Chapter Text
The empty room echoed with the light taps of Byleth's shoes. There was no music, nor an audience to watch her. It was just her, practicing an old jig in her soft shoes, twisting above the wooden floor of the practice room.
Byleth kept her body straight as her feet guided her through the dance. It was a jig she hadn't gone back to since her Prizewinner days, when she still competed, but even without the melody to accompany her, she jumped and traveled across the room with light steps. Just as her father had taught her so many years ago.
She didn't know why she was dancing this jig. She had a performance to choreograph, dancers to contact, and a teaching schedule to go over, but something had drawn her to the practice room. It had guided her to slip on her knee-length white socks, tie up her black soft shoes, and slip into the familiar steps of the dance, jumping and traveling the space of the whole room in just a few steps.
My father loved watching this jig, Byleth thought to herself as did a high leap into the air. He said it made me look beautiful. No one's told me that since—
Byleth's steps faltered. The pressure on her toes suddenly felt very sharp, and the heels of her feet lowered themselves to the floor.
Since Dimitri.
Byleth exhaled through her nose and looked up at her reflection in the mirror that covered an entire wall of the practice room. Her light green hair was loose around her shoulders, slightly messy and more than a little unbrushed. Her black leotard and wraparound skirt fit well, accentuating her toned waist. Byleth considered herself fit, but not slim.
Other teachers at the Academy had told her she was strong and graceful when dancing, but Byleth knew that they were exaggerating. Catherine was the strongest of all the instructors, able to make the highest leaps and last through the longest of weekend seminars. Shamir was the graceful one, able to do double trebles and fast back clicks with frighteningly sharp precision. The couple was gifted in Irish Dancing, and although Byleth was honored to be teaching at the same academy, she never managed to find her own niche. Her own specialty when dancing and teaching. Byleth could admit that she was good, but she wasn't unique.
"Your technique is stunning, Professor!" Dimitri said. "You may have never starred in one of the Company's productions, but I think they're overlooking you. The way you travel around the room… It is nothing short of beautiful."
Byleth closed her eyes at the memory. It had been so long since she'd heard his voice, but even so, remembering the words made her smile.
Byleth took in a deep breath and collected herself. It would do her no good to follow the dark thoughts creeping at the edge of her mind, so she walked over to the warm-up bars at the back of the room. After a few stretches, she undid her laces and started changing into more appropriate streetwear, because even though the Garreg Mach Company was fairly well-known in Fódlan, that didn't exactly give its dancers a pass to walk down the streets in just their leotards. But if she was being honest with herself, Byleth didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Clothes were clothes, weren't they? But as a professor at the academy and the choreographer for the Company's professional performances, she had a reputation to maintain, which is why she got a long coat she could just throw over her sweat-soaked leotard until she could get home and take a well-deserved shower.
Byleth had just finished zipping up her coat and her boots when the phone buzzed from inside her bag. It was the generic ringtone that had already been programmed in, and she hadn't really seen the point in changing it. Byleth fished the phone out of her bag, read the Caller ID, and sighed.
"Hey, friend," Yuri said the moment Byleth accepted the call. "Now a bad time?"
"When you call me, it's usually a bad time." Byleth put the phone on speaker and carefully balanced it on one of the warm-up bars. As she resisted the urge to sigh, she grabbed her bag, making sure it had all the paperwork and notes she'd have to fill in later that night. "What is it now? Does Bernadetta need more cloth for her prototypes?"
"They've found Rufus Blaiddyd's murderer."
Byleth's heart stopped beating. "We've known who that was for years," she said in a carefully neutral tone.
"Yeah, and now the police know it, too." Yuri sounded normal, but for Yuri, normal could mean a lot of things. It could mean that he was trying to convince her to look over extra documents, or it could mean that he was softening her up before delivering harsh news about the year's budget. But it could also mean that he was being plainly honest.
"If you're lying…" Byleth warned in a low voice.
"Now why would I do that?" Yuri's light voice said over the speaker. "My friend in the police confirmed it. They have the evidence now, so the prince isn't a suspect anymore."
Byleth's bag dropped to the floor.
"His arrest warrant's been revoked," Yuri continued. "He can come back now. Well, that's if he even knows he's no longer a wanted man. The police still can't find him, and neither can my connections in the underground. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, now do you?"
"You know I don't," Byleth said, yanking her bag off the floor. She grabbed her phone, fished out her car keys, and started sprinting towards the academy's parking lot. "But I know the person who does."
Two Years Ago
"Thank you for the pointers, Professor," Dimitri said with a tired smile. There were drops of sweat beading his forehead and his hair was disheveled. But for Dimitri, whose hair never seemed to cooperate with him, it was the usual look. "I knew something was wrong with my form, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was."
Byleth nodded slightly and passed him his towel. "It was a minor thing. Now you know to keep your foot looser on the rallies." Her voice echoed slightly in the large practice room. The academy's building had been repurposed from an old cathedral-like monastery, which made it all the more fun to hear the clack-clack-clack of dancing shoes echo through its halls. This particular practice room, with its light wooden floors, brick walls, and ceiling-high arched windows, was by far Byleth's favorite.
"Very true." Dimitri accepted the towel and wiped his face. His blond hair fell around his forehead in loose, messy strands that he had trouble taming, even when he wasn't dancing. "Your ability to identify my problem is remarkable. I see why they hired you as a professor despite only being a couple years older than I."
"I think I was more surprised than anyone." And it was true. Byleth had long given up dancing competitively when she'd been scouted by Rhea, the academy's former director, to teach at Garreg Mach. So at just twenty years old, Byleth traded her Prizewinner dress for a leotard with the logo of Garreg Mach Dancing Company stitched into its black straps. She'd taught beginner, novice, and even Prizewinner classes.
She'd met Dimitri in one of the Prizewinner seminars, when he was eighteen and just barely starting university, and Byleth could see his passion for the sport. Even when finals week was fast approaching or extra meetings were happening at his family's company, Dimitri never missed a class, nor a competition, nor any rehearsal for upcoming performances. It was the main reason why Byleth and the other professors had offered Dimitri a permanent place within the academy's Company. What impressed Byleth even more was that he said yes, but that he had to wait until he could also claim his position as heir to the company his late father left him, as he could not accept one responsibility while ignoring the other.
"Humble as always," Dimitri mused. He lowered the towel and looked over Byleth until his deep blue eyes met hers. "Professor, forgive me for being so blunt, but are you alright? You seem more… subdued since the last time we saw each other."
Byleth looked away and sat down on the floor. "That's what most people say," she said as she started undoing the laces on her hard shoes. The heavy heels clanked against the wooden floor, and Byleth counted herself lucky that she didn't always have to wear them. At least the ladies also had soft shoes, free of dense tips and heels. Men typically wore hard shoes by default.
"Most people don't pay as much attention as they should." Dimitri said, sitting down beside her. He undid the laces of his own shoes, their hard soles worn by the force Dimitri put on them. He was one of the strongest dancers at the academy, and one could easily tell by how often he had to replace his shoes. "You know I am always open to lend an ear."
Byleth smiled. She found that it was easier to do that when she was with Dimitri. "You've been doing that for months now."
"And if it is necessary, I will continue doing so for many months to come." Dimitri's fingers fiddled with the laces of his shoe, but quickly stopped. He had a habit of fraying even the strongest of laces when rubbing them for too long, and it was one of the oddest things Byleth had had to replace for him over the three years they'd known each other. "I… Understand the pain of losing a father. Even when the world starts regaining normality, everything feels more… hollow."
"Like a void." Byleth was surprised to have answered so quickly. She hadn't even thought about it like that. Not until Dimitri had put it into words. And it was true. It was as if there was a hole in her heart—something that was once filled with moments she'd spend with her father. Her father, who was killed after rescuing a group of people who were trapped in a burning apartment. Something went wrong with his equipment. He died of smoke inhalation.
Byleth knew that she should be proud of him. She knew that because she was the one who'd been with him when he took his last breath. Jeralt Eisner was a firefighter devoted to saving lives, and even though he had died doing just that, there was a part of Byleth who couldn't help but ache at the mention of his name. Even when she felt like she should be doing everything she could to remember him. She tried, but when she did… she felt empty.
"It hasn't gone away, has it?" Dimitri asked, to which Byleth nodded. "Mine hasn't, either. It's gotten more manageable, but I cannot find a way to fill it permanently. To be honest, I doubt I ever will."
Byleth pulled off her hard shoes and placed them to one side. Now that she had nothing to fiddle with, she pulled her knees up and loosely wrapped her arms around them. "So what do you do?"
Dimitri looked off into the distance for a moment before turning back to Byleth. "I fill my life with other things. After my father died, the void grew the more I did nothing. The more I allowed myself to hate the world for taking him from me. But then I met Dedue, and he reminded me that it is possible to live with death. He reminded me that I still had my friends. I remembered my duty to the Company, and I remembered my love for dance. I am grateful for that. Without it all, I never would have met you!"
Byleth's eyes widened.
"Ah, pardon me. I got carried away." Dimitri rubbed the back of his head as his cheeks started to turn red. He moved to stand, but Byleth waved for him to stop.
"There's no need," she said. And if she was being honest, her tone sounded… a little happy. No, amused. Was that the right word for it?
"I understand what you meant." Byletyh felt herself smile. "Thank you, Dimitri."
"For what?" Dimitri asked, and he looked puzzled. On him, the expression looked somewhat cute.
"After my father's death, you found me at his grave." Byleth still remembered that day as if it were yesterday. She'd been standing in that cemetery for hours, staring at her father's shining tombstone. She didn't know exactly how long she'd been there when Dimitri walked up beside her. He said that he'd been visiting his own father's grave, and he asked if he could stay with her for a while. Byleth didn't mind. And Dimitri didn't mind her silence as he spoke the words that roused her from the dream-like state she'd been in since her father's death. "You told me to take my time, and that when I was ready, I could come meet you again at Garreg Mach."
Dimitri bowed his head. "I hope I wasn't being too forward."
"You weren't. I needed it. Like you said, it's possible to live with death. Being here helps me. Teaching the students, new and old; fixing all the issues Yuri finds on the management side; creating these dances for you all; and… everything. It all helps, and you were the one who brought me back to it."
A light blush crawled up Dimitri's cheeks. "Then, forgive me for being forward, but I hope you do stay here. For many years to come."
And Byleth's heart did something it hardly ever did. It beat. Hard. It was like her entire chest had come alive, thumping in tune to the rapid beating of her heart. It was so loud it pounded in her ears. Was it fear? Excitement? Something else? Byleth didn't know, but at that moment, she didn't really care. What she did care about was that she was there, in the old practice room, with Dimitri by her side, and something inside her telling her that that was a very good thing.
Byleth licked her lips. "Di—"
"Dimitri!"
Byleth's head shot up. Dedue ran into the practice room, eyes wide and panting. He was Duscurian, with russet-brown skin, light green eyes, and a large frame. Despite his size, he was an incredibly talented dancer, and he was one of the students Byleth wanted to bring in as a member of the Garreg Mach Company. He was also one of Dimitri's closest friends. "Dimitri, we must go now."
"What is it?" Dimitri asked as he and Byleth pushed themselves off the floor.
"Your uncle's been murdered," Dedue said in a fast and serious voice. "They found his body this morning."
Byleth gasped. She immediately looked over at Dimitri, and she saw how he had pressed his hands into tightly curled fists.
"How did he die?" Dimitri asked.
"I've heard only rumors, but all say it was poison."
A strangled cry flew from Dimitri's lips.
"That rat, Cornelia!" He screamed. Dimitri's voice echoed around the practice room, and by the way his shoulders were shaking, Byleth could tell that he was barely holding himself back from punching the wall-length mirror. "We've always known she would make a play for my inheritance, but I did not think her so heartless to murder my uncle—no matter how much the two of us despise him!"
"There is no time to waste," Dedue said quickly. "The police have an arrest warrant out for you—and they're heading for Garreg Mach."
Byleth shook her head in disgust. "And it doesn't matter to them that Dimitri's been here all day, does it." She met Dedue's eyes, and was relieved to see the same anger that was certainly brewing in her own.
"We have to go." Dedue turned back to Dimitri. "I know a safe place for you to stay."
Dimitri's body continued to shake, but a heavy realization fell across his face. He turned to Byleth, eyes wide, and fumbled with his next words. "Professor, I—I don't…"
"Go," Byleth ordered. She bent down and tossed Dimitri's hard shoes into his small sports bag. "Go through the basement and take the back exit through the soup kitchen. It'll lead you into a side alley that should keep you out of the street's security cameras." Byleth tied the bag shut and held it out for Dimitri to grab. "I'll stall the police as much as I can."
Dimitri nodded, just a little, and took the bag. "Thank you," he said in a steady voice.
Beside him, Dedue inclined his head. "I also thank you. Dimitri, we must hurry."
"Right." Dimtiri slung his bag over his shoulder and followed Dedue to the practice room's doorway, but before he exited, he turned around and looked at Byleth. "I hope this does not last for long, and that the truth is revealed as soon as it can be."
There were several thoughts that ran through Byleth's mind at that moment. Her thoughts on Cornelia, a Blaiddyd Company board member who never cared to hide her disdain for Dimitri, so much so that everyone at Garreg Mach knew of her jealousy. Her thoughts on Rufus Blaiddyd, the acting CEO who only called Dimitri once a year between his many affairs and public scandals. Her thoughts on Dimitri, a kind young man who had shined a light onto her life ever since she began instructing him, and whose light on grew when Byleth was at her lowest.
There were many things Byleth thought of, but only one word she said.
"Go."
Dimitri gave her a heavy nod, lingered at the doorway another moment, and then ran to follow Dedue.
Byleth watched him go, and she felt her heart shatter.
"Oh, Professor Byleth!" Mercedes said as she opened the door to the modest two-story house. "You've heard the news as well?"
Byleth nodded. "Is Dedue here?"
As she said the words, Dedue followed Mercedes out of the house. He finished zipping up his jacket, and Byleth caught sight of a bright blue insignia in the shape of a flower that had been sown to the front of the dark gray jacket. Like all company dancers, Dedue had a separate career that provided extra income. In Dedue's case, he ran Flowers of Duscur; a charity organization he had funded with Mercedes to mentor and tutor Duscurian children.
"Professor," he greeted with a curt nod. The two of them were dressed in layers of winter jackets, which made Byleth faintly aware of a cold breeze that grazed her exposed calves. "Dimitri has been declared innocent. We would appreciate it if you could join us as we go relieve him from hiding."
"Do you know where he is?" Byleth asked.
Dedue sighed and shared a look with Mercedes. "I think. There is… much to explain."
"I can explain on the way." Mercedes reached forward and gripped Byleth's hands with her thick purple gloves. "Come with us. I truly hope there's nothing to worry about, but just in case, we might need some help."
Byleth nodded wordlessly, and they were soon in Dedue's old car, with the Duscurian at the wheel. Dedue drove the car as fast as the speed limits would let him, not even taking the time to turn on the heating. Byleth hardly noticed. Soon enough, they were out of the suburbs and racing straight towards the highway. Mercedes told Byleth everything.
"He was in our basement for a month," Mercedes said. Her voice was so low it sounded like a confession. Considering everything, perhaps it was. "But with the police searches, the questioning, and everything else, it made Dimitri nervous. We tried to convince him to stay, but after he heard that they had searched Sylvain's residence…"
"He thought you two were next," Byleth surmised. From the backseat, Byleth glanced over at Dedue, who had a tight grip on the steering wheel.
"We knew that Cornelia would direct the investigation to Felix first," Dedue said. "She knew how close they were as children, and she already had surveillance around Edelgard and her company. Dimitri had hoped that Cornelia would stop there—that she would ignore the rest of us—but then they searched Ingrid's apartment. Sylvain's house came next, and we knew who she'd target after that."
Byleth swallowed the lump in her throat. Like Dimitri, she had met Dedue at the Garreg Mach, but unlike Dimitri, Byleth was actually able to promote him to dancer for the academy's Company. They had talked throughout those two years, mostly when Byleth went to volunteer at Dedue's non-profit, but every conversation about Dimitri was about the past—never the present, in case Cornelia was listening through one of her many spies. So Byleth listened, and she learned more about the ghosts that haunted both men.
Dedue and Dimitri had met at a program for teenagers who had lost a family member. Dedue didn't give the details, and Byleth didn't pry, but she knew that the shared experience had formed a strong bond between the two of them, much like it had allowed Dimitri to comfort Byleth in the months after Jeralt passed. The fact that so much of Dimitri's life had been shaped by death made her shudder.
Byleth sighed. "He didn't want to endanger you."
Dedue's gloves crinkled against the steering wheel. "People of Duscur still face prejudice in Fódlan. It was Dimitri's fear that, if he was caught hiding in our house, I would face prosecution. And because Mercedes and I were dating at the time, he feared that the prosecution would also extend to her."
"He just… disappeared." Mercedes' voice was soft. "Without saying a word. We couldn't tell you in case the police were wiretapping, and we couldn't properly search for Dimitri without raising any red flags. Not with Cornelia in control of the Blaiddyd Company. It is the largest trading firm in the continent, after all. And wealthy companies come with powerful connections to… well, everything."
"I understand," Byleth said, and she did. "Even Yuri couldn't find him, and he has connections that go around the police."
"He did not even come back when I knew he ran out of medications." Dedue whispered. "And without his prescription, I do not believe he would have been able to acquire them."
Byleth's throat was tight. "And what makes you so sure you know where he's hiding?"
"Because Dimitri is a believer of the Goddess," Mercedes stated with a gentle confidence. "And because there's only one church in Fódlan that Dimitri would know to be completely safe from Cornelia's influence."
Dedue's face tightened. It wasn't much in the way of expression, but Byleth and Dedue were alike in that it was rare for their emotions to come out. That's how Byleth could see that Dedue was as scared as she was. Because what if Dimitri wasn't there? What if he had hidden himself so far away that there'd be no one to find him? And what if Dimitri's demons had reared their heads again, now that he didn't have his medications? The unsaid questions hung in the air, and Byleth felt too helpless to ask any of them.
Mercedes reached behind her and grabbed Byleth's hand. With the other one, she leaned over and gently placed it on top of Dedue's. "He'll be there," she said with confidence. "And if he isn't, we'll still find him."
Dedue sighed, but nevertheless, he briefly let go of the gearshift to squeeze his fiancée's hand.
And for the first time in many months, Byleth prayed to the Goddess. She prayed that Mercedes was right. She prayed that Dimitri was really there.
The small church peaked out from beneath the stone outcropping that separated Fódlan and the autonomous state of Duscur. It was a tiny thing amid the large rocks that created a pseudo border between the two states, made out of a light gray stone that blended in with the scenery around them. Night had just fallen on the rocky lands, but though the church's parking lot was empty, Byleth could see candles flicker behind the stout building's windows.
The three of them burst out of the car and ran to the front door, fighting against a blisteringly cold wind that nearly swept Mercedes off her feet. Dedue caught her before she could fall, and Byleth, in spite of her unnatural ability to be unaffected by the weather, felt her exposed calves' skin morph into goosebumps. Mercedes, without caring for the late hour, immediately reached up to the old-school knocker that hung off the solid wood door. The wood creaked and heaved with each heavy thud, and Byleth held her breath.
A minute passed. Then two. Then, as Byleth had stepped up to bang on the door, an older man with graying orange hair opened it for her. He was tall, and he blinked down at Byleth in shock. Byleth did not know this man, but as he looked over at her companions, his gaze immediately softened. "Ah, Mercedes. Dedue," he said in a low voice, heavy with a deep emotion Byleth couldn't quite pinpoint. "To what do I owe—"
"Rufus Blaiddyd's true murderer is in police custody," Dedue said in a strong and fast voice. "We were hoping you know what that entails, Father Pronislav."
The man's eyes widened. His chest shook with heavy breaths beneath his priest uniform, and he kept glancing between his three guests. For a moment, Byleth expected the worst. Dimitri had never come here. Or maybe he had, but he'd run off. Or maybe something even worse had happened. Something so—
"He's downstairs," the priest said breathlessly. "Come quickly. Please."
He ushered them all inside and immediately began rushing towards the back of the simply yet well-maintained church. Byleth ran amid the low pews, past the plain altar with only a single flag of Sothis, and through a back area filled with tables and stacks of books that had been organized into neat sections. Father Pronislav reached the back of the room and hesitated in front of an old bookcase filled with books on the Sothian religion.
"We're here to help," Byleth said.
Father Pronislav sighed. "I know."
Mercedes opened her mouth to speak, but the priest was already pulling a single tome away from the bookcase. There was a loud click, and suddenly, the entire shelf came loose from the wall. The priest pulled it back, revealing a single doorway that led to a stone staircase.
The only sounds they made were their panting breaths as they descended into the church's basement. A low set of lights hung down from the ceiling, vaguely illuminating the musty area. Byleth, Dedue, and Mercedes stepped forward as they took in the spacious yet oppressing basement. A single mattress lay against a wall to the left, and a table and chair sat in the middle. There were a couple of books here and there, but it hardly looked like anyone lived here at all. Most of what Byleth saw were shadowy corners and her own misty breaths. That's the other thing. It was cold down here, yet there was only a thin blanket laying upon the mattress.
Beside her, Byleth heard Dedue gasp. "Dimitri."
Byleth turned her head and followed Dedue's gaze.
There, in the shadows at the opposite end of the basement, was a man curled in on himself beneath a thick black and white blanket. It was wrapped around his shoulders like a fur cape, encompassing nearly his entire body. Only his head was visible, but it was obscured by long blonde hair that covered most of his face.
Mercedes and took a step forward. "Oh, Dimitri! Thank the Goddess you're alri—"
Dimitri stood up, and Mercedes gasped.
A single blue eye peeked out from beneath his long blonde hair, darting frantically between Byleth, Mercedes, and Dedue. Byleth looked for the other one, but all she could see was a black patch that covered the right half of his face.
But more than anything, Dimitri looked tired. His cheeks were gaunt, a deep purple eyebag hung beneath his left eye, and even as his expression contorted itself into a mask of shock and pain, his face looked far older than was fitting for a man who was only twenty-three.
"No," he croaked in a low and broken voice. "First my mother, then my stepmother, my father, and now you."
For a moment, no one moved. Byleth scrambled to process everything, because this was Dimitri. It was! His voice was deeper, his hair was messier, but even with the dark shadows of the church's basement, Byleth could never mistake Dimitri's face for another's.
"That witch stayed true to her word," Dimitri croned. "But I stayed away! I stayed away, I didn't contact a soul, and she still—Professor. She went after you, as well?"
"Dimitri, what is wrong?" Dedue asked cautiously. "What—"
"Why?" Dimitri begged. "Why did you all die? Why have you come to haunt me as well?"
"Dimitri. Please, it's us. We aren't dead. We're alive, Dimitri. We're alive." Mercedes took a single step forward, but Dimitri immediately shambled away from them and pressed his back to the wall behind him.
"Stay back!" He cried. "Stay back!"
Mercedes froze, and Dedue placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Dimitri," he said, "you are unwell."
"I know. That is why you are here, is it not? To remind me of my weakness. To remind me of why I deserve this torment!"
"Dimitri—"
"Stay back!" Dimtri pressed himself further against the wall. "Please, I beg of you, stay back!"
Byleth stood there, watching as Dimitri curled in himself against the far wall of the basement. She didn't quite understand what he was thinking—how could she—but she recognized something in his uncovered eye. She recognized the confusion. The pain.
It reminded her of herself, after Jeralt had died and she had felt so alone.
"Your void." The words left Byleth of their own accord. "It's grown. Hasn't it?"
Dimitri's eye widened. Byleth vaguely processed Dedue and Mercedes looking over at her, but all of her attention was on Dimitri. His breathing was still ragged, but it had slowed somewhat. This paranoia, this fear, it was unlike Byleth had ever seen from him. She knew that, but she fumbled with what to say next. Byleth had never been good with words—that was Dimitri, back when Jeralt had died and Byleth's entire world had crumbled around her.
It had been early fall, with the orange and brown leaves falling slowly, coating the vast graveyard. There was Byleth, standing above her father's tombstone, knowing she looked as terrible as she felt. She remembered wondering where to go and what to do, and she remembered Dimitri. Standing beside her. He didn't push, but he didn't leave her in silence. Instead, he talked to her, and it was those words that pulled her through the following months of ache and loss.
Byleth may not have known what to say, but Dimitri did. So she took a deep breath, and, remembering his words from so long ago, repeated them word for word.
"You don't have to move," she said in a clear and steady voice. Just like the one Dimitri had used. "You don't have to say anything. And no one will force you to do anything you're not ready for."
Byleth took a step forward, and when Dimitri didn't flinch, she took another. "Grieving for the dead seems never ending, doesn't it? Especially when those who are dead never seem to truly leave you. But I promise you, there are those who are still living, waiting for you to come back. Even if you feel lost and broken.
"So take your time," Byleth said. "And we'll be here when you're ready to come back to us; we who are still here, in the land of the living. Because no matter how pained you may be now, those who yet live will wait for your return. Whenever that may be."
She came to a stop mere paces away from Dimitri. He looked at her up and down, but he didn't flinch. He just stood there, afraid and hesitant to even move.
"Are you truly alive?" He whispered.
"We are," Byleth said. "And we're here to bring you home."