Ever since Dimitri had risen up from his deep slumber in Fhirdiad, he never really felt like he had truly woken up. Every movement seemed like he was simply drifting, and had it not been for his emotions that would sprout in different situations, he did not think he'd reach anywhere.
That changed when Hilda entered the picture, because for the first time in what he felt the longest time, his life had some clarity. For the first time he felt like having a purpose, looking forward to every morning, if only to do the minuscule things that she had given him the pleasure to do for her. Her presence had been like a ray of sunshine that struck him in a long dark winter night.
But the light could only do so much, especially when the thing it's trying to thaw was a monster with impregnable walls. A monster that very well knew that he could crumble those walls, yet refused to. A monster like himself did not deserve to indulge in such warmth, and a monster like himself knew he could not keep on relying on her forever.
He remembered the horizons, the vast skies and fields when they visited Fodlan's Throat. How the imagery calmed his being. How the winds did not feel suffocating at all. It stirred something inside him, an emotion he couldn't name, or perhaps he had long forgotten. Then again he had not felt many emotions in the longest time . . .
Rage. Rage was the most familiar one. It was what drove him to travel to different lands, borders through borders. Fueled him to seek answers for his existence.
Oftentimes, he cursed at his own bloodlust, his mad quest for revenge that made him do questionable crimes. It's what had turned him into a monster.
But had it not been for that, he didn't think he'd have been driven to escape from prison after being framed for the death of his own uncle. He didn't think he would've been able to push himself forward after Dedue sacrificed himself just so he could escape from his execution. He didn't think he'd have the capability to fend off hordes of bandits and thieves charging at him all by himself. In a way, his mad drive had saved his own life on different occasions.
That monster—it was already part of who he was, no matter what he did.
And it was for that very reason that he wanted to die if he could.
And yet there he was, living, breathing, despite the numbness that he felt all over him.
`Live, Dimitri, live.'
When Hilda said those words, his anger was replaced with uncertainty. Did he even deserve that, after all he had done? How would a monster like him be able to live with peace? Live in the way he wanted when whispers of the dead buzzed endlessly through his ears, reminding him that he could never really escape from that despair?
But he still tried. He was trying, really, if only just to honor Hilda's request of him, as somebody who he owed his life to. Perhaps, he had been making progress, because on some occasions he could feel his senses returning, each time Hilda tried reaching out to him. The feeling was fleeting however, since the second he was alone, he would drown in his own thoughts, the familiar numbness enveloping him, just like at that very moment.
Living . . . Does a monster like him even have a place for an era of peace?
"Perhaps, the war has turned all of us involved into monsters in some ways."
Hilda's response surprised him. It happened one night when neither of them could not fall asleep, or. . . Hilda, at least. Dimitri hadn't been able to experience deep sleep for the longest time. He stirred awake at the slightest sound, and despite the numbers of layers on his body, the feeling of the cold air seeped against his fabrics, preventing him from returning to slumber easily. Months of being on the run, for both his survival and freedom, likely contributed to that.
He listened as she confided her deepest thoughts, narrating how she had slaughtered anyone in the way of their goal, swinging her axe and cutting limbs, and how she even had the audacity to chant her own name after the deed was done as if it were a game. She admitted she wasn't even certain why she did; perhaps it had been her twisted way of coping with the mess that they didn't even want in the first place.
"I don't know," her voice cracked, and he knew she was trying to contain her tears. "Is that wrong, when I just wanted to live? If I didn't swing my weapon, wasn't I the one who'd meet my end? Because those soldiers, they had merely been following orders. But we were too, weren't we? If we hadn't fought back, would we have been able to achieve the peace that we have right now?"
Perhaps he understood in some way. Their goals differed however. He had been fighting to avenge the dead, those who were helpless and no longer able to strike back at the injustices they endured. . .
. . . Except he himself wasn't even able to do anything about it. In the end, it's the Alliance who did the job for him. While they had been fighting for the future, he had been fighting for the past. What purpose did avenging the dead serve, then? Had he been really short-sighted?
Hilda kept on talking, even as tears were streaming down her face. Dimitri's hand twitched, yet it didn't move any further, making him resent himself more. Clouds had gathered in his ray of light, and yet he couldn't do anything to push them away. He was never really good at offering comfort, nor he felt he deserved to provide comfort. It shouldn't at all come from someone like him. . .
"Perhaps we're just unlucky, y'know? Being born and growing up to be the generation's soldiers to fight the war."
He pondered on her words. It simply meant this was their fate, wasn't it? His downfall had already been stitched by the threads of destiny, for all the errors he made, for failing to fulfill his promises. . .
Dimitri looked at his hands. They may be pale, clean, but every time he stared, he saw flashes of red on them.
"The children born in this era of great change are lucky they never have to experience any of those. And it makes me think that all the fighting, all those efforts, they were worth it, y'know? This war may have turned us into monsters, but at least we avoided that sort of fate to fall upon the future generations."
He figured that made sense. And yet. . .
"What about the dead?"
Her eyes, swollen from crying, was looking at him. "What about them?"
"I can't find myself thinking forward because of them. I'm afraid of forgetting them, all those faces of the people I killed and all the people I failed to save. It doesn't seem right at all for me to turn my back on them. . ."
"But . . .if you keep coming back, then you would never really bring them peace either. Like I told you, we just gotta live. Live in the present. Perhaps you can go pray for them or something for some peace of mind, but really, there's nothing we can do but to go forward."
He looked at his hands. They were trembling.
Was it really right for him to move forward?
The whispers, he began to hear them again.
Until Hilda spoke once more.
"Back then, you asked me why I saved you."
Focus. He focused on her voice.
"Let's say that Claude did command me. What would you have done?"
He soon regretted his decision of listening intently, because the statement struck him with intense grim, slowly engulfing his core.
That time, he had thought of it, of course. Blinded by anger, he had thought of going straight to Almyra to face Claude if his assumptions were correct. Even if it meant marching towards his death.
"Or what if told you. . . that I had lied, back then? That I saved you upon Claude's commands?"
He detested deceitful people.
It couldn't be.
Hilda . . . she could not have, right? With all her kindness, sincerity that she had shown for the past days he had been with her. . .
He looked into her eyes to see it shining not with fear, but with sadness.
"I have always wondered what you would've done to me that time. Would you . . . have killed me, too?"
There was something in the way she looked at him too. . . Something that was hoping he would give her an answer that she was looking for.
He looked at his hands again. It had turned red, not with blood, but with how his fingers dug fiercely in his palms.
"Of course not. Then you would haunt me too, would you not?" He lowered his head, grabbing his hair in frustration. "And what purpose would that serve, killing you? . . . Wouldn't that only bring unnecessary cycles of death and hatred?"
"Then, isn't that similar to the answers you are looking for? Whatever reasons no longer matter, because they had all been in the past. Therefore it is better to look forward to the future. We only live once, after all. Better now wallow in the past."
With her words he felt her hands above his, tenderly, firmly trying to appease his grip on his own hair.
"You know, Dimitri, I daydream a lot. I like to imagine possibilities of having a normal school life, where we had all graduated and are having a reunion, somewhere. I also imagined possibilities of having supernatural powers . . . Something like rewinding time."
The next thing he knew was that she had captured his hands around hers.
"But even with that sort of ability I doubt it would be easy to locate a path where total bloodshed could be prevented at all. . . There's just too much going on. I realized there's really nothing we could do about the tragedies that already happened. Perhaps one thing we can do is to move forward and try our best to prevent them from happening again."
Her hands, they were so small compared to his, yet it held him with gentle firmness. They felt so warm, and he felt like he was willing to let himself melt in them.
Perhaps, between the two of them, he really was the delicate one. . .
"You have a choice on what you want to do," she said, mustering up a smile, "Don't let anyone dictate otherwise."
She then flinched, chuckling sheepishly.
". . . Although, I pretty much dictated that, didn't I? Scratch that statement, I guess! But you get what I mean!"
He recalled the horizons again. Compared to the boundless skies, he felt small. It brought a sense of comfort in him, that he was perhaps capable of doing many things in such a wide world.
And then he saw her smile, encouraging him to recognize that little flicker hidden deep in his heart.
Hope, was that feeling 'hope?'
He nodded. Deep inside him, he realized, deep in his heart, he knew there was a strong desire to live. Live in ways that weren't dictated by anyone.
"Thank you, Hilda. Thank you. . ."
He couldn't muster anything else as he allowed the large burden to be finally lifted off his soul.
The next morning, Hilda woke up a little later than usual. Which was to be expected, since their talk lasted until the earliest hours of the morning.
If staying up that late affected her in any way, it didn't show, because she greeted him with a cheery "good morning."
He allowed himself the luxury of returning the greeting with much more sincerity.
"Good morning," he said with a smile. It strained his muscles to do so, yet he tried.
If Hilda noticed how awkward he must've looked, she didn't point it out; instead, she returned a bigger smile, and gestured for him to help her with breakfast.
He could still hear the voices sometimes, he admitted to her one day, when she told him to tell her if she was being too noisy.
"That's why I really appreciate you speaking with me," he continued, "Hearing your voice relaxes me."
He could've sworn a little color flushed on her cheeks when he said it.
"Oh, I hope you don't regret ever saying that when you realize how much of a chatterbox I really am!"
Honestly, he did not think he would ever get tired of it.
She asked him, if he did not mind, whose voices were speaking to him.
His father. Glenn. Those people he killed. Those people he failed to save.
"Sometimes, I wonder why Dedue had never spoken to me. . . not even once."
"Dedue?" she asked with a hint of surprise.
"Yes, Dedue," he affirmed, his eyes lowering. "I saw the guards coming after him when he allowed me to escape—"
"Dedue," she interrupted, "He fought Edelgard with us. And survived as it ended."
She looked at him solemnly.
"I'm not sure where he is now, though. . ."
Something warm overcame his heart. He was happy? Relieved? Overjoyed? He wasn't certain.
In the past, he may have succumbed to the feeling of helplessness; instead, he allowed a different emotion to come through.
Hope. It was the feeling of hope that shone.
Perhaps, it was enough to know that Dedue survived it. Meaning a possibility that he lived existed, and in that possibility he could clung onto. . . Somehow, he was sure they would meet again one day.
Hilda decided to bring him to Fódlan's Throat again to gather more flowers. Apparently, while less flowers bloomed in the Red Wolf Moon, there were rare ones that sprouted and survived the chillier winds.
He continued to instruct her in riding, even as she complained that she "wasn't cut out for that sort of thing."
"See, you managed to do it," he said once they reached their destination, "To be completely honest, I was waiting if you would hand over the reins to me, but you never did."
"Well, you never really offered." She jumped off the horse first, crossing her arms and facing him as she pouted. "So I made you suffer with me!"
It was truthfully a bumpier ride than usual, unnecessarily so.
He chuckled, causing Hilda to give him a peculiar look.
He coughed, trying to halt his laughter. "Forgive me, it's rather unbecoming of me to tease you like that. The important thing is that we endured it—"
"If it would get you to laugh again like that, then by all means, please be unbecoming with me."
To say he was surprised was an understatement.
"T-that is unthinkable! I could not possibly—"
It was her turn to laugh, like a calm melody that flowed against the wind.
"Dimitri, what did I tell you about being too serious?"
Before he could muster a response, she turned her back on him, her hair tousling in an enthralling way against the different pastel spots on the field.
"I won't always give you a free pass, though. Sometimes is okay. I have an image to uphold; I am just a maiden too, after all!"
She stopped in her tracks, looking back to him and waving her hand for him to come close.
"Come on, we have beautiful flowers to collect!"
He followed, commencing on his quest to find flowers that would match the strong radiance that she exuded.
It was at the first week of the Ethereal Moon when Dimitri witnessed Hilda in such a panicked state.
"What's wrong?" He had seen her anxieties during their horse riding trips, but never had he seen her so visibly tense. She was all over the place that the feelings were spreading onto him too.
"It's him, I swear it's him!"
The vagueness didn't help in quelling the uneasy feeling in his stomach.
"Who?"
"Holst, my brother!"
Dimitri tried peeking through the windows, only managing to catch a glimpse of her neighbors speaking to a man with an unmistakable shade of hair similar to Hilda's before she successfully pulled him away.
"No, no, bad idea! My brother has good eyes. He might see you."
Hilda was in deep thought, nervously fiddling her fingers. He made a proposition.
"While the neighbors are distracting him, should I run away?"
"No, he'd surely see you coming out from the front or back door."
Hilda turned to the windows.
He shook his head vehemently.
"I'm not sure I'd fit. Unless we break them, but I am against unnecessary breaking."
"Yeah, plus it would make too much noise anyway. It would raise more questions."
He was sure they both reached the same conclusion:
They were trapped.
Therefore, they had no other choice but to hide him inside the cabin.
Hilda considered the bathroom, but no, there was only one and it would be too risky if Holst needed to use it.
She dragged him to her room. She also considered her closet, but he was too big to fit in.
Under her bed? No, he wouldn't fit either. . .
He had questioned the goddess many times already, yet it was the first time he asked why she had to bless him with such a build.
Hilda's eyes brightened.
"Oh, I know!"
She pushed him onto her bed, gesturing him to lie down and move further to the edge until his back touched wall. After instructing him to turn around, she pulled her comforters and laid it over his body. He no longer really saw anything but the wall in front of him. He also felt something soft being placed over his entire body. Pillows?
"Okay, I need you to stay there. Don't move unless I tell you the coast is clear."
He made a sound in agreement, just as he heard a knock from the outside. He heard Hilda's footsteps scurrying away, as well as the distinct sound of her slamming shut her bedroom door.
He waited, trying to still his breathing as he heard muffled sounds of two people speaking. He couldn't make out what they were saying. Still, he concentrated, trying not to do any major movements from his spot. What he was doing was like meditation. Except he was lying down sideways, under a heavy blanket, with pillows, with the fragrant scent of flowers . . . It took much of his willpower not to completely fall asleep . . .
Until he heard Hilda's strained voice. "Wait, not in there—"
Then the door—he was certain it was the bedroom door—slammed open. Dimitri tensed.
"Ah I see you redecorated it," the other voice whom he assumed to be Holst said, "Pretty nice, I must say."
"Holst. . ."
"Why are you so tense, anyway? Afraid I'll tell you not to be lazy again? Your room is surprisingly clean, actually."
"You can't just barge into people's rooms." He could imagine her crossing her arms as she said it.
"Hmm? You barge into my room uninvited all the time."
"Well, that's different! I'm a girl, y'know!"
He heard footsteps approaching, but it was far heavier for him to safely assume it belonged to Hilda. He gulped.
Then he felt the mattress bouncing, as if someone jumped on it, along with someone's weight against his back.
"Oh no no no, not my bed. You just walked all the way here from the marketplace, right? Don't wanna have you cover my sheets with your icky sweat! I just changed them!"
Dimitri felt guilty. He was certain he had been sweating with the warmth of several layers over him. He made a mental note to remind her that he would wash her bed sheets and comforters despite the cold weather.
"Fine, fine," came the resigned tone of Holst. He heard the sound of a wooden chair scraping the floor. He must've decided to just stay seated near her desk. "Oh, you still do your accessories, huh? How's your business?"
He heard Hilda sighed heavily. Now he was certain it was her head resting against him.
"It's doing great, thanks for asking. But I told you that in my last letter, haven't I? What's with the surprise visit, anyway?"
"I'm just worried about you. It's been a while since I last saw you. You haven't visited even once."
"Well, now you see I'm completely fine, right? Sorry for worrying you. I'm just busy . . . with some stuff."
"Stuff like . . . your academy?"
"Well no, not that."
"Then what?"
She didn't answer. Holst sighed.
"Hilda, I know I said that our funds can't afford something big as that right now, but it doesn't mean I'm not supportive. I did tell you we'll find ways—"
"It's really fine, brother. I really think I'm not ready yet." Her voice trailed off, "That's just . . . too much work, anyway."
The two of them kept on talking about different matters. Dimitri tried not to listen too much, feeling he was intruding their private conversation. Instead, he closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, trying to sync it with Hilda's to be completely unnoticeable by the other occupant of the room.
The next thing he knew, cool air was trickling his exposed skin. Slowly, he blinked his single eye open, just to realize that the blanket and pillows no longer covered his head.
Oh no. He had fallen asleep.
Slowly, he turned his head, just to see Hilda watching him with a playful smile.
"Rise and shine, Your Highness!"
He immediately sat up, scanning the surroundings.
"Your brother?"
"Oh, he left already. Probably an hour since he did."
So it was likely an hour since he had fallen asleep too. . .
"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked, looking away in embarrassment.
"Well, you were sleeping soundly. I didn't have the heart to wake you up." She let her head fall on the pillow which was back on its original place, so they were lying parallel to each other. "Besides, this is the first time I've seen you sleep! It's such a rare sight. I mean in the morning, by the time I wake up, you're already awake."
He decided to dismiss the issue, knowing he wouldn't really win against her. He turned his gaze to the book on her hands instead, which she noticed.
"Oh, this?" she said, waving it slightly, "Holst gave this to me. Book about the basics on school management and whatnot. Just some technicalities that he thought might help me in reaching my dreams. He's rather insistent."
"Then," he began carefully, "What is really pulling you back from attaining it?"
She continued staring at the ceiling. "I just . . . don't want to dive myself in something I'm not so certain of. For something as big as establishing an academy, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to pull it off and end up disappointing all those who tried to help me."
It made Dimitri think back at his own experiences. He was the type of person who, when something was set on his mind, would try, with every fibre of his being, to attain it.
"Well, you'll never really know unless you try," he responded, "Take it from me, I guess. Even with my biggest failure, here am I, and. . ."
He stopped to think. What was he supposed to say? Even after failing to chase his goals, especially with those goals eventually ending up being fulfilled by someone else, there he was, escaping his own responsibilities in his hometown, hiding away in a different territory and living off from someone's hard work.
"Forget what I said. I'm probably not a very good example, am I?"
She giggled, most likely catching on with his thoughts. "Still, I appreciate your sentiments and intentions."
She turned her body so she was completely facing him.
"But you know, it's not really too late for you, either. After all, you're still alive."
He pondered on her words. It's not too late for him to what? What dreams were really worth chasing after all that had happened?
"Have you thought about them, Dimitri? Do you have any dreams too?"
His first thought was Fhirdiad . . . Faerghus.
But would the people still be able to accept him after he turned his back on them? Or would it perhaps be better to chase after a completely different dream instead?
"Well, you don't really have to answer now. That sort of question requires some thinking, I guess."
"Since I don't have a definite answer now, I am sure of one thing, however." He firmly placed his hand over his chest, right where his heart was. "With my role as your reminder for productivity, I wish to tell you that you definitely have my support in fulfilling your dreams."
She smiled. "That's very sweet of you. Thanks."
She sluggishly rested her hands under her cheek.
"But you know what, thinking about it, for someone with intense determination like you, I guess I could take some pointers. That would help, really. . ."
She then yawned.
"Actually, all those talking and reading made me sleepy. I guess it's a perfect time to nap. . ."
And just like that, she shut her eyes, seemingly not minding how he was right beside her.
"I don't wanna hear any talks about stuff being improper," she dismissed, as if reading his mind, "It's fine. . . You know, I used to nap with Annette too at the academy. . . I certainly miss those days. . . So warm . . . Wish it's like this always. . . Dreaming of dreaming. . ."
Eventually she no longer said anything, and he watched her steady breathing. The bigger, reasonable part in him said that he should leave carefully, and go back to his spot at the common area. The other unreasonable part, however, reminded him that the cabin was cool from the winter winds, and that the bed was so comfy, warm, very much inviting.
He carefully placed the blanket over her shoulders—he would not repeat the same mistake as before, leaving her cold.
He recalled his conversations with her, with how she told him that it's okay to indulge themselves in things they enjoy once in a while.
He then sighed.
Just this once, he thought, as he carefully let his body collapse onto the bed, content in watching her sleeping form until he succumbed to sleep again.
It was weeks after when Dimitri found himself giving in to another of his indulgences.
"You know, that one morning when I saw you dancing. . ."
Hilda looked at him curiously as she continued spooling beads through a string.
"Could you do it again?"
She almost dropped said beads.
"Huh?!"
"Back then, I was not quite myself, but then I remembered that you had won the White Heron Cup and was likely doing a repeat performance. I wish I could've appreciated it more."
She seemed taken aback by his revelation. "W-well, that wasn't meant to be seen by anyone!"
"Well, if it is too much to ask—"
Hilda stood on her feet, placing her unfinished bracelet on the table while grinning.
"Well, fine. As the winner of the White Heron Cup, it would be an absolute pleasure to perform for you!" Her confident stance then turned rather meek as her voice softened. "I'm surprised you remembered that I won, though."
"Of course I remember." He scratched his cheek awkwardly. "I was the representative of Blue Lions, after all."
Hilda's eyes widened as her jaws dropped in disbelief.
"Oh my gosh. You were! I'm sorry, how could I have forgotten about that?!"
"It's fine. Honestly, most of my memories at the academy are a blur, though I do remember particular events like that." It likely became memorable if only due to him being forced to participate because there were no other fitting participants left in his house. He thought it could've been Annette, but Professor Byleth managed to recruit her into their house a week before the event too . . . like his other former classmates. "I do not think my performance was something worth remembering, anyway."
"Well, all the more reason for me to push through with my plan!"
Plan?
"I will perform, in one condition."
Condition?
She held out her hand towards him.
"You have to dance with me!"
He almost choked on his own saliva.
"I-impossible!"
That's what he thought, anyway. . . but he discovered that Hilda was capable of doing the seemingly impossible, since soon enough she managed to drag him off his chair and convince him to dance along with her. It was a strange experience, if he was to describe it, because apart from the only music being Hilda's enthusiastic humming, they also had a glaring height difference which made the dancing even . . . stranger. If it bothered Hilda, it didn't show since she continued dancing anyway. In fact, she didn't seem to mind at all, guiding him with glee so contagious, that he found himself not minding the strangeness in the end.
"It's nice to do this, isn't? Especially since four days ago, it's the anniversary of the White Heron Cup!"
"You still remember the exact date of the White Heron Cup?"
"Of course," she said with a nod, "I don't usually pay attention to the calendar at the academy, but the Ethereal Moon is an exception because I love all the events in the month. Did you also know that five days from now, on the 25th, it's the date of our Grand Ball!"
"Today is the 20th?"
"Mmhm. Why?"
It was . . . his birthday.
"It's nothing."
It really was. His last celebration was probably when he had been in the academy, which seemed very long ago.
Hilda wasn't convinced, however.
"Then if it's nothing, you shouldn't look as bothered as you are right now."
"It is, and I am not bothered. It's just an event that I haven't celebrated in a long while, so you need not trouble yourself—"
Shock crossed her face again, connecting the dots herself.
"It's your birthday," she concluded.
"It is," he admitted, finding no reason to hide it any longer. "However, it is just like any other day, so—"
Hilda dragged him again, this time, back to the table where she had been making accessories. With such impressive speed she completed the bracelet she had been making, adding blue accents before tying it on his wrist.
"Well, it's done in a bit of a rush but eh, I'll make a better one next time." She smiled radiantly. "Happy birthday, Dimitri!"
"Really, Hilda, there is no reason to—"
"Shh, shh. I know what you're going to say! Just because you haven't been receiving for the past years, doesn't mean it has to always be like that! We are going to make things a little bit different from now on. . .
Her smile turned smaller as she finally secured the bracelet.
"That is, if you're okay with that, of course. Your choice."
Making choices . . . Moving forward.
He looked at his hand, turning his wrist to observe the ornament around it. It surprised him that he could finally look at his hands without immediately thinking of the flecks of blood that used to stain them.
He thanked her, agreeing.
The temperature was dropping in the region as days were nearing the end of the Ethereal Moon. One of those chilly mornings, Dimitri found himself staring at the closed door of Hilda's room.
The previous day was a rather busy one, if compared to the usual. She brought him to the marketplace, at an outskirt where various children gathered. Dimitri knew of her storybook collaborations with Seteth, as he had the luxury of witnessing her personally making the illustrations for their books. Seteth usually provided her with a copy of their finished book, which on some occasions she apparently shared with the children at the marketplace. With both of them donning their cloaks, he commented how altruistic she was for doing so, even when she claimed that she simply did it so Seteth would stop bothering her too much. He knew she was being modest when he personally witnessed how sincere her smiles were as she narrated the story with such animated fashion. When they returned to the cabin, the skies were dark already, meaning the atmosphere was colder. Dimitri didn't mind, since winter was harsher in Faerghus. Hilda assured him that she was likewise fine, though he noticed how she shivered visibly despite her layers of clothing.
Hilda retired for the night earlier than usual, which he also understood. The experience must've been tiring, after all.
But it was precisely the reason why he felt worried. If she slept earlier, it meant she was supposed to wake up earlier, correct? Though to be fair, she didn't really have a set time for waking up.
His hand hovered over the door knob, yet it retracted. He remembered her words from before: "Next time, I'd appreciate it if you just knocked!"
So he did. Yet there was no answer.
Perhaps she was still asleep? Her covers were really comfy, after all.
He knocked again. Nothing.
An uncomfortable feeling grew in his gut.
It was really highly unusual for Hilda.
He breathed hard.
"Forgive me for potentially breaking another door," he muttered, as turned the knob with force, expecting it to be locked.
Except it wasn't really locked, so the door opened easily.
He mentally smacked himself on the head before he entered the room.
"Hilda . . ?" he said carefully so as not to abruptly wake her up. Her eyes didn't open, and Dimitri immediately observed whether or not she was still breathing.
Oh thank the goddess she still was. Though it appeared labored. He reached out his hand to touch her forehead to confirm his suspicions. Her skin was scorching against his hand.
"Dimitri. . .?" One of her eyes opened, likely due to his hand which he realized was cold. He quickly pulled away. "What are you doing here. . ?"
She attempted to sit up, but Dimitri gently pushed her down.
"Oh, isn't it time for breakfast. . .?"
"Hilda. You have a fever."
He managed to say it with a straight face, but in truth, he was panicking on the inside.
"It's likely, yes. . ." She laughed, or at least she tried to, because an odd breathy noise came out instead. "Ah, this is the life. . . Now I have an excuse to stay in bed all day long. . ."
If there had been something that alleviated his panic even for a little, it was seeing Hilda managing to retain her perky self despite her condition.
Yet he didn't agree with her carefree disposition.
"Hilda," he said in a firm voice. She laughed again.
"What are you going to do, then? Call my brother?"
"If I need to, yes."
"What? Are you crazy. . ?" she muttered in disbelief, "How exactly do you even plan on doing that? Not like we have magical contraptions that could send messages instantly or something. . . Ah, that would be a lovely invention though. . ."
"I'm going to get a cloth and some warm water," he announced, leaving the room. By the time he came back, Hilda had fallen asleep again.
Dimitri was by no means an expert in medicinal matters, although he was aware of basic remedies for fevers. The problem was that he already rummaged through her cupboard but he couldn't find anything of use. He tried to stir her awake, yet she no longer responded.
In his desperation, he ran outside—never mind that he was barefoot for the cold was nothing compared to the situation—dashing to her neighbors' house and quickly explaining the situation. They heeded his call, carrying their own medicinal kit and wasting no time to hurry back to her cabin.
The elderly woman quickly had things under control, much to his relief.
"It is nice to finally meet the special friend of Lady Hilda," the older man said.
Well, he supposed he was her friend. He wasn't sure what he meant by "special," however.
The man eyed him closely, and he felt a little discomfited.
"Is . . . something the matter?" Dimitri asked.
He simply smiled. "I was just thinking, you look rather familiar. I was originally from the territories of Gideon before I ended up here in Goneril, you see."
"The golden hair, blue eyes . . . I daresay he has a resemblance to the late King of Faerghus, King Lambert, wasn't it?"
He felt his heart sinking by the second.
But, if he needed to expose his identity for Hilda's sake, he was willing to.
Before he managed to speak out however, the older man held him firmly on the shoulder.
"You don't have to say anything, son. We all have our secrets."
"We are just happy there is someone who looks after Lady Hilda. See, the general complains how she can be rather hard-headed sometimes. I understand that she wants to live freely, but it's in situations like this when I want to side with the general."
"I heard she even refused to have a dog."
"Yes, that's right. Said something about them being cute but takes effort to clean up their mess."
Sounds like her, indeed.
Eventually they left, instructing him to call them again should he require help. He gave them a wholehearted "thank you."
When he returned to her room, he found her awake again. He felt relieved.
And then his stomach grumbled, which she of course noticed.
"Sorry, I can't help you today," she said in a voice that lacked her usual teasing tone.
"I will try my best not to poison you. Or myself."
She stifled a laugh, ending up with a snorting sound. "Good try, Dimitri. . . We need to work on your delivery next time though. You sound pretty sinister."
He excused himself as he retreated to the kitchen. He decided to make some vegetable soup, all while hoping he measured and sliced them all correctly.
He watched in nervous anticipation as she slurped the soup from the spoon he held, not at all noticing that Hilda was rather embarrassed with the gesture.
"H-how does it taste?"
She smiled.
"I appreciate what you did."
He waited.
"Though it is a bit salty, I think."
As his shoulders slumped in his failure, she laughed again, with a bit of vigor compared to her previous ones. He was happy to note that the medicine was likely working.
In no time, she fell asleep once more, and he realized he wanted nothing more than for her to be back to normal state. She did, two days later, much to his delight. Hilda continued being the ray of light that inspired him to move forward.
His current reality was all temporary, Dimitri knew. Like a dream, ironically. Hilda told him herself that it wasn't the place he belonged to. Yet as the days passed, a part of him realized he wanted to stay by her side, and wondered if it was alright to think if this sort of reality would never end.