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Byleth frowned as she stepped onto the train. She supposed that she shouldn't be surprised—it is December, as the frigid, thin air outside would be too eager to remind her. And yet, it still felt impossible to be accustomed to the stifling swarm of tourist season.
She could recount this routine like the back of her hand, if she wanted to. The train doors, closing behind her. The slow, stuttering start as the train began to move on to its next station, before settling at a cruising, complacent velocity. The park below her whizzing by—her frown deepened, to see what was previously vivid greenery had now already withered away into thin, wiry brown amidst a ghostly white. An inevitable phase of life, but one that was ugly all the same.
She sighed, resolving to let her eyes wander around the crowd. This part, at least, she was familiar with. It’s a little more arduous to make out the faces in such a bustling mass of people—families with impatient younglings fawned over by doting parents, or couples likely going for perfect Instagram opportunities. Still, no sign, as expected.
That didn’t make it any easier, of course.
The doors opened at Cichol Station at 1012—a minute late today; unusual, and closed at 1013. She pulled her jacket’s collar higher when a particularly biting draft whirled in, cursing at herself for not leaving with a proper winter coat. Surely all this time spent in—well, Switzerland and Russia now—would have built up some immunity for the cold.
But all she wanted right now, really, was what cold is an absence of: warmth.
The train jerked to a sudden halt, and her eyes flew open to feel her body being flung to the front. It took a beat for her to steady herself to her feet, brushing off her jacket, and another for her to realize that she’d flung into an actual human being.
“Ah, I’m sorry!” She galloped through her words, bowing slightly towards the stranger.
“Oh, no! It’s all good, all good—”
“No, sorry, I—”
The moment Byleth tilted her head up to look at him, her jaw dropped.
This stranger was tall, with slicked-back blond hair tied behind into a small ponytail. His face (and figure, despite the faux-fur coat that he donned) seemed to belong more to a modeling or sports magazine than the real world. His eyes—both of them were striking icy blue, so blue she’d be able to identify them in an ocean of people.
There was no mistaking it.
“Dimitri?” she exclaimed, trying to maintain a casual mien, a dormant smile on her face. “Is that you??” Suddenly it felt like an entire colony of butterflies forming in her stomach—wings fluttering, ready to take flight and burst into colour.
But when the man turned to her from his phone, earphones (AirPods? That’s what they were called right?) still in his ears—it was like the swarm perished straight to dust. The corners of his mouth jerked upwards and down again, his eyebrows furrowing a smidge. “Hello there. I—well. Do I know you?”
Byleth’s blood circulation froze in time. Wait… wait—what?
…
…oh.
…Oh.
Well. In truth, statistically, she’d figured that one day it’d happen like this. That one day, her luck would run out on her.
Yet still, the blow struck her with such a ramming force, that for a good while, the deeply embedded instinct within her to breathe dislodged itself. It was like she’d been dropped into freezing waters, her body left with no choice but to sink.
“Oh.” She turned her head to the side, fingers fiddling at the hem of her jacket. “I… I’m sorry, I thought you were someone I knew.”
“Could it be me still? My name’s Dimitri too—Dimitri Blagonravov.”
“Right, right, I’m looking for a different—wait.”
Blagonravov. Her eyes widened with a small epiphany, as if she could hear a small bell ringing, calling back to when she’d looked at her list of tourists for today.
“You’re visiting Garreg Mach, yes?” she said, turning back to him. “Fódlan Travel?”
“Oh!!” The same epiphany started to flood his mien too, as he put away one of his AirPods. “You’re my tour guide! Byleth, is it?”
“Yes!” she answered, beaming at him, the tension in her muscles dissipating in a small, luminous flicker. “That’s me.”
“Ah, I can’t wait! I read the reviews for you; how lucky was I to be able to book you! The waiting list was awful…”
Finally, he gave her a whole-hearted smile, one so radiant and genuine and warm it was like it’d contained the sun itself, rising to mark a new dawn.
And yet, an instinct kicked in her that detected just how strange his mouth curved, how off-kilter it was from the template she’d associate most with joy. Almost like it was still hollow, unbeknownst to even Dimitri himself.
“… and on my last day here, too! I’m just glad, given how good a guide people say—“
“Wait.” Oh no. She could feel her heart sink even deeper within her. “You’re going to be here just one day?”
“Unfortunately, yeah.” He shot her a sheepish look, rubbing a hand behind his neck. “My AirBnB here’s only for a day—well, technically, I’ll be here when I check out—so. Two days?”
“Oh. I… I see.”
The air seemed to split into two as the train entered a tunnel, plunging the interior into a stretching, pitch-black darkness. Even with the fluorescent lights in the train ending their plight, it was hard to focus on anything, even on Dimitri himself.
She took a quick glance at him. Her thumb pressed, lingered, against the two rings that she wore on her index finger. “I just thought, this city has so much to offer, it’d be a shame if you just spent one day here at the monastery…”
“Afraid I can’t,” he told her with a sheepish smile, slight furrow of his eyebrows. “Sorry about that.”
Byleth glanced back down at the whirring blur of remnant forestry below once more, at the bleak streets of concrete. Some of these streets had now been modernised, converted into whatever purpose was trendy that needed to be fulfilled—shophouses, little cafes, tacky gift stores—while some had their maintained histories hanging by a thread.
How fast things have changed—and without her even noticing, either…
“Ah, but—where are my manners?” Dimitri branched out one of his hands—housed in a fingerless glove—towards her, a radiant smile arced along his lips, an extension of amiability and nearly overt courtesy. “It’s an honour to meet you, Byleth: and here’s to hoping for a great tour.”
Byleth took a hard swallow, eyes unable to escape the gravitational pull of his hand. It’d been a while since she’d heard the syllables of her name mouthed like that. It was so… neutral. Void of emotion at all. Looking at his gloved hand, it was like a round hole staring at a square peg. Like staring at an abyss, separating two ledges that seemed to stretch on for eternity.
“I… Dimitri, I—”
She hadn’t even registered the train’s regular stop again; her foothold released a bit too easily, and she found her body flung forward once more, this time into the arms of Dimitri. She looked up at him, doe-eyed, blood rushing to her head. There was his face of initial surprise, the slight smile of assurance. But the longer that his arms around her lingered, the more his smile started to melt. The warmer their embrace felt. The more she started to feel the tension of a tether, connecting her to something as far away as its gravity was immense.
A tether pulled taut, ready to snap.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” was all that she could mouth; she scrambled to the feet at the same time Dimitri released her awkwardly. She wondered if she was hallucinating, or hadn’t caught him properly, if his face had truly turned red and if the smile he wore was anxious—or, rather, as anxious as she would’ve liked.
“No worries,” he said, his smile cool and calm—yet, tinged with worry. “Like I said.”
“I promise, I won’t fumble like this on our tour,” she said—even to her, her voice wasn’t as neat as she’d like. “I’ll make it sound so much like your home you’ll want to come back.”
He let out something between a hearty laugh and a nervous chuckle. “That’s… good. I’ll look forward to that. Then—” was all she could hear—and all she could see was the amiable smile and nod of the head from Dimitri, before he placed his Airpod back in and turned his attention away.
The rest of the journey might as well have felt like pushing bamboo shoots under her nails. She hadn’t needed to make small talk with someone like him in aeons; it was like speaking a different, long-forgotten language. Made all the more agonizing when all she could arise from Dimitri were nothing more than short, sometimes monosyllabic answers, more than a few staccato flickers of his eyes to her before they returned to his phone.
On the one hand, this abyss was about as cold and strange and unfamiliar as space itself, like she’d been transported lightyears away from her home on Earth. But on the other hand, she knew she wasn’t a quitter. She’d make the most of this day as much as she could—every hour, minute, second.
And yet.
And yet, all she could really see was the chasm between them, widen, and widen, and widen. And no matter how much she offered her hand out to him, he would not reach out to grasp it.
The cathedral was always the biggest highlight of the tour—and thus, always best saved for last. No painting or rainbow in the world could compare to the kaleidoscopic light filtering through the stained glass from the ceiling. Stone statues of the Saints of Seiros stood robust and strong, reverent and solemn over every last visitor. Every last detail from the diamond shape of the floors, the patterns indenting every pillar and wall, artifacts deemed good enough to display—all kept completely pristine condition.
Tourists were always left in awe of its divine beauty. Imagine if they’d been here thousands of years ago.
Normally, dismissing her tour would be about as uneventful as the cerulean hue of the evening sky, about to fade to abyssal black. It would simply be the end of one cycle, left with the anticipation for the next.
But today, her eyes roamed around for Dimitri again.
Most of the day for her had been focused on efforts to conduct the tour properly. And during moments of reprieve, Dimitri would wander around the hallowed halls of the monastery, his striking, azure eyes mesmerized by every detail of the architecture and the artifacts around.
As he probably was now, given that she couldn’t find him in the main crowd. She crossed every finger on her hands, as she nearly sprinted away from the exit back inside, hoping that he hadn’t roamed too far, that the tether hadn’t snapped yet.
With every landmark of Garreg Mach that they’d touched upon on the tour, it was like her hope had slowly faded away. It was the same for every place. The plaza that had been once the training grounds, where Dimitri had examined some of the training lances in his hands. The dining hall, where they’d feasted on Gautier gratin—a meal shared countless times between former house teacher and house leader—and Dimitri had commented that the taste had been nostalgic. The throne room, the war council room, the royal bedroom…
The cathedral, where the Archbishop and King of Fódlan had bonded together in holy, eternal matrimony…
Nothing.
On the one hand, perhaps it was to be expected. A river doesn’t suddenly change its course, after all, by merely suggesting an alternative path—you demand it, as if twisting the hand of Mother Nature herself for a different fate.
But on the other hand… how little it did, to alleviate any of the pai—
The moment that she entered the shrine, her body went completely slack, as if struck by the most punishing bolt of lightning lobbed from heaven.
“DIMITRI!!!””
Her feet could not take her to him fast enough. The blood coursing through her body felt like searing lava imbibed with icy horror, seeing Dimitri’s body lain at the table. Suddenly she couldn’t even remember why she was here, or process what she was looking at—besides this ugly, extinguishing of the light in her heart.
There was no mistaking it. Even under his cape—his cape, marked with black and white fur over blue silk—she could see his long, raggedy, platinum blond hair, his handsome face rippled with wrinkles, even still wearing his eyepatch.
“Beloved…” his voice croaked out softly—his azure eye directed towards her like she was the light of heaven waiting for him. “Please, don’t be sad…”
“Dimitri… no, please, don’t—don’t go…” Her body was trembling, all with the sudden weight of grief that had been dropped onto her. The tears hadn’t even risen to the brim of her eyes before they rolled down her cheeks.
“I won’t.” He was still smiling. As he always did, even when he was about to leave her again. “Remember what was promised? What fate had ordained for us?”
Right. How could she ever? All those years ago, hearing a voice from Sothis before they were married. As Goddess of the world—so if she loved someone else with all of her still, adoration-filled heart—fate had but tied her to her lover for all of eternity. “Even Death Shan’t Do Us Part”, was what their wedding vows had been rewritten into.
Even with one deal-breaking condition—that Dimitri not be told of such a vow, until he asked for her ring—such a divine vow would otherwise remain as steadfast as the sunrise.
But every time would be the same. Time had not alleviated the grief that came entailed with every tail end of this ruthless cycle of life she was not privy to. If anything, seeing him today only made this particular instance that much more raw, made the pain that much more earth-splitting.
“I can’t do this again, Dimitri, please…”
“I’ll find you again. I promise… with all of my life.”
She shook her head. Why? Why was this happening again? “I… I love you, Dima…”
“I love you too, beloved. Just—don’t forget me, okay?” With every word, his chest started to deflate and inflate even less visibly, until his breath was but lost in the breeze, and his eye started to shut close for the last time.
“Dimitri, please… p-please just—stay! Stay a while more…”
“Byleth?”
Her eyes jolted straight open when she heard the trodding of footsteps. The shock was sufficient for her to get to her feet again, to rebuild her cornerstone of trained stoicism and amiability once more. But when she blinked away the tears, her eyes were met with Dimitri’s cape and Areadbhar—and a small, ornate urn—still kept in the same glass case as always.
Right. She wasn’t even near the case, the centerpiece of the Shrine of the Savior King. In the fluorescent lights above—replacing the candles from yesteryears—she could see Dimitri Blagonravov, walking right up to her, looking as if he knew none the wiser.
“There you are, Byleth. I—were you talking to me?”
“Oh! Dimitri.” She tried to stand up a little straighter, refraining from wiping the remnant moisture from her eyes, praying the setting sun wouldn’t betray her. “I—you’re still here?”
“Yeah, I just thought to explore, and… well…”
Her line of sight followed his own as he turned his head upward, gaze directed at the portrait hanging right above the shrine.
“This is…”
Of course, she’d commissioned this painting ages ago, from one of the most famed artists in the world, who hailed from Leicester. A painting that she’d worked with the best artists of the times to restore and keep in absolute tip-top condition. And that of course…
“This is Dimitri and Byleth Blaiddyd, yes,” Byleth managed softly.
Indeed this should be one of the biggest hints of which to jostle something in Dimitri’s memory. Even transcending beyond the planetary alignment level of coincidence of their names being the same. Even transcending beyond the striking similarity in their appearances, despite the passage of time—after all, Byleth (and Dimitri) had been adamant about the portrait being as accurate, as intimate, as passionate as the crafts of man could possibly depict them.
A million thoughts raced in her head, when she took a quick yet long glance at Dimitri, trying to decipher the million thoughts that must be racing through his own head. How much of his likeness did he even see in this Dimitri, gazing into the eyes of his past beloved, his loving, blissful smile a fraction of an inch away from her own just as loving, just as blissful smile? Would he feel the same tingle in his fingers, when he saw this painted man’s own intertwined with his beloved’s, their rings twinkling in the moonlight?
He turned to her, with a look on his face that she could only describe to be appreciative—right on the surface, sympathetic, never delving into the true depth of emotion that she desired.
“This was the Savior King and the Archbishop that brought peace to all of Fódlan, yes?”
It took every bone in her body to keep herself from collapsing into rubble, to keep the disappointment and heartbreak intertwined from leaking. “Yes. And this is where… where the king was laid to rest.”
“I’m sure they were like soulmates, were they not? I mean—I know, from all the letters and gifts discovered that they exchanged between each other, but—this. This portrait makes them look almost… almost desperately in love.”
“I’m sure,” she could only concur quietly, dipping her head back down.
… how? How could he not remember one bit?…
It took everything to repress the unholy dismay right within the mortal vessel of her body.
“Thank you, Byleth,” Dimitri said. “This was a wonderful tour—and you were the best tour guide I could’ve asked for. I mean it.”
Somehow Byleth found it difficult to match the sincere look in his eyes, and to keep up this facade. Her thumb found itself fiddling with her rings, the same way a gambler might fiddle with her betting chips. “You’re going back after this?”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“…are you sure you don’t want to stay?”
His smile faltered, turning his attention away from the painting. “I… I’m afraid not. Besides, it is getting late and it’s been a long day.”
She could see that last opening for opportunity, steadily and rapidly closing, left with little choice but to watch and let the glimmer of light she’d found extinguish. It was hard to disguise such an emotion from breaking into the surface, like a bad outbreak of acne.
On the one hand, she should be winning him back, shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t she be making more of an effort to court him? But on the other hand, it was clear to her that he wasn’t interested. And who was she, to weasel her way into his life?
He looked whole. Whole without her, but whole.
She croaked out a heavy, wistful sigh.
Another blunder. Dimitri’s attention whipped towards her once more. “Byleth, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
If the auburn light filtering through the windows would betray her, they’d shine on the fragments of Byleth’s expression that she was unable to hold together.
“Nothing,” she said, wholly unconvincing.
“Hey now, hey now…”
Before she knew it, and before she could even try to rebut him, Dimitri gravitated towards her, until he was face-to-face with her.
She swore that, just taking one look at him, that time had frozen if but for a small moment.
“You can tell me. I won’t judge at all.”
This was the closest she’d seen this particular Dimitri get to her. If she could, she’d wanted to have simply laid right here, looking into his eyes forever, looking at his warm, kindling fire of a reassuring smile. This happiness, even now, never failed to be contagious—a conspicuous reminder that the love for her transcended even the mortal boundaries of time and space.
But perhaps it’s a longing too transparent: he let out a nervous chuckle, tinged with a slight panic. “I mean—if not, that’s fine, but—I hope—you can trust me. As a friend?”
She wondered if she could see a light blush across his face, the longer that he stared into her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw his hand reach up—and she’s seen this before, in too many lifetimes. The way he might want to cradle her chin. Or the way he might want to cup her cheek, pull her closer to him and close the distance.
And yet, it always felt like one step too far. As if a cruel reminder that this Dimitri was one that she would never live the lifetime she wanted to live with.
“... if we’re friends then—why?” she blurted out in a whisper, as if inviting him to deny her again. “Can’t you just… one more day?”
“I really can’t.” He shook his head in visible reluctance—and perhaps the reluctance is like a prying force against the chasm of her heart. “I’m so, so sorry, Byleth.”
“I… I understand.” The darkest lie from the bottom of her heart, wrapped in bewilderment, stillness, denial. Just to even recount his words was agony:
“Byleth”.
“As a friend”...
“But, perhaps to make it up to you…” Dimitri continued. “Perhaps: is there something I could do, while I am here? Anything to make you happy?”
She wished that she could pull him—nay, yank him back, back to her side. Remind him of the fate that they’d been promised. Beg him, on her knees, for him not to spend this lifetime without her.
But of course, she couldn’t. Even the Goddess couldn’t stop the sun from setting in the night, the sky from fading to black when the dusk came.
Maybe a little longer, she told herself. She could frame this as a desire for distraction, or even a hopelessly hopeful purchase for time—all to deceive herself from the underlying truth of her selfish avarice.
“Well… there is a secret place in the monastery that no one knows. And… I probably shouldn’t be showing it to visitors but. Would you care to join me to take a gander, at the very least?”
There’d been barely a pause before Dimitri grinned at her, chest puffing out slightly with determination.
“Well. When you phrase it like that, how could I not oblige?”
Maybe this was breaking a little bit too sacred a rule. Maybe she was becoming a little bit too desperate here.
But maybe she loved him too much to let him go, as she did when she took his wrist, and quickly sprinted with him, like secret lovers eloping through the night.
Her head couldn’t help but take a fleeting, enduring look at the painting behind her, and she hoped that the clatter of her footsteps shielded the whimpering cry that escaped her throat.
The occasions that Byleth ever trod the staircase up to the Goddess Tower came far and few between. Even now, as she led Dimitri to the very zenith, the moon itself seemed tinted cerulean, an illumination that seemed to stain the rest of the perfect, pitch-black dark sky.
Of course, as the vessel of the Goddess, there was always a duty to keep this space as sanctimonious and as reverent as possible. Which is why such occasions were reserved solely as a sanctum for her and Dimitri, like when they were reaffirming their vows, reaffirming their fates, reaffirming their love and undying dedication to each other.
Today it felt more like a reaffirmation of the exact opposite, however. Like maybe more akin to a last gasp of desperation.
Like all other Dimitris before him, this one stepped up to the top with eyes wide and deep in wonder, as if involuntarily in reverence of this hallowed, most holy of all places.
“This place… what a lovely view, is it not?”
“Yes.” What she meant to say was that no expanse of celestial treasures, nor the most spellbinding of supernovas could compare to the love that she has for him. That he’d had for her.
“Real quiet too.”
…
…
Byleth took in a deep breath—fresh air from the night sky, a malleable black, blank canvas. Perhaps it would be best to yank the arrow out of her chest now, not to delay the agony.
“Have you heard about the legend of the Goddess Tower?” she murmured. “And some of the rumours of what happened here?”
“I believe I’ve scarcely heard it, yes. They say that lovers used to sneak up to this very tower, and that their wishes made here will come true.”
“That’s correct, yes.”
Bringing up all those memories was a gamble in and of itself, and she was beginning to pay the price of it now—especially when said memories extended out to down in the cathedral below. How she could remember reuniting with him in the midst of the war, piecing their hearts together back anew. How she could remember the zenith of bliss that had been their wedding, how she’d cried and he’d cried harder. How she could remember stolen, chaste kisses right at the statues of the saints during his reign.
But sometimes when you take a risk, you keep taking further risks, as if the crippling loss of losing one wager could not possibly be worse than the next.
Dimitri simply stayed silent, shuffling his feet against the terracotta beneath him—and she hated it. She might’ve preferred an outright rejection. At least a rejection was honest and direct. This just kept her suffocating, drowning in the ocean of loss and misery.
“You mentioned some other rumours,” Dimitri finally managed, his voice paring away the symphony of crickets whispering between them. “I believe I scarcely heard one of the other tour group folks mention lovers… having escapades here.”
Byleth had to unclog her throat to mutter the words hoarsely, “That would be correct. Lots of folks back in the day had their trysts here, thinking this place was good luck.” As Dimitri had once mused to her—it was like being in the witness of the Goddess herself, their matrimony was somehow more sacrosanct, more enshrined into fate.
Instead of just a marriage she could only replay in her head—an empty one at that.
“So even the previous King and Queen of Fódlan…”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Yes, even them. I’ve heard rumours even after their marriage, whenever they visited the monastery, they’d sneak up and enjoy nothing but the stars, the fresh air of the night, and each other’s company. But… I’ve also heard that this place was even more special than that.”
“Oh?”
“Even before they were lovers, the King had brought the Queen up here during Garreg Mach Establishment day—or, Christmas, as we now call it. And every… Christmas, they would continue to wish for the same thing. For peace, good health, and everlasting love for all. Including their own bond, forged in eternity.”
She couldn’t help but be swept up in the memories, of every Dimitri she’d graced these hallowed halls and heights with, every Dimitri that she’d take up here with her heart full of love. Every sweet nothing they’d exchange, every warm embrace, every soft kiss: they all coalesced into a continuous cascade of sweet manna and honey.
But instead, now faced with this love alone, all she could feel was the crumbling of everything good they’d had, a torrential downpour of arrows and knives on her soul.
“I… I suppose they are even more revered than I thought they would be here,” he stated with an appreciative, meditative nod. “It’s truly marvelous, hearing about their love.”
Perhaps that should’ve been the cue for her to give up. Perhaps she’d find him again, when he’d been given another chance of life. But she couldn’t even fathom just the mere thought of another lifetime without him. To let him slip through her fingers was akin to taking every last piece of her apart, letting her and her blood flow down the river of time.
She needed him.
She needed him.
“Hey, um. Byleth, listen—well. Because you were so honest to me, about how difficult it was to part, I was thinking…”
Byleth watched as he pulled out his phone the moment he said those words. “...do you have a number? That I could contact you with?”
A number? She almost never used her phone to call anyone. Surely not even to receive calls from anyone else either—not even scam calls. What a lifetime that this Dimitri had appeared under, for communication to have advanced so quickly.
“I-... yes, well—”
Things seemed to transpire right in front of Byleth without her volition. She hadn’t an idea when her glorified pocket map, as she’d perceived it, had magically appeared into her hand, nor when Dimitri had taken it from her.
But the moment that she’d felt him instinctively taking her hands in his own, suddenly things came to a screeching halt.
Dimitri froze the same moment she did. The air between them ran still, as if the wind had parted between them. His bare fingers remained in contact with her palms, motionless. His azure eyes locked with hers, and even in the pathetic light emanating from the stars above, the look he gave was stark. Electric, pinning her right where she stood. It was as if he’d seen her in an entirely new light.
Byleth could swear her unmoving heart stuttered in her chest.
For a moment she forgot how to breathe. More so than ever at any moment this day, she could see that magic in his eyes. As if he’d envisioned the invisible tether of soulbound fate towards her, finally the thick blanket of ignorance had dissipated.
Finally. Finally…
And suddenly, Dimitri’s fingers curled inwards, hands taking her phone before retracting away.
“J-just give me a m-moment here…”
As Dimitri worked away on her phone at lightning speed, Byleth still couldn’t help but remain motionless. Instead of feeling like she’d been lifted into the air heavenward, suddenly it felt like she was plummeting to the ground, where all she could do was feel herself immerse herself back into the cold-hearted abyss of reality.
Of course. Of course not. What an asinine thing to hope for. How utterly foolish of her…
Somehow, time went on too soon and too long at the same time. And soon enough, Dimitri handed her phone back to her, this time his eyes refusing to meet with hers.
“H-here,” his low voice uttered, holding it out by his fingertips, making it impossible for her to make contact with him again when she took her phone back.
Byleth found herself acting like a zombie once again. “T-thanks.”
Dimitri could only smile back so convincingly, hollow as a bubble. She was sure that even he could see it. Even he could see, now more than ever, how this chasm was but too vast to cross. That they were planets, galaxies, universes apart—at least in this lifetime.
Who knew, either? Who knew how many more lifetimes she would have to harbour this loss, wade through this vast space of loneliness for? A century? A millennium? An eternity? Either way…
“I—I guess this is it,” Byleth muttered, trying to keep a straight face. And how strange that, for the first time in a long, long time, such a try was proving to be so utterly futile. “Guess this is goodbye…”
The colour drained from Dimitri’s face. “I… Byleth…”
“Thank you for being part of the tour, Dimitri.” Her voice was almost too quiet for herself to hear. “I… I have to get back home for something. Take care, okay?”
It was what had to be done, in her head. No point in letting herself bleed out or let the arrow in her chest fester—it’d have to be ripped out somehow.
She took one last look at this Dimitri. This Dimitri with his stupid ponytail, with his stupid two azure eyes in his stupid faux-fur scarf around his neck. This Dimitri that she knew with all of her heart, and yet had no clue who she was—
“Goodbye, Dimitri.”
Either way, her vessel of a body, her jar—what could it do, but shatter under all that weight of grief and loss?
She turned away from him, and ran.
“Byleth!!”
She hadn’t felt like this in a long time—every single death of every Dimitri, entailing the pain of ripping her heart from her chest, had always come with the renewed, corroborated hope that she’d meet him again. A hope that now had been dashed, vanished into thin air in the span of one day.
One, singular, miserable day out of thousands of years… one day was all it took, it seemed. For her heart to surrender and break apart like a dislodged clump of sand down a river. For her to realize that, perhaps, her days spent wallowing in eternity might not have Dimitri in it.
Her footsteps were as erratic as they were swift. She’d barely reached the staircase, ready to begin her descent, when she heard an unfamiliar sound.
She stopped in her tracks. This was the first time she’d even heard her own ringtone—its shrill, default tone rang so sharply from her pocket that she couldn’t help but take it out, and answer it.
She couldn’t even look at her screen or say a word. Even holding the phone in her hand, where the rings on her finger felt heavier than ever, was nearly too arduous. All she could do was stand there, trying to hold up the petite frame of herself from collapsing.
“Byleth?”
Of course she should have guessed that Dimitri’s voice would be the voice she heard on the other side. But even when she turned around, where he stood, she couldn’t help but feel a boiling anger. An irrational anger, but a petulant one all the same.
Why? Why would he want her to stay and be reminded of the life that she’s lost for a lifetime? Why is he punishing her too??
She wanted to say something. Say anything. Her heart tried to send every last arrow of indignation—as undeserving as they’d be directed to this Dimitri—to her mouth, but her mind just could not lob them. Try as she might, her gaze could not avert away from him either.
“Byleth,” he whispered, his voice amplified in the phone speaker. “Check your phone.”
This, again, entailed no logic on its own either. What could it show that would possibly be so important? Besides, she could barely even see the tile pattern directly beneath her, let alone his face from afar—-how could she even read what’s on her phone?
And yet, she found herself wiping away the tears welling at the brink of her eyes, a Sisyphean feat when she found more tears replacing where they’d been wiped off. She found herself having to gather the eroded pieces of her that had been swept by the current, back to some half-formed version of herself once again.
She blinked away as many tears as she could. She took a look at her phone.
Beloved
0:49
She blinked again. Even this hallucination wouldn’t leave her, would it?
Beloved
0:51
She blinked again, and her breath came to a straight stop.
Beloved
0:53
She took a look up towards Dimitri, as he walked towards her. Stupid as her legs were, that they remained rooted to the floor. Stupid as her mouth was, that it couldn’t utter a single word, even until Dimitri took his place a foot in front of her. Stupid as her eyes were, that they would not avert away from his own.
But this time, she could finally see it.
Byleth’s hand trembled so hard that her phone simply clattered to the floor. She knew that look anywhere—she could pick it out, straight from an ocean of faces. There was not a single incarnation of Dimitri that never ever looked at her that way. Like she was a lost treasure finally found. Like she was the Goddess that would forever satiate the hunger of a lost soul. Like she was, and is, and forever will be, the soulmate that Dimitri would want to find, even in this vast planet of theirs, no matter how many continents or oceans apart they were.
He extended his hand towards her—glove now stripped off, bare and plain for her to see.
“Beloved,” he finally spoke, taking his hand in hers: smooth as marble, free of the callouses and scars of war, yet just as warm and alluring as ever.
This time, finally, she could see it in his eyes. It transcended magic, or whatever instinctual connection that she’d only found traces in beforehand. It was a warm, incandescent, lustrous glow in his azure irises once more. It was his smile, reaching all the way to his eyes, where it was almost like she could see the intangible of euphoria, illuminating from his face.
It was love.
“Beloved. Do you still remember me?”
Just like that, she lunged forward, taking him into her arms once more, and bawled straight into his shoulder.
Suddenly it was like being swallowed by a rapturous, flooding light. All that emotion that had welled up within her the moment she’d first seen him, it now finally burst forth, in a private, coruscating supernova right atop this hallowed tower. She breathed him in like oxygen after drowning in an ocean that had tried to swallow her—taking in his scent, the chamomile notes still as familiar as ever. She held him like a life buoy—tight in her embrace, as if never wanting to let go ever again.
“Dimitri…” she could only choke out between violent sobs, her hands clutching the fabric of his winter coat closer to her—a curse to these coats, that she couldn’t feel all of his warmth. “Oh Dimitri…”
“No, please, my beloved…” she heard him assure her, feeling his strong hand rub lovingly against her back. “Please don’t cry…”
And yet, her tears flowed forth like rivers pushing past dams—-weeping right in his arms, where she was safe and sound, where he’d catch her when she was falling without fail. “Dimitri… I thought—I thought you—”
“You thought I’d forgotten about you? Of course not. Listen—listen to my voice, beloved…”
Where had this been? Where had this been through the whole day, when she’d been thirsting for the fresh water of his voice, of his embrace, for the whole tour?? She smacked him on his back weakly, despite his blamelessness. Yes, this was real, unlike what happened at the shrine. Dimitri was real. Real, real, real love.
“Don’t do that again.” She meant to warn him—as serious as a death threat—but instead her voice came out weak like an injured dog’s. “Don’t… don’t scare me like that Dima…”
“Of course I won’t. I’m sorry.” Oh how much more sweet and heavenly his voice sounded like now, like gentle hands piecing her heart, torn by the seams, back together. “I’m sorry, my love—-I won’t leave again.”
She sniffled as she looked back up at him, wiping away her tears. Even now, with how his looks were so divergent from the rest of the reincarnations, it was just unmistakable what united them—him—all. A love so warm and engrossing and eternal, she’d notice it like a flicker of light in the vast blackness of the universe.
At some point her heart couldn’t help but leap across the closing chasm between them, meeting him in the middle. She craned her neck forward, their lips crashing together like a cosmic collision of stars. True enough, his lips welcomed hers home, his hands cradling her even more preciously. As if every desperate movement and loving kiss was but the perpetual flow of perfume, out of her alabaster jar for him, evaporating every last trace of rotten sorrow in her heart.
“Promise me,” she whispered, once they pulled away—a spool of saliva thread bridging them together, as if fate reaffirming their bond. And, finally, as tradition—finally, she reached her hand towards him, her and his own wedding rings glinting in the twilight. “Promise me then.”
“Beloved,” he said, a wry smile running across his features now. Finally, like a rehearsal committed to heart, he adorned his ring, where it belonged on his ring finger—and right after, hers on her own ring finger. And just like he’s said, from every lifetime before:
“I promise with all of my heart: I will never leave you, that we will be together for all eternity. That is the vow we’ve made… that is the vow I intend to keep. Now… please, don’t cry, my love—okay? I don’t want to see you so sad, on our first reunion like this…”
Looking at him like this, beaming at her with all the radiance of a divine halo, she couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape her lips.
“This isn’t sadness, you stupid… you—Dima…”
She could feel him, press his lips against her cheek, as if to kiss away the tears, one by one, remedying her bit by bit, taking her hand to walk by him once more as they’d always done.
“Byleth Eisner. Goddess of this world and my life. I love you.”
Another overflow of perfume, spilled from every piece of her mended heart:
“I love you too, Dimitri.”
She didn’t know how long she stood there with him in her arms. Frankly she didn’t really care—a part of her wanted to simply stand there, let the world go by, for just as long as it took to recenter her universe around Dimitri. Perhaps if it meant that she could hold him, and let him continue to heal her, and take his scent and his touch in once more—she’d make time stop forever, just to have him like this.
But if in this life, even with this passing time, if she could still have him in this forever?
Then she’d gladly keep waiting for him, until he inevitably came home to her.