her plan: they would go Fódlan's Throat to gather flowers for her creations. It was like hitting two birds with one stone.

Then it brought her to the next problem. The horse.

She only had one horse. Okay, sure, maybe they could go ride her horse together . . . it would make her "asking for help" more convincing if he witnessed her mediocre riding skills. But it wasn't even her main concern: her horse was being cared for by her neighbors, who owned a stable. Which meant going to said neighbor. Which meant directly confronting the questions that surely her neighbors had.

There was no helping it, she supposed. She knew she couldn't hide her secret forever. Especially for a secret as big as Dimitri. Literally. Why did he have to be so big?

"Lady Hilda! It's nice to see you," the elderly woman greeted. She returned the greeting to the old couple with the same warmth. They briefly exchange pleasantries until they reached the topic she was anticipating them to ask her about.

"We don't want to be nosy, but we can't help but notice that you haven't been alone in your little home lately," the elderly man said, "Has the general finally convinced you to have a bodyguard?"

She was about to agree that "yes, that was exactly the case, so may I please get my horse?" but then she remembered how the couple kept close tabs with her brother. That sort of information was something she knew they'd casually tell Holst and she could just imagine her brother suddenly barging in one day and ask about this "bodyguard" that he didn't even know of.

No, no. That would be a total disaster.

She had to consider a different option.

She twirled her hair around her finger, feigning embarrassment.

"Well, not exactly a bodyguard . . . since, um, we do loads of other things together," she ended with a suggestive tone.

"Oh?" The elderly woman's eyes lit up. "Oh!"

Hilda hid a mischievous smile. Just where she wanted to lead them.

The elderly man laughed, catching on. "Ah, youth!"

"And I'd appreciate if you'd keep it a secret between us. Don't worry, I plan to tell Holst eventually, but you know how overprotective he can be." She grabbed the woman's hand and squeezed it gently. "Can I keep your word on it? Please oh please~"

"Of course, of course! Our lips are sealed!"

Perfect.

Technically, it wouldn't classify as lying because she didn't even outrightly say what sort of relationship she and Dimitri had; it was all just assumptions made by a kind elderly couple. No biggie.

Eventually, she managed to take her horse. As she approached her cabin, she witnessed the curious glances Dimitri was giving her.

"You and your neighbors seem close."

She laughed, agreeing. But not as close as I implied the two of us to be, she thought.

When Hilda absolutely thought she had everything under control, she soon found herself swallowing her own words. Funny, because she should've seen it coming, with all her talk about 'closeness,' yet it was among the things which was pulling herself apart at that very moment. Perhaps her scheming skills needed some work, because she too overlooked her discomfort at the very thing they were about to do.

Truthfully, she wasn't fond of riding horses—wyverns and pegasus much more because she didn't like heights—but it was one of the accessible forms of transportation in that era so that was unavoidable, especially during wartime. Hilda wasn't a stranger to doing things she didn't like, so it was something she tolerated because her life depended on it.

She was tolerating it, all right, but she was far from comfortable, and it was something Dimitri likely noticed because of how stiff she was.

"Are you okay?" she heard him say behind her, "I know you told me that you needed help, but I never realized that . . ."

"—it was this bad?" she completed for him. It made sense for her, of course, since the professor never really focused on that skill when they were at the academy. That wasn't her fault! "Well, I, I just don't understand why it's so jittery! I feel like I'm gonna fall off any second."

Dimitri nonchalantly placed his hand over hers, taking control of the reins. Just like that, their ride went in a steadier pace. "Well, horses are sensitive creatures. They feel your tension, that's why it's likely feeling that way too."

She stared at the hands holding hers, and the arms around her. It was somehow . . . comforting, being in his presence. She somehow felt secure.

"That makes sense. It's likely nervous too because admittedly, it's been a long time since I've ridden it." The reason Holst left her a horse was so she could visit the palace any time; that hadn't happened yet because she was too lazy to. "I always preferred swinging my axe while running on foot, anyway."

The comfort was eventually replaced with an odd sensation that she refused to acknowledge, which grew more as she became conscious of his breathing behind her, his nice smell—which was super weird, because technically they used the same soap, so why did she find it oddly satisfying? In no time, she became aware of his overall presence surrounding her, which was oh so close. . . She tried to ignore them all, though, instead focusing on looking ahead and giving him instructions. It was somehow effective, and it was a good thing Dimitri kept talking about the art of caring for horses.

They reached their destination soon enough, an area at Fódlan's Throat where beautiful flowers bloomed. Hilda wasted no time in jumping off her horse, scurrying to a nearby bed of flowers. She was about to instruct him to pick flowers with her when she saw him looking at the horizons in awe, seemingly lost in thought. She decided to leave him be for the time being.

They eventually left the area, and managed to make it back to the cabin without any issues. They rested and ate dinner. In the process, Hilda took note of his happier disposition, so she felt happier too. Their little field trip was a success, even if perhaps her ego had been the price to pay. Though she figured it shouldn't have bothered her, anyway, since she should be used to it for all the favors done for her in her life.

She carried the box containing all the flowers they collected and walked to her room. She was ready to tell him 'good night' and completely retire to her quarters to do her own thing when she had an idea. She invited Dimitri to come in with her.

When he hesitated, telling her how improper that would be, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, come on, Dimitri. We're a grown man and woman. We aren't in school anymore."

Realizing what that insinuated, she blushed.

"Anyway, that's not even what I meant anyway! I'm going to teach you something. My tools are in my room so it's easier to do it here."

He finally relented, entering her room.

"This isn't even your first time here, right?" she pointed out, "That night you attacked me, you carried me all the way here when I fell asleep, right?"

"Well, I couldn't just leave you on the cold floor. . ."

She nodded, chuckling. "I knew it. You forgot to cover me with a blanket though, so I was cold either way."

Realizing his mistake, she knew he'd say sorry but she stopped him before he could.

"No need to apologize. I mean, if you kept me warm, I wouldn't have discovered you immediately and you would've been cold outside, right?"

He seemed to want to say something, but she began to guide him to her work desk, where she pulled another chair for him to sit on.

The next few moments involved her demonstrating simple bead work, along with preserving beautiful petals inside small bottles using resin. Dimitri was surprisingly an eager student, watching her intently, though the enthusiasm seemed to die down when he was doing the process himself.

Understandable, since he already broke three small bottles with his hands.

"Let's try again," she remarked, handing him another bottle. He shook his head.

"I, I think we should stop for tonight."

"Oh, don't worry about that." She shoved the bottle in his hand. "I got lots of spares so just keep on trying."

"O-okay, but one last bottle and no more. . ."

He scanned the collection of petals in front of them, choosing the one with a nice shade of royal blue. She initially observed him while she did her own work, quietly stealing glances. Eventually, she no longer heard the sounds of glass breaking and she felt a little bit proud.

"I think you are amazing, Hilda."

It made her stop working. She turned to him, expecting him to look at her, yet he seemed so focused on his work.

"For you to be able to handle such delicate work despite your strength, it's really admirable."

Now, Hilda loved receiving compliments. She wasn't a stranger to receiving them especially from her admirers in Garreg Mach. They made her feel good, but at the same time, she knew they were being said because they wanted her to feel good. Of course there were likely some who were being totally honest about their words, but she thought they were all just the same too. Because the ending was that they liked her.

It's a different story if it's said so casually, as if it was just a simple fact. Compliments like those, with seemingly no ulterior motive . . . hit her critically.

Dimitri's sincerity would probably end her soon.

"Strength?" She decided to focus on that bit for her sanity. "Whatever do you mean? I'm just a delicate flower."

"Oh, I wouldn't call you that."

Hmm, that was a rather cheeky response. She didn't expect that from him. Dimitri seemed to have caught on with his tone, and immediately retracted his statement.

"Well, at least that's what I heard you saying before. . . In Gronder Field."

She gasped. "Hey! I wasn't talking to you back then!"

"Besides, if you are a delicate flower, I do not know what that would make me." He glanced away in embarrassment. She didn't need to clarify; she knew he was pertaining to her little carrying stint in Gronder Field.

"Well, that must've been from the adrenaline." She didn't really think she was strong. . . Though she did have to carry the professor for Claude that one time too. Maybe Claude was just a little weak?

The brittle sound of cracking was heard. She looked to see Dimitri holding the cork bottle cover on one hand and shattered pieces of glass and resin on the other.

"It's fine, Hilda. Don't think you're an incapable teacher because of me, though. I'm merely an incapable student."

"Oh, don't say that. Then it means I'm a hopeless teacher if I can't help an 'incapable' student like you, so you better be trying your hardest!"

Dimitri's brows furrowed. "Why does it seem like the pressure has been focused on me now?"

She stuck out her tongue. "Well you started it!"

"But seriously, if you could teach someone like me, I have no doubt you can for those who would like to pursue something like this for a living." The corners of his lips curved up. "I think . . . you are capable of doing great things."

Her heart fluttered with warmth as she heard it. At the same time, she felt sad, hearing it coming from him. She thought of the people waiting for him, those he could potentially serve with selflessness and kindness he obviously possessed yet he couldn't see.

"I think you do, too," she wanted to blurt out, yet she didn't. . Perhaps, it was too soon to say? She wasn't certain. The night went on, with her wondering about it.