Genres/Ratings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance, Introspection. (T)

Characters: Dimitri, Raine.

Summary: It had been a long several weeks, stepping into her shoes and pulling the burdens she had once borne onto his shoulders. He knew himself a strong man, it wasn't arrogance to say so, but even he felt his knees creak ominously when he tried to foist the weight entirely upon himself. How had she managed to do it without collapse from the beginning? How had she gone on so long, with so little support? He wasn't sure, but he did know he would carry the weight, and get rid of it, so that when she awoke... She would no longer ever have to concern herself with shouldering anything alone. Even if she did not want him... He would be there, silent and in the shadows, repaying his debt a piece at a time because it was the only thing he knew he could do.

Harpstring Moon

Garreg Mach Infirmaries

Night

It was one thing, in the midst of forests and villages and wilderness, to hide his presence and everything about himself to sneak about, undetected and prepared like a predator about to ambush his unsuspecting prey... but it was another entirely for the future king of Faerghus to try to mask his presence in the halls of Garreg Mach. His sheer size made him stick out like a sore thumb no matter what it was he did, and so he had condemned himself to waiting, waiting until the setting of the sun and the closure of the infirmary before he had allowed himself to slip up onto the higher floors, using the shadow and sleep of the world about him to cover his footfall before he found his way to the one room he had not seen, let alone visited, since its sole occupant had been sequestered there since the Battle at Grondor.

It had been three weeks now that she had been underneath the healing coma that Manuela, Dorothea and Mercedes had devised, but they had come with promises in recent days that soon she would be permitted to wake, and then be discharged back to her own quarters. Her body was healing nicely underneath the combination of their magic, and their confidence in her condition had done much to lift the spirits of all in the monastery. Life was simply not the same without their professor, and each of the Blue Lions was feeling it sorely. The rebellion, too, had begun to flag, but with gritted teeth and a steel spine, Dimitri had taken up his professor's fallen mantle and begun to do everything he had neglected.

It had not been easy, but he had not suspected it would be. The men had been hesitant to follow him, and rightfully so, but he had gritted his teeth and buckled down all the same. He supposed he had been lucky with the surprise visit of Caspar and Bernadetta travelling through Garreg Mach territory, as they had presented a strange set of opportunities that he had been permitted to leap upon to show his better judgement, as well as his desire to change. The two had heard of the defeat of the Empire in Grondor, and though they both had made it clear they had no intent on staying to join with the rebellion, when they had also been informed of the professor's condition, they had volunteered to stay to provide extra hands, at least for a small duration before their travels would continue.

The doors to the infirmary were closed, and with as little sound as possible, Dimitri opened the door to slide inside of the still room. He had seen all three of the best healers leaving for their rooms for the night, and had waited until most of the monastery would be sleeping before he had risked travelling up here. Even their small councils were no longer being held in the war room, but rather had been relegated to the Knight's Hall, as Dimitri had seen it best to avoid temptation by coming too close to the infirmary. His self-restraint had lasted him three weeks, three weeks of long nights, longer days, politics and battle and work, and he was beginning to grow weary... He wondered if that was what had finally made him crack, and break the oath he'd sworn to wait until she was well and conscious again before showing his face anywhere near her.

Now, with the flicker of a candle in hand, Dimitri almost held his breath as he sidled as quietly as he could about the curtain that had been drawn around the only occupied cot in the room. The sight of her was an axe to the stomach after so long, and he ground his teeth down to stop himself from making any noise as he forced himself to take a good, long look at the unconscious woman in the cot before him. She was asleep on her stomach, her head carefully supported by two pillows, and her clothes neatly folded up and settled on a nearby desk. They had been thoroughly washed, the bloodstains from her wounds in Grondor completely disappeared now, and the only remnants of her wounds were the bandages that peeked out from under the blanket that had been draped so gently over her body. He had to turn his stare away as he realized with a bit of a lurch in his stomach that she was wearing nothing below the neck but the bandages that had been tied around her chest, and while he realized this was likely more pragmatism than anything, the heat in his face reminded him that he still was standing less than a foot next to a half-naked woman, and he owed her more respect than to stare like a stricken schoolboy just because he could see the peek of her pale, smooth skin.

He returned his gaze to the desk where her things had been placed, and he noted with some amusement that her weapons had also been lined up and carefully set aside with her clothes. The dagger she always wore at her waist was still in its sheath and belt, and the Sword of the Creator lay in its sheath alongside it, as well as a pair of gauntlets much like the style of her brother's, but clearly lacking the blades. He wondered idly who had been the one with the courage to take the sword from her belt, and he could only imagine her brother having the lack of care to handle a Relic that was beyond him, and everyone else, in a horrifying fashion when it came to power. There had been a debate of where the sword should go with its master incapacitated and Dimitri had been both amused and annoyed to know that it had ended with Warin declaring it had to stay with her, and any attempt to remove it "for its own safety" was clearly a sign of mistrust of the men and women in the monastery.

It had been a sound argument, though clearly one Seteth had not expected Warin of all people to make, and he had yielded after a moment or two. It helped that the infirmary was only left unmanned during the late night hours, and there were more than enough patrolling guards to put anyone's mind at ease about someone skulking about their professor in the middle of the night. Warin's point had been a sharp one, as well as a cold reminder, that Seteth had been willing to put more security in place for the Sword of the Creator and not the woman who wielded it, if he was willing to leave her unguarded in the infirmary while she healed. Seteth had relented at that, with the only exception of adding another patrol to the night watch, which had initially been an annoyance to Dimitri's plans, until the word of her recovery had put everyone in such a good mood that security had lessened in the past several days.

Quietly, Dimitri let himself sink down into the nearby chair as he again looked over her sparse collection of belongings. Her clothes, her weapons, and nothing else... Not even a single piece of jewellery, or a bit or bauble any woman would usually have. It was a cold reminder of how closed off she still was, how little she seemed to want or even need, though he knew now her choice of withdrawing from him had been a wise one. He could still remember that glimpse he had had of her quarters after returning her there after the mess that had occurred in the Sealed Forest, and it had surprised and saddened him to see her place of living to be so sparse. She had so little in the way of personal belongings, preferring to stack books from the library beside her well-worn desk, as well as a small collection of whetstones for her weaponry maintenance... yet, her only weapons were her blades, as she proved herself a staunch swordswoman, though she did have some proficiency in hand-to-hand, as her brother and father had likely taught her when she was young.

She slept on beside him, oblivious to him and the world entire, and he watched her in thoughtful, pained silence... It was true that she looked healthier, having been underneath the care of three of Fódlan's best healers, but to see her so unnaturally still did his heart no favours. To call her sleeping seemed wrong when she did not twitch or move like one would usually in their sleep. Instead she simply lay still as a statue, her breathing calm and regular, but otherwise showing no signs of life. Her pallor had returned to its usual colour, and the shadows that had been creeping underneath her eyes were gone. The weight she had lost had not yet returned, leaving her thinner than he remembered, but Mercedes had reassured those worried that it would not take long for her to put it back on once she woke and returned to her usual lifestyle.

Yet... Her usual lifestyle had become the problem, though no one had really had the courage to say so even if the thought was in everyone's eyes. She was overburdened, and though there was aid to be had, she simply could not, or would not take it. Dimitri had to wonder if it had been that thought that had softened the cold first-impression he had been met with when he had made it clear he would be taking over for her in the interim. He had taken on all the burdens that had previously her own, and though he'd stumbled, had faltered... He had still stood and took it all without a word of complaint.

Training had been seen to, as had the finer details of the plan to lay siege to Fhirdiad, and every day he joined the new recruits, as well as his old comrades, out on the field in practise bouts and meals as he saw to working himself back into the core of the rebellion's lifestyle. There was wariness, and there was a fair bit of hostility, but Dimitri knew to take it all in stride. He had no other choice, if he was to truly win back any of their favour, and he took any battle that was offered, and left when it was made clearly known that he was not wanted. It was a dangerous game to play, a difficult line to walk... but he would walk it all the same.

A whisper of a breeze blew by his cheek, brushing his bangs across the right side of his face and reminding him of one of the other many changes that had taken place in the past several weeks. It had been Mercedes' idea, the changing of his hair, and after hearing her argument that a good, new look would make him both feel refreshed as well as give him something new to present to the others... Dimitri had seen little reason not to give her suggestion a try. Now the front half of his hair was pulled back into a small, messy ponytail, somewhat resembling how Felix preferred his hair, with the rest now confined underneath the thick, black strap of his eyepatch band. It left the right side of his bangs free to tickle at his cheek on occasion, but with Mercedes' seal of approval, Dimitri had hesitantly chosen to work with what he had been given. At the very least, a change to his appearance, which he already knew to be intimidating, couldn't hurt him further.

"It's been... strange... All of this. Even the smallest things, the most... inconsequential of things... They do make an impact, even if that impact is small, in and of itself..." Dimitri found himself speaking without thinking, and he leaned forward on his knees, raising his hands to rest his chin on his knuckles as he looked down quietly at the sleeping woman before him. His chest felt lighter, somehow less constricting as he allowed his words to flow, and he wondered if it was because he hadn't allowed himself to speak of it yet, or simply because it was her when he muttered, "Who would have known something as simple as a change of hair could make someone look at me differently... Would you laugh, I wonder, if you could see me now? Beforehand, nothing mattered. Nothing but revenge... Now, to think I'd be caring for my appearance, in concern of how it would make others view me... To you, I imagine that must be ludicrous... Or perhaps, it's... more close to how things once were... Long, long ago."

It had been five long, long years of running, hunting, pain and anger and suffering... Five long years of swearing vengeance, becoming a beast, and living as a monster... And it made that year beforehand, that single, warm, quiet year of tutelage underneath her patient, kind hand seem all the more distant, and yet somehow also so very, very bright. So bright that it hurt him sometimes to look directly at it and recall all he had shoved aside in the name of revenge, and all he had lost and suffered. Perhaps that was why he had buried it so deeply, had closed his eyes to the light and delved into the dark, but he still could not entirely be sure.

"A few of our comrades say that I've returned to how I once was... It is... difficult to accept those words, knowing how untrue they are. What I was... is what I am. Nothing has truly changed, except for how I now see things. I'm not certain that is enough to say that I, myself, have changed." Dimitri confessed these words quietly, speaking more into his knuckles than to the open room, and he closed his eye, wondering why he couldn't bear to look upon that still, silent form when he knew it would hold no judgement for what he said. It was not as if she could hear, but he spoke to her nonetheless. He had to. A font somewhere inside of him had been sprung open, forcing thoughts and words he had thought he would take to the grave with him spewing forth, and only here, only in her presence, could he find safety to let them loose. "I do not know how to address them... or if I should. Would it only makes things more difficult? Or would my honesty assuage their worries? Dedue argues the former, which I admit, seems accurate... And things have already been so difficult. But... That is penance. If cleansing oneself of sins was easy... This world would be full of saints."

He looked to her again, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest in time with her breathing, and again felt that pulse of guilt and pain deep in his chest. That difficulty... That burden... It only fell to him now because he had ignored it. How long had she carried that weight? How long had she soldiered on through the difficulties, without making a word of complaint to anyone? She did not deserve such a life. Such burdens... Yet they were burdens she took on all the same, and he let out a long, wounded breath, "I owe you... more than I can put into words... and the apologies I wish to say to you... They are beyond count. All of this... is my doing. From the very beginning, I've been a weight upon your shoulders. Unasked for, unlooked for, yet something you took up all of the same. Since the first day we met, outside of Remire... You've never had a single choice in anything, since that day, have you? Everything was decided for you, without your consent, without your input, and along you went, because you believed it best to do as you were told. You never asked for my burdens to be yours. Yet you took them anyway."

Again his eyes closed, and he remembered that day outside of the Sealed Forest, when he had teetered, when he had fumbled, and when he had turned his back on her. Carrying her in his arms, knowing she depended on him and needed him, and yet... Still, he had chosen another path. A path without her. His teeth ground down impulsively, and his hands tightened until his knuckles turned white. The flow of rage and self-loathing burnt hot, but beneath it was cold shame, shame and disappointment and wistfulness, and it turned his voice mournful as he continued regretfully, "Despite all that you did for me until then... Despite how much you put into knowing me, helping me, guiding me... I abandoned you that day. I chose my path of revenge, rather than a path of potential healing. The thought of you burnt me. Terrified me. It made so many things I had clung to until that moment seem small, and insignificant. What did the dead matter, compared to you? What did anything matter, compared to you? I had felt it before, that day when Captain Jeralt lost his life, and I thought it may have been you... and the world stopped for me, just for a moment. If you were dead... The world could fall away without consequence... and the thought of that, the thought you, upending everything I had lived for until that moment... I wouldn't allow it."

More pain. His hands were aching, and he looked to them without truly seeing them to notice he had clenched down until his nails had pressed bruises into his skin. He didn't doubt they would last days, but he didn't mind. They were trivial compared to the ache in his chest, and the aching in his temples. It was all memory, memory and heartache he had worked so hard to erase, but it had never truly gone away. Instead it had simmered beneath the surface all of these years, in horrific nightmares and wild, insane fantasy, and he let out another breath as he forced himself to lean back, to loosen his posture and relax himself as he muttered raggedly, "And then... you were gone. Lost to the siege... and I was imprisoned shortly after. I dreamt of you rescuing me. Returning from the grave to break me free, and when you never appeared... Tch... I was foolish. To spurn you, and then wish for you to save me... I was selfish, too. You were dead and gone, then... and even when I found freedom, you were the one shackle I couldn't cut away. Was it regret? Was it longing? Anger...? I wish I knew. Even now... I cannot tell you what it was I felt all these years for you. It all became so jumbled together, so mixed and muddled until I didn't know whether I hated you, or loved you."

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he knew full well the truth despite his questions. It simply felt too freeing to stop himself from speaking, even though the honest truth was still something he was afraid to speak. It was shame now that held his tongue, shame and a deep, cold sense of horror, but it was something he knew he had to face. She had never haunted him as the others had. He had supposed it would only be a matter of time before her ghost joined the others, joined Glenn, his father and his stepmother, but that time had never came. Instead, she had haunted him when he slept... In dreams and nightmares and fantasies that were both a balm, and the sharpest of wounds or deadliest of poisons. He had been but a boy when he had met her, but it had not made her any less beautiful to him... and as a man... As a man, she made him more of a beast than any of his deeds ever could.

He shuddered reflexively, and swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat with great effort. He reached over silently, plucking the blanket from her and carefully, slowly, pulling it farther up until not a shred of her skin could be seen. It both shamed and embarrassed him, knowing that even the barest sight of her torso was enough to stir him, even when she was like this, but there was no denying his body's reaction. Still, even after all this time, he wanted her. Even in the worst throes of his madness, that hadn't changed. The nightmares had persisted, had chiselled away at his conscience and whispered in his ear that he was indeed a monster for thinking of her as he did, for creating these images in his mind that made him wake throbbing, panting, and aching with want and self-hatred long after the fog of sleep and dreams had released him.

"Everything I do now... It is spurred by you. The greater good is the end goal, and it's what should drive me more than anything, but... I know that in the end... All I wish for more than anything is to see you smile again as you used to. Even if it isn't me that brings that look back to your face, that in the end, is my dearest wish." Dimitri ran a hand tiredly through his hair, and his hands settled on his knees as he watched her, closely, carefully, and forced himself not to reach for her. Her hand had felt so cold on his skin that day in Grondor, warm and slick with her own blood, but her flesh had been that of ice... and more than anything, he wanted to touch her hand again, feel her warmth, and remind himself that she was, indeed, alive.

The action of course was beyond question. He was crossing more than enough boundaries by simply being there, and he would not cross more. He was selfish enough to give himself this, but he would take no more from her, even if it would be a balm, and a boost he sorely needed. She had given enough without him there to provide for her, and to take when she was in no position to give consent... That was heresy. Yet, it didn't stop him from speaking to her, giving himself an outlet he had not had until that moment, and he knew his selfishness ran deeper than he wanted to admit. He was being hypocritical, yet... What other options did he really have?

"So much has been done these past three weeks... I wonder if you would have approved of my actions... I... I tried to act as you would. Tried to think as you would... but I am... unsure if I would have met your standards..." Dimitri admitted quietly, and a wry, awkward smile curled at his lips as he wondered why, even now, he was seeking her approval like he was still her bumbling and unsure student. She had awed him as a boy, with her skill and talent and experience despite how few years she had on him, and even now... She still continued to make him shrink back from her in surprise and wonder. Was it simply because of how he felt for her, or was she truly that good? Perhaps it was a mixture. He could not tell. But he continued all the same, feeling his tension releasing, feeling himself lighten as he told her of the happenings she had missed in her sleep, "In the end, I think... It was Petra that provided me with that one stepping stone I needed the most to show my intent, and to prove I was at least worth putting faith in again for one more try. And to have that chance given to me by Petra of all people, who has no stake in this war, in the Kingdom's affairs... You were right to bring her into the fold of the Blue Lions. To show us of a world beyond Faerghus. She has made us all wiser... and she has been much kinder to me than I have deserved."

Petra had spoken to him bluntly of the precarious position Brigid had been in since the beginning to the Empire's start of conquest, but until now, they had been able to balance themselves into a strange place of neutrality. The defeat at Grondor had the Empire scrambling for allies and men from wherever they could take them, and Brigid was ripe with fresh soldiers, and still, in name, a vassal state to the Empire. With her grandfather as leader because of her youth, Petra had been free to leave Brigid to answer the call of the promise they had all made, but now he requested his granddaughter's aid... and Petra had asked for Dimitri's in return.

"To think, my first foray to the field after Grondor would be not Fhirdiad, not Enbarr, but Brigid... Had you told me this moons ago, I would have called you a fool. Yet... There I went, all the same..." Dimitri mused quietly, thinking of that strong, quiet, but sincere intensity that had inflamed Petra's adust eyes when she had come to him, not as a comrade but as another future ruler with the request to help free her homeland from the Empire, and amass sorely needed troops for the rebellion's next move... He was not sure if her bravery had impressed him, or had cowed him. She was a ruler in training, unlike his fellow nobles, with an entire country to shoulder, and she carried the burden far better than he ever could. She spoke plainly and factually, that with or without him she would be returning to Brigid to meet the Empire's forces head-on to protect her homeland... but he would not permit her to do so. "I don't believe I was wrong to go with her... No, it was the right thing to do, but... I admit, selfishly, I was glad for the opportunity to show my mettle, and my honesty. Perhaps that's why she told me from the start. She did not need my permission to return home. She certainly did not need my blessing, either... She could have rallied a group of men all on her own, and I know the entirety of our class would have leapt at the chance to give her aid, yet she came to me all the same... I owe her much for how things have gone, since then... Taking back Brigid, ensuring her homeland's safety and well-being... It was right, and it... it gave me the chance I had been seeking."

The battle had been a hard one, but he had not allowed Petra to fight it alone, despite her insistence that if he was not of mind to give her aid, she would not judge him poorly. She had pragmatic opinions of the fighting between the Kingdom and the Empire, knowing that Brigid needed to step out of the shadows in order to join either as a commanding, respected country of its own rather than a vassal state... and either side would have granted her this opportunity. Yet, she had also admitted it was loyalty to Raine and to the Blue Lions that had made her answer the call to the promise first, and pragmatism for Brigid's best interests second... and while she was here, fighting alongside the rebellion... She would be a Blue Lion first, and a queen-to-be second. That thought had goaded him more than anything else into pledging himself to her cause, and he had taken to the field alongside her, ready, willing and determined to prove his words were not empty... and grateful, painfully grateful, that she would allow for it after the way she had said so plainly that the end of the Kingdom was of no consequence to her if it did not impact her homeland.

"With Brigid secured, and protected, we have added more men to our army... and Petra has thrown her support wholly behind me. I do not deserve it, but she has called it a simple choice. If I were to risk life and limb for her homeland, even if it was of benefit to myself and our fight... Then she saw no reason to not give her loyalty to me, as she gave to you." Dimitri wondered at the woman's confidence, as well as her ability to cut aside details and nuance to get to the heart of the matter, but he appreciated her and her simple wisdom deeply. She was a stalwart ally, and one he considered himself lucky to have on his side. She would have been a ferocious enemy otherwise, and he did not want to imagine how the circumstances could have changed, had they never been comrades to begin with. The thought made him smile wryly, and he almost chuckled as he mused softly, "If I am lucky, then I must admit I consider Ashe to be blessed. He threw his support behind her without question, and she was not remiss in showing her gratitude to him rather... openly. She took him with her to meet her grandfather, despite all objections he raised, and he raised many... The Kingdom will miss him, when he eventually goes to Brigid, but if he is to find his dream and happiness there... It will be of no consequence to us."

He had wondered at first, when it had all began and how he had missed it, but stepping back from the shadows and looking at things with new eyes had opened his mind to the reality of all that was going on with his old friends and comrades. He had missed it simply because he could not bear to look at it. It was easier to ignore the small, desperate grabs for happiness and peace that his friends were snatching for themselves in the midst of the war than it was to see them and feel glad for them, as it only was a sharp reminder of what he did not have, and what, deep down, he sorely wanted. Envy had made him as much of a monster as revenge had, but at least now, he could say honestly, that he no longer felt those dark pangs of jealousy for the things he saw. Instead there was only happiness, true and deep happiness, because he knew how precious those moments could be, and what strength could be derived from it when all seemed grim and dark.

"You had said at the great bridge, that this was what we were fighting for. I had pretended not to understand... but I knew what you meant. Seeing Ferdinand and Dorothea... I knew. How could I not? It was that very thing that drove me mad in the first place... and you knew it, too." Dimitri sighed, both with guilt and regret, but his lips were still slightly upturned with a painful sort of amusement and happiness... He felt for his comrades, and he shared their joy and their comfort, even if it was only from afar. It was soothing to see, happiness and love blooming amongst the bloodstained fields of battle, but that too, was also the way of war. Life was short already. Battle made it shorter. To seize happiness where it could be taken, regardless of the consequence, of the duration of that happiness... That was natural human selfishness... and he did not wish to deny them a moment of it, or think it useless. He knew better, and would act accordingly, as he knew she wanted him to. "You knew, and were seeking to stop it before it could even begin, regardless of what it cost you. How many lives have you saved? How much happiness can we directly trace back to your doings...? The chains of command have been cruel to you, but you have not allowed them to make you cruel in return... It's that aspect of you that has allowed you to make former enemies into your most staunch of allies."

Ferdinand had approached him already to beg for a place to be put, whether on the battlefield or no, so he could repay his debts... and in another lifetime, Dimitri knew he would have thrown him from the monastery, or killed him outright because of his former allegiance. Now...? All he could feel was shame, shame and a deep sense of mourning for the desperation Ferdinand had showed to him at his lowest. He was a broken man, no longer capable of fighting, but still so desperate to pay back the woman who had led him home instead of striking him down when she had stood as his enemy. His life, and his happiness, he owed directly to Raine. The fact that he could do nothing now to support her, that he couldn't wield a lance in her name... It broke him, and Dimitri knew just how deeply that guilt had to run.

"Ferdinand is a good man. A loyal, patriotic man... He has been done a grave wrong, and he has done many wrongs in return, but... I cannot say that he was misguided. It would be hypocritical. At the very least, for him, all he ever wished was for the good of his homeland, and when he knew it had gone too far, he was ready to throw down his weapon in disgust... Saving him from himself was the right choice to make... but I wonder if you thought beyond that..." Dimitri let out another low breath, and he glanced to the ceiling thoughtfully. Ferdinand had presented a unique opportunity to him, to them all, as a former noble of high esteem in the Empire, and though Edelgard had stripped him and his family of their titles and land... He still, by blood, was someone with massive power and influence inside of their enemy's country. "He has said that though his days as a soldier are over, he is still a noble... and he hopes, someday and somehow, when Edelgard and her taint have been washed from the Empire that perhaps reforms can be made for his homeland. He is not ignorant to the fact that this war will tear down the Empire... but he still hopes for it to be rebuilt. And that... That is not a thought I have given much time to. Is it a possibility? Can the Empire be reformed and rebuilt, if this war is won...? Have you thought of such things already? Have you hoped for them?"

She didn't answer, but Dimitri did not need her to. He knew her well enough to know it had to have at least crossed her mind, with how she had spoken so fiercely of the fact that the Emperor was not the Empire entire, regardless of how it had to have looked to him. There were soldiers and smallfolk alike being crushed underneath the boot of Edelgard's rule, and to first free them, it meant cutting off the head of the snake... but what was to be done of the remnants left behind afterwards? He was not a conqueror, regardless of what his wishes had once been. He had given no thought or energy to what would come afterwards. Such thoughts had never even occurred to him... but he knew the same could not be said of her.

"Despite what you said to us as students, to look at the battle ahead and never beyond the horizon of it... You cannot practise what you preach now as a commander. You have never been looking at the battle at your feet. You've been ten steps ahead, of both all of us, and of her... and now, you leave me wondering if you've been even farther into the future, planning for the end, and what lays even beyond that." The thought made him chuckle ruefully, but it also left him with a bittersweet sort of understanding. Her exhaustion made far more sense when he looked to her in this light, rather than in the other. She was never simply looking to the present. She couldn't afford to do so, not when she knew her enemy would not be content to do the same. So she changed her ways, her methods, to match and get ahead... and get ahead she had, if the battle in Grondor had proven anything. "A truce with the Alliance, built right under our noses... and a possible foothold into the Empire, to establish peace and hope of rebuilding and reformation, when the war ends... Not only have you put the future of Faerghus onto your shoulders, but the entirety of Fódlan, too... and you spoke nothing of it to anyone. Forgive me."

A conflicted sense of satisfaction and anger burnt inside of his chest and made his eye smart, and he wondered at the outrage he was feeling on her behalf. It was something he was only realizing and therefore only coming to grips with, but it made him understand Warin's anger and hatred in a far more intimate way now. The mercenary had claimed, without a hint of deceit, that he cared not for the continent and its squabbles, and would sooner watch it burn than risk his neck to put out the fires it itself had lit... and he could understand now why he felt that way. All of his life, too, had been a path dictated for him by his father, and by the fear of the Church of Seiros, and only now was he free of those bonds. Yet he stayed, stayed because he had given himself one chain and one chain only to abide by, and that chain was his sister. And his sister... His sister was wrapped from head to toe in chains, and not one of those chains could she remove of her own volition.

No, instead they had been wrapped around her, choking and strangling and weighing her down until she could barely crawl underneath the weight of it all. But crawled on she did, because she knew no other way of life, and Dimitri burned for her in indignance even if she would not, or could not do so for herself. The church had robbed her of her family, and then had forced a burden she was completely unprepared for onto her shoulders. She had lost five years, only to return and once again have a mantle she did not want shoved into her hands, and not one soul had tried to make it easier for her since. It made him hate himself, himself and the Church for what they were forcing her to do, and he admitted that in a ragged breath, "Archbishop Rhea called you "chosen" by the Goddess... but what has that given you, really...? What blessing has she bestowed on you, in return for all she's demanded? Was this how Saint Seiros felt, when she led her army against Nemesis? Burdens upon burdens... Aching for freedom... because she did not want what the Goddess had demanded of her? Is that why, in Grondor... you looked so peaceful... because you believed it was finally over?"

The words burnt on his tongue, bit deep into his soul, but he had seen what no one else had in that dimming light in her seafoam-green eyes that day. The relief that she showed was not only for his safety. It was one fact he had absolute confidence in. Despite the pain of her wounds, despite the obvious suffering she was enduring... She had smiled, not only for him, but also for herself. He had felt that wanting before, he still felt that wanting even now, but never had he had the strength or the will to act upon it. No, he had reasoned that when the time came, it would come at the sword of someone he had wronged, of someone he had indirectly harmed on his own bloody path, and then he would see the flames take him for all of his sins. But even then, he knew, he would feel relief for the end to have finally come to claim him. That same feeling he had seen on her face that day, even if it tortured him to admit it, and it made his hands clench on his knees as he asked, begged in a shaken, agonized whisper, "Did you wish for death that badly, Professor...? Did we... Did I... force you so tightly into a corner that death would be a relief for you?"

No answer came, but he did not need, nor truly want to have one. Either kind, a denial or an admittance would break him when he already knew the truth. He could only hope no one else would know, that no one else would guess, lest that guilt spread like a plague amongst the men and the Blue Lions. Already they were wilting, coming to grips with the fact that again they had all failed her in their own ways, and he was not sure this failure was something they could live with. It was taking too much from all of them to rally again without her, which only made him ache all the more fiercely. She was truly the glue that held them all together, and without her... There really was no one else capable of filling her shoes, regardless of how they tried.

Dimitri took in a deep, shuddery breath, and reminded himself of why he had come. There was still more for him to tell, more for him to ruminate on, and to spend his precious minutes in a cycle of self-loathing and guilt would do him no good. It was true he would find no counsel from an unconscious woman, but he did not want counsel. He simply wished to speak aloud for once, with no judgement, with no one to either build him up or tear him down. Only she could give him that, and he reached blindly, forcing his voice to steady as he thought for the mission looming on the dawn of the morrow, "Tomorrow... We march out for the Sealed Forest. Caspar came by alarming news of the Death Knight's presence there, as well as a handful of soldiers... Bernadetta only barely managed to keep him from charging out himself then and there... but what worries me more is Mercedes' reaction. She seems just as eager as Caspar to meet the Death Knight again, but she won't speak to anyone on why... To leave them there as they are is out of the question, but I admit, I hesitate on what to do with Mercedes... It isn't as if I have the authority to tell her she cannot go. I have not yet tried to make such a command, nor do I wish to... but I worry for her, all the same. Since the reports, she has not been herself. Even Felix is showing concern."

In the end, Dimitri was already aware that he would likely allow Mercedes to head out along with them to confront the Death Knight and his men, and to try to stop her would be a useless endeavour. She was twice as stubborn as any mule when the mood took her, and she was the one person he did not wish to test the temper of. He had been lucky enough with her aid already. It had been unlooked for but still given readily, but he knew better than to assume it meant forgiveness. After all, who had been the one to stay beside their professor since the moment she had seen her wounded? What she had seen and done in the past several weeks had given her intimate knowledge of Raine's condition... and if she blamed him, which he did not doubt she did... She was holding it tightly to her chest in order to preserve the peace.

"I wonder of their goal, being so close to Garreg Mach, after the defeat in Grondor... It makes little sense to me, and I admit I cannot see the Death Knight being here underneath Edelgard's orders... He has been a ferocious foe each and every time we met him on the field, and to lose him in this manner would be foolish..." Dimitri mused quietly, and he thought of how odd it had felt, and how uncertain it had made him, to hear Warin agree with him when he had been speaking of this opinion beforehand when the news had first broke. Warin's hostility had not ebbed since that day in the rain by the stables, yet in place of his sister, he attended every war meeting, and gave his opinion without pause or care for how his presence looked to the others. Some accepted him without question, viewing him as their professor's equal, but Dimitri was aware that Gilbert did not hold him in the same esteem, and Seteth was still wary of him. Their agreement however on the Death Knight's behaviour had united the table for once though, and he continued with a slow shake of his head, "Guessing at his motives however does not change the threat he poses... and to strike him down now would be another sorely needed boon, if it is manageable... He cannot be left to his own devices, so close to the monastery... He, and his, will be routed with extreme prejudice... and perhaps we will learn something of him, and the men that follow him. From the reports of the scouts, they are not Imperial troops, but soldiers of another league entirely... Perhaps men underneath Thales' command, if your brother's guess is accurate..."

It was too much to speculate on with the little information they had, but Dimitri would admit that at least it had real merit. Had they not, time and time again, seen these darkly-garbed soldiers and mages, interspersed with the Imperial forces at every turn? When reinforcements had arrived in Grondor, Rodrigue had spoken of the fact that only half of their numbers had been flying a flag of the Empire, with the other showing no colours of any sort. While it was true they worked in tandem, they was a clear divide between them nonetheless... and more and more, Dimitri was realizing that where these dark-robes appeared, Demonic Beasts always were quick to follow. The Death Knight's appearance matched this pattern, so the odds were high that perhaps he was acting out of step with the wishes of the Imperial army... but that only rose questions of who he served, why, and what his motives were for breaking the illusion of his being a faithful servant of the Emperor.

"Tomorrow, perhaps we will find answers... If we do not, I cannot say it will be a loss. They must be driven from our territory to ensure the safety of our men, and the surrounding villages... Only with that can we leave Garreg Mach for Fhirdiad, at the end of the moon... I would not dare risk a march of our forces so far from the monastery otherwise." The call for the capitol was strong, incredibly strong, but Dimitri knew he had to weigh his desires to show himself trustworthy to natural prudence. Taking the best with him for a strike to the Dukedom meant leaving the monastery undermanned, even with their bolstered numbers, and the knowledge that the Empire was still in complete disarray was only a small comfort. But it meant the window was closing with each day they delayed, and the pressure was a tight, unrelenting grip.

"Rodrigue assures me my concern is unneeded. Though Grondor has not been taken formally by any territory, we still hold the Great Bridge... and the Alliance has sent a small force to aid us in keeping it well-manned. A token of goodwill, Claude had called it... Wrestled from him nearly at lance-point, no doubt, if Warin is to be believed..." Dimitri sighed and ran a hand tiredly through his hair again, and he wondered at what other difficulties would arise from the Alliance leader. He had been firm in wanting to deal with Raine and Raine only, but that had been out of the question then. Dimitri knew full well when word of her recovery reached his ears that the request for favours would come pouring in... and they could not be ignored after what had occurred in Grondor. After all, despite Raine's best efforts, the Alliance forces had taken nearly as much damage as the Imperial army, and their need would be great if they, too, planned to take the war to the home-front, before turning their attention to driving out the remnants of the Empire's grip on their territory. "Yet, for all his willingness to fight alongside us in Grondor, I suppose he is only looking out for his best interests. To keep his own men stationed on the bridge keeps the Alliance's troops aware of both the Empire and rebellion's movements... He is wary of us, and he has his rights to be. Grondor was a stroke of good fortune. Such things rarely occur twice. If we wish to prove ourselves allies of merit, it is best we work alongside one another now, and not later."

Which only led to the one question that had been whispered about, but not yet spoken of aloud, even at the war councils... Once the Alliance had stability, as the Kingdom would... Would they turn their men to Enbarr, or allow for the Empire and Kingdom to fight the rest of the war out? There was no doubt that a two-pronged attack upon the capitol would have the most chance of success, but to make any such request of the Alliance was not something Dimitri could do. Claude had already made it clear any negotiation that would take place about truces and treaties would only be something he would consider if Raine was the one to speak with him, and Dimitri had no intention of trying to take her place on such unsteady ground. It did not matter that it seemed a matter of simple mathematics. Claude had his own worries to concern himself with, and if he had no interest in aiding the rebellion further, that was not a position that could be challenged by the likes of him. Not when only two moons prior, he had not considered the idea of a truce with the Alliance at all.

His eyelids felt heavy, and his body was aching both with the pain of his still-healing wounds, and the reminder that more battle was to come with the dawn. He could not stay without risking falling asleep in the chair he sat in, and with great difficulty, Dimitri forced himself back to his feet. The last thing he needed, that anyone needed, was knowing he had snuck into the infirmary to see her alone and in the depths of the night. Any goodwill he had scraped and clawed for would disappear in an instant, and it would be well deserved.

Still... For a moment, Dimitri lingered at her side as he watched her closely... Longingly. Her hand peeked out from the corner of the blanket, small, and pale... and without thought, he stooped to reach and brush his fingers along the back of it. Her skin was warm, a jarring change from that day in Grondor, and unbidden, a sigh of relief escaped him. Her hand felt soft, softer than a hand that had been holding a sword for the majority of its life had any right to be... and it felt incredibly fragile underneath his own. Was it his Crest's strength that made it seem so, or simply the fact that she was still laying unconscious? He could not tell, and he did not want to. His fingertips traced the shape of her knuckles, lingering on her own fingers before he sighed softly, "You've saved me with these hands more times than I can count... Guided me, led me through the dark, and pulled me unceremoniously back into the light when I was sure it was the end... I'd be a liar if I said I didn't want to hold onto your hands for the rest of my days, and keep them warm for the rest of your life. Warm, safe, and clean of the blood you'd have to spill on my account... When you wake... I will tell you everything. And when you reject me... I'll stay your guardian in the shadows, until the day comes when someone better than I can finally give you the happiness you deserve... but I won't forget. I wont forget... and I will never stop loving you. I swear it."

AN:

As uneventful as a piece this is, I still had to write it to really showcase all that's gone on, how hard it's been, and how difficult life really is for the rebellion without their professor there to be guiding them. In every route, it's made explicitly clear that any success that is gained really is owed to Byleth. Even in CF, when the Imperial army has everything it needs to continue on forward... They still stall out at the timeskip because they are simply that handicapped by Byleth's absence. (And their successes are even fewer than in all routes where Edelgard is not your chosen lord, which is even more darkly humourous, depending on your take of things.) Having a Byleth be taken out mid-game, even if only for a little while, I imagine creates a similar amount of chaos considering the sheer weight they're carrying as leader of the rebellion, regardless of whether or not they took that leadership willingly, or had it shoved unceremoniously onto them.

Of course, in AM, it's pretty damn clear Raine is struggling underneath something she didn't sign up for, and it's really only being noticed now because of her extreme measures in keeping Dimitri safe. Her idea however of how well they could continue without her sadly is not a realistic one. Dimitri's proven himself less than trustworthy, and to gain back the respect and faith of his men, he needs both time and opportunity to do so, and that is both in short supply. (Hence the mentions of some paralogues, which would give him those chances.) And that is something clearly lacking in AM, a good, strong arc of rebuilding Dimitri back up from the ground, but I can understand time constraints. Thankfully, fanfiction is a great cure for it, as I like to say.

Raine however will be recovering from being out of action next chapter, so no more worries for her. Still, I can imagine you guys can guess where she'll be thrown next, being up and about now. Any predictions on how it will go, or the rating it will deserve? I'm wondering at your guesses! And how about the plot? What do you think I'm leading up to, if I haven't been clear enough on it? Or, perhaps, what do you hope I'm leading up to? Any feedback would be nice, as always!

PS: Warin and Raine's chat is coming, but unfortunately it's still a few chapters out, as the next two chapters are Dimitri/Raine centric. However, I haven't forgotten about him, and he will be having a serious sit-down with his sister, but timing is sadly everything, and I can't cover too many topics per chapter, or push everything into one moon. His moment with Raine will be taking place after Fhirdiad's capture, so I'll beg for patience as I continue on writing! Thanks for the understanding!

Anyway, it's time for me to sign off and go back to sleep, as per usual. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I hope you have a good one. Please leave a review should you feel the need, and I'll see you again soon!

Mood: Sore.

Listening To: "Living in the Shadows" - Matthew Perryman Jones (Love, Death and Robots)

~ Sky