Thread by @theuncannyallie, angled slightly down, so his bangs cast a dark shadow over his [...]

angled slightly down, so his bangs cast a dark shadow over his eyes. "And eventually, I know I will need to meet her, as archbishop. Just give me some time."

Dimitri wanted to say something. /Anything./ But his voice betrayed him in staying silent. His throat /hurt/.

Byleth strode past Dimitri, and did not hear the very soft 'wait' that was finally able to make it past Dimitri's lips. He called for Seteth as he opened the doors, eliminating any chance for Dimitri to formulate a proper response.

"I unfortunately have some things I need to-

attend to," Byleth announced. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you desire. Garreg Mach will always be welcome to you, Your Majesty."

Dimitri felt like he was about to be sick, hearing his title rather than his name out of Byleth's mouth. It sounded...wrong.

'Don't call me that. Not you.' Dimitri could not voice the words, and Byleth strode out of the chamber, taking a left so ascend the stairs to the third floor. Once Rhea's quarters, Byleth never truly felt home there, but Seteth insisted that it would be improper for the-

archbishop to stay in a dormitory near the students. It was hard to argue with him.

Dimitri kept staring, only noticing that Seteth had approached him once the priest was standing directly in front of him.

"I apologize there is not more suitable accommodations for you here.

I believe the town may have some inns that would be more comfortable than the dormitories." The new class of students had not arrived yet, so the dorms currently remained unoccupied.

Dimitri shook his head. "I...it is fine, Seteth. Thank you."

Seteth nodded, and told Dimitri to let him know if he needed anything in the meantime.

Dimitri's legs moved automatically. He barely registered where he was going, instead just focusing on the sad picture of Byleth that would be permanently etched into his mind.

His fingers dug into his palms. There would be bruises on them later, no doubt. What was he doing? What /should/ he be doing? His heart ached terribly, screaming at him to turn around and run back to his beloved professor. To embrace him and kiss his lips and swear to never-

leave his side or betray his trust and love. But his mind continued to repeat words like 'duty' and 'queen' and 'heir.' And when Dimitri looked up from his feet, he saw the ghost of his father, looking at him with disapproval in his eyes. Dimitri was afraid of asking if he was-

disappointed that Dimitri was walking away from the Professor, or if he was disappointed Dimitri even thought of walking back to him.

He shook his head, his attention turning to the floor in a desperate attempt to ignore the ghost. No. Not now...

When he stopped again, he realized he stood before the doors to the training grounds. It was no wonder his body immediately took him here...it was always where he ended up when nightmares kept him from sleep while he was a student. When the voices of the dead begged him to get-

stronger, so he could properly avenge them, since he was taking too long, and they continued to suffer.

He passed through the doors.

Having no one around during the day felt odd, but Dimitri was no stranger to training alone. He walked over to the training weapons, and-

automatically reached for a lance. But...he gripped it too tightly, and it splintered and crumbled in his hand. His shoulders slumped...even after all these years, controlling his strength was something that evaded him, especially when his mind was troubled.

He dropped the broken lance and reached for another, this time concentrating on keeping his grip loose. It was so...light. He had long since gotten so used to the weight of Areadbhar that this felt like he was lifting nothing but air.

He looked over at one of the training-

dummies, and after a pause, threw the lance in its direction; he felt his crest activate as his arm moved and released the weapon. When it made impact, both it and the dummy practically shattered, falling to the floor in a mess of broken pieces.

He stared at it.

'Coward.' His voice said again. 'Selfish.' 'Monster.'

The words repeated. Over and over again, like a self-destructive mantra hellbent on eating him from the inside out.

He did not realize he picked up another lance and threw it at the next dummy.

Or the third. Or the fourth. The only reason he stopped after the fifth lance thrown was because when he reached for the sixth, he found none. The ones he had released were strewn across the ground in broken pieces.

"Your Majesty?"

Dimitri's head snapped up quickly, his eyes wilder than they should have been. But they softened as soon as he realized who had spoken.

"Ah, Dedue. I...apologize for the mess." He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed and ashamed and how his emotions still-

resulted in so much...destruction. Flayn stepped out from behind Dedue, and after a moment, she let out a small laugh. "My brother is not going to be happy with this mess."

Dimitri's flush deepened. "I...I will be sure to replace all of this equipment and more."

She shook her head. "I believe the archbishop would refuse. I think he would feel guilty taking anything from you."

Dimitri stiffened. "He shouldn't..."

"Even though you are king now, you'll always be his favorite student. He probably will find it improper, though I can see-

my brother getting quite upset with him about it." She chuckled, and the image of a frustrated Seteth dealing with an impassive Byleth came to mind.

"I'm not his..."

Dimitri remembered during his academy days, when people would tease him about being the 'Professor's favorite.'

He recalled a time with Claude - there was a joint training session with the Golden Deer, and Byleth was teaching swordsmanship. Byleth's specialty, but not Dimitri's by any means. However, Dimitri was still the one Byleth called to help him demonstrate things.

Apparently it was interesting that he would call Dimitri, and not, say, Felix, which Claude expressed as soon as Dimitri was dismissed so Byleth could work with others one-on-one.

"You really are Teach's favorite, aren't you, Your Princeliness? I'm kinda jealous."

Dimitri had turned away, though he vividly remembered how warm his cheeks grew. "I'm not his favorite, Claude. It is just my duty as leader of the Blue Lions to help him."

Claude just laughed "Whatever you say."

Dimitri probably should write a letter to Claude.

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