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Chapter Text

When she found him, she thought him a ghost. The wraith of a boy five years dead. He looked so sad, hunched against the ornate marble of the crumbling monastery. Gaunt face flecked with fresh blood,  his lance still clutched in his hand. He kept his gaze cast downward like he did not hear the echo of her footsteps ricocheting endlessly from the walls. 

She stepped over the still-warm bodies of slain Adrestian soldiers and extended her hand, shafts of sunlight warming her skin and catching in his golden hair. Five years ago he would have taken her hand and let her leverage him back to his feet. He would have smiled at her and given soft thanks for her aid. Five years ago he still wore a carefully constructed mask of chivalry. 

Dimitri looked up, face somber, and Byleth masked her surprise as only a single blue eye beheld her. A clearer image began to take shape; she remembered then what had lurked beneath his facade. How it had cracked in the weeks before the revelation of Edelgard’s betrayal. 

He observed her hand, still suspended between them, “I should have known that one day,” he looked away, his voice was deeper, hoarser, “You would be haunting me as well.” 

Then Dimitri, heir apparent to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, rose to his feet. Five years was a long time. He was broader of body, but his face was narrower, nearly gaunt. His skin was sallow, a dark circle adorned his good eye while the other was obscured by a simple black patch. His flaxen hair had grown long and unkempt. Draped about his massive shoulders was a cloak of fur, and his armor was black as pitch. He inclined his head slightly towards her, squinting with his good eye as though he were discerning the realness of her. Something haunted lurked behind his icy iris. 

The sight of him was glorious and terrible all the same.

Still, something of the young man she had known remained. Or she hoped it did. There had been a time when Byleth had harbored forbidden affections for him, she cared for him deeply. To see him potentially resorted to the ‘wild boar’ of Felix’s tauntings was almost unimaginable. 

“Dimitri…” She breathed, and suddenly she felt the five years. Not on her body, which seemed not to have aged at all; but in the sight of him, how time had ripped him apart and rearticulated him into something so ferocious and bloodthirsty. 

The would-be-king watched her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. Standing in his shadow, him towering over her, Byleth found it hard not to look away. Her face felt hot, she remembered flirting in the Goddess Tower, his hand on her arm… 

Dimitri jerked away, cape billowing as he spun after some distant sound. He murmured to himself, and then again, more forceful, as though he were speaking taciturnly to someone else. Byleth took an uneasy step backward.

A feral grin split his handsome mouth, and his face darkened into a grimace, “Bandits. It would seem there is killing to be done.” 

Byleth was helpless but to follow. Who was she to deny the whims of a wayward king? Nevermind how mad he had become. 

-

Battle won, enemy routed, monastery reclaimed, Blue Lions reunited on the field of combat. It was all very story book; Ashe had even proclaimed so aloud to Byleth’s wry amusement. But there was one element that they were sorely missing, though none yet dared to speak it aloud. 

Their valiant king hadn’t returned to them, and the haggard raging creature they did receive had no interest in reclaiming his kingdom. “A beast,” Felix said, and Ingrid punched him hard in the shoulder. 

He did not dine with them that night, cook fires burning low and hot in a courtyard. The kitchens had not yet been cleared of detritus, so they settled on fish caught fresh from the pond roasted and seasoned with wild herbs. A fine meal. Byleth found she could stomach very little when the heavy weight of five years of war bore down on all of their shoulders. 

She could see how it had bent and shaped each of her students in sharper, keener warriors. Their skill made her proud. Still, it made her heart ache that they must know such bloodshed to hone said skills. 

But her divine heart ached for none more than Dimitri. Her fallen prince. He whispered to things unseen and did not let his lance from his grip in the presence of others. Only hours since she had found him and already she knew the depths of his unhingedness. He was paranoid, aggressive towards once friends, and hellbent on revenge. 

Byleth needed to speak with him, alone. 

After the sun had set and the moon hung low high in the sky, casting the world beyond their campfires in its pale glow, she slipped away into the shadows. It was not hard to find him, she need only follow the dull pangs of steel splitting wood to find him at the training ground. Bathed in moonlight his pale hair looked to be spun from silver. Still armored, the ebony of the plate glinted paradoxically white. He walked across the field and retrieved a short spear from a wooden target. He had splintered the thing to a thousand tiny pieces with the force of his throw. 

When he finally looked to her, his single exacting eye was a pool of moonlight. 

“What do you want?” He snarled, making his dissatisfaction with her interruption abundantly clear. Whatever gentleness he had harbored towards her seemed to have died somewhere in the five years that lingered between them. Her heart fell, but still, she tried, she owed him that much. 

“We are all worried, Dimitri.” Then, more quietly, “I am worried.” 

He shook his head and took a menacing step towards her, “Worry not professor. I have finally found my purpose in this terrible world. And I will see that I fulfill it.” Something like a dreamy half smile ghosted his lips, “For the dead, I must.” 

“For the living, you musn’t.” Byleth sniped back, a bit more harshly than she had intended. 

Dimitri grunted dismissively and turned back to the makeshift range he had constructed from debris and what little equipment remained. He stepped back on his right foot and lifted his spear, aiming for another target. 

It was then that she noticed it, her ever analytical eyes spotting how he favored his left shoulder. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly to one of muted pain as his body shifted and coiled. Then the spear flew, his form followed through with deadly grace, and whatever had been was again obscured behind his cold facade. The second target was resorted to smithereens, his weapon lodged in the dirt where it had once stood.  

He thought himself a good actor. Maybe he was. But Byleth had been instrumental in his training for the better half of a year. They had worked together nearly every day on his form. She had coached him through countless drills and sparring sessions. She knew his tells. 

“You’re injured.” She breathed, and closed the distance between them. A piece of plate over his shoulder was scuffed silver. 

His gaze narrowed when her fingertips brushed the cold steel, “A bandit slipped a blade between the plates as I slew his comrades. The tip barely pierced my mail. ‘Tis hardly a scratch.” 

“Perhaps Flayn or Mercedes should take a look…” Byleth offered, but she knew he would not accept. 

Dimitri frowned in response and caught her wrist in his hand. He wore gloves of black leather, but she could still feel the furnace warmth of him on her skin. His grip on her was tight, but not painfully so. 

“Why are you here?” He bid, darkly, “What do you want from me that you plague me so?” 

“Dimitri I only came because I am worried for you. I care about you.” She let her free hand rest over the scuffed plate, noticing a single fleck of dried blood beside her fingertip. His or the bandits? “You do not interact with us, you whisper to the dead, you hide wounds—

“And why is any of that your concern, professor .” His grip tightened, his handsome face soured with suspicion. 

“Because I care for you, Dimitri,” she insisted, sharing more in her flustered state than perhaps was appropriate, “Since I first became acquainted with you five years ago I have cared for you.” The half confession brought heat to her cheeks and she looked away from him. 

The king went perfectly still for a frigid moment, then replied, measured, “I see.”

He tilted her chin with his free hand, and before she had time to read his face his lips crashed into hers in a brutal approximation of a kiss. It was rushed and unpracticed, teeth and spit and tongue as her back impacted hard with the smooth stone wall behind them. She wondered as she struggled to keep up with his frantic pace, precisely how many people he had kissed before this moment. 

Not that she minded. His mouth was surprisingly soft and the scrape of his teeth over her lower lip sent a shot of sparks through her middle. Byleth gasped, and savored how he had to hunch over to meld their mouths properly. 

When he pulled away, chin slick with spit and pupil like a single pinprick, none of his inexperience showed. Dimitri was not shy or demure. He looked cold, hungry and confident. 

Byleth’s heart was thundering so loudly in her ears she almost missed his command, “Turn around, shorts down, hands on the wall.” 

The words took a moment to process, her eyes drawn to wear his fingers worked methodically at the clasps of his codpiece. When they registered a spike of searing heat went through her and her cunt clenched like a vice around nothing. The world was ethereal, shrouded in the disjoining light of the moon. Her chest heaved with the force of her breath and she acquiesced, tugging her shorts and leggings down her shapely thighs. 

Clothes around her ankles she did as she was bid. She bent over and pressed her palms flat against the cold stone wall of the training grounds. Behind her she heard metal thud dully in the dust and she curved her back subtly, sticking her ass out tantalizing. She could hardly think, her mind was so clouded with the surrealness of this situation, and the lust it provoked within her. 

She shivered with anticipation at the clank of his armor as he stalked behind her, and she shut her eyes. A shuddering breath escaped her lips when the leather of his gloves cupped her ass. There was no hesitance, no illusion of gentleness from Dimitri; only pure animal want. He did not speak, and growled as he pressed two fingers into her aching slit. 

Byleth gasped as he hooked them, and whimpered when he pulled back. Humming, satisfied with her wetness, he wasted no time with foreplay. She heard and felt him shift over her back, then felt the blunt head of him press against her. Then in. And in. And in some more. 

Goddess, his cock was as large as the rest of him. When he had finally seated himself, her ass flush to his skin, she squirmed against him marveling at the fill of it. Dimitri didn’t give her time to adjust, huffing like a beast he gripped her hips with with bruising force and began to rut into her. Each thrust tinged with a touch of burn at his size, the sort of pain that only intensified her pleasure. The air was filled with their gasps and moans and the brutal fast squelch of her cunt as he fucked her. 

There was no gentleness here, not an ounce of reverence. The King’s wants were clear. He did not lean over her and kiss her shoulders, he did not whisper sweet nothings in her ears. Dimitri fucked Byleth hard and fast and raw, his austerity held true. He was sating a physical want, burying himself in her wet, welcoming warmth to quell a whim and appease his turgid cock. 

Byleth could not bring herself to care, not when her jaw hung wide and her eyes rolled. When he did lean over her it was not to kiss or caress but to grope roughly at her swaying breasts while he snapped his hips wildly into her own. As a student he had often gazed at them when he thought her occupied. Secretly she had enjoyed the attention. 

He hissed when she overfilled his broad palm, and her pussy clenched in needy response. 

“Fuck.” Dimitri snarled, and his hand dropped to circle frantically at her clit as his cock seemed to impossibly thicken inside of her. 

Byleth peered back over her shoulder to watch him take her. He was a marvel in his black armor, hips snapping furiously, blue eye locked on the place he plundered her. Sweat beaded on his brow and she wished she could lick it off, but knew that touch would be unwelcome. 

His eye closed and his handsome mouth dropped open, brow furrowing as his hips lost all remaining rhythm. Byleth gasped and dropped her head as his fingers circled wildly at her clit. The white hot blaze of an orgasm tore through her center and her cunt tightened around him like a vice. Impossible wet and tight around him. 

She felt his dick swell, his hips stuttering to a brutal stop, and then a rush of wet warmth inside of her. He grunted through his orgasm, puffing out boarish breath until he was through pumping into her. She huffed, pressing her forehead to the cold stone of the wall. Had he ever come in a woman before? From the way he had kissed her she guessed not. 

Something about being his first made her wet all over again. 

Dimitri didn’t notice, or perhaps he simply did not care. He pulled out and tucked himself away. When Byleth righted herself and turned to face him she hoped to find even a fraction more of the man she had known present with her. She was met with only a cold, discerning gaze. He snorted in disgust at the sigh of his cum dripping down her thigh, as though he hadn’t put it there.

She wiped it with her robe, suddenly self conscious.  

“Return to your campfires professor,” he said coldly, “The night grows cold, you would not want to catch a chill. I will be in the cathedral, I am less likely to be disturbed there. The dead speak loudest in the quiet.” 

She physically recoiled from his scorn. Had he not enjoyed himself? Had she not just allowed him to use her body for his own pleasure? She wanted to ask him, wanted to demand why he sought out the dead so readily when she was here and willing, warm and alive . But he was already gone; a great ebon menace stalking the halls of Garreg Mach, soft cock still wet with her. 

Byleth, a frustrating combination of irritated and exhausted, cleaned herself up as best she could before she returned to her former students. She fussed with her hair as she walked and hoped that it wouldn’t be obvious what had just transpired between their former professor and their king. 

No one seemed to notice, save for Sylvain who gave her a look. But he was always giving women looks. 

“Professor.” Ingrid greeted her, giving a small smile, “Did you go to speak with His Majesty?” 

Byleth nodded and resumed her place by the fire. It was very warm, her eyelids felt suddenly heavy. 

“Any luck?” Ashe asked, hesitant hope brimming in his soft voice. 

“With that wild beast? Unlikely.” Felix groused, not looking up from his blade and whetstone. 

Mercedes frowned at him, “Do not say such terrible things, Felix!” Then her wide, innocent eyes turned back to Byleth, “Well?” 

All of them, save Felix, were so hopeful. Even Gilbert seemed to be listening in from his place by one of the wagons. 

Byleth shook her head and gave a sad smile. The group seemed to deflate on cue. The night ruined. 

“It is only our first night reunited.” She consoled. 

Gilbert drew nearer to the firelight, and agreed, “Your professor is right, give him time.” 

Slowly, the nostalgic chatter resumed. Byleth played along for a time before sneaking back off into the night, none of them knowing their king’s spend lingered between her thighs. Except maybe Sylvain, who watched her retrated with bemused, knowing eyes. 

On her way to her old quarters she paused to gaze at the marvel of the cathedral. Even partially destroyed it was still beautiful. 

That night she lay awake wondering if perhaps Felix was right. Maybe Dimitri was truly gone, maybe all that remained was a bloodthirsty husk. 

Maybe, she thought, this is what he had always been. 

Byleth closed her eyes and tried to remember the stretch of his hot cock inside of her, fingers slipping beneath the band of her sleep pants. 

Chapter Text

Ailell had been a challenge. Even for Byleth. 

Their march back to Garreg Mach had been one of sweat and wounds reopened. The healers were working double-time while still nursing their own hurts. The pain of a burn lingered more than that of most wounds; and The Valley of Torment had left their little army with many burns. 

Spirits were low, lower at the whisper of marching on Enbarr; Fhirdiad, still held by Cornelia, grew further away with each passing mile. 

They all looked to the man who should have been their leader, and found a creature still fueled by his maddening desire for revenge. Now he also possessed a hero’s relic. Areadbhar looked fine in his hands, when he wasn’t scowling he almost looked regal. Almost looked a king. 

Enbarr, he said. And so to Enbarr they would go. 

But first they would return to the monastery to bolster and reorganize now that Rodrigue and the bulk of his forces had joined them. 

It was in the shadow of Garreg Mach that they had their second encounter. 

The monastery was in sight; hewn into the jagged mountains, as though it were carved from their very stone. Byleth leaned against the trunk of a tree and beheld in through the leaves; bathed in silver moonlight it was quite a sight to behold. 

Though some had chosen to forge ahead through the night, the majority of the army elected to spend the night in the forest to recoup their strength from the previous day’s march. They would make their final push come morning. 

She sighed and rubbed her eyes; as tired of the rest of them, but her burns still stung and her mind was plagued by the path unfolding before her. She had thought that taking a stroll through the quiet midnight wood might soothe her, but she only found her thoughts wandering further as she strayed from the low din of the encampment. Dimitri had hardly glanced her way outside of wartable meetings, not since their tryst in the training grounds. 

He did not seem coy, or demure, or shy. He wasn’t playing a game. In what had quickly established itself to be cold, callous precedent; he simply did not care. 

It was driving her mad. The bruises from his grip had taken weeks to fade; and how she savored their look upon her skin terrified her. 

Beyond her person qualms; he was going to get them all killed. Even bolstered by house Fraldarius they did not have the numbers to take Enbarr; not while the Kingdom was wont to topple at their backs and leave them with no home to return to. It seemed that to Dimitri, the dead were worth far more than the living; and the dead demanded recompense. 

So she lived with his touch seared into her skin and his cold demeanor weighing heavy on her heart. 

Byleth sighed and sunk down the trunk of a tree. Its bark was rough at her shoulders, and she savored the grounding sensation. Somewhere behind her armor rattled and the little tension which had escaped her came ricocheting back. 

“Professor.” His voice came coldly from behind her, “You’d best return to camp. It grows cold and beasts roam this wood at night.” 

His concern was not for her as a person, but for her utility as a tactician. 

“I can handle a few night crawlers, Dimitri,” She replied, matching his iciness. Little patience remained in her tonight; she was burned, filthy and exhausted, and wanted nothing to do with this beast of a man. 

Then his armored hand rested on her shoulder, and all of that conviction instantly melted away. 

“Stand up.”

She did, begrudgingly, dusting off her robe. 

“Look at me.” He commanded when she would not face him. 

Byleth kept her gaze cast downward in childish defiance, pretending as though she were observing something intensely interesting in the leaf litter. 

“I said, look at me .” He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his gaze. His teeth were bared and his lone eye was wild with a dangerous mixture of lust and something dark which she could not place. 

“Dimitri—

The King cut her off with a searing kiss; better than the last time but still brutal and fast. He nipped her lower lip and she gasped into his mouth, boneless in his embrace, helpless but to kiss him back. 

Dimitri backed her into a tree, large hands running down the curves of her torso and hips before he broke away. Panting, pupil like a pinprick in his single icy eye, he issued another harsh command, “Shorts and leggings.” 

At the same time he began to fumble with his codpiece. 

As Byleth worked her clothes down her legs she noticed the pale hint of Areadbhar in the ivy at their feet. He’d been loathe to part with it for the whole of the march, even whispering to it at points. It made sense in a sordid way, his father had wielded it before him, and King Lambert’s ghost was one of those that plagued him. 

And here he had dropped it for the chance at sex with her . Something about it made her feel powerful, but the sensation quickly faded as her eyes were drawn back to her former student. He was still clad in black armor from head to toe, save for his codpiece which was lost in pine needles and leaves. He was stroking his cock in a gloved hand, and despite the breadth of his palm she could still easily make out the organ in question. 

It was large, flush in the moonlight, imposing. Byleth marveled that she had ever taken it into her body. And she was about to do it again. Willingly.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this.” She breathed, uncomfortably wet between her thighs. She kicked her boots off so she could finish removing her shorts and leggings. 

Dimitri looked up from where he touched himself, hungry eye wandering the bare curves of her lower body. He smirked, “Because you want it, professor.” 

He stalked towards her until her back was flush to the trunk of the tree and forcefully hitched her right leg up onto his armored hip. The plate pinched awkwardly at her skin but Byleth hardly noticed with Dimitri so close. He smelled heady and masculine; leather and sweat. He pressed his dick along the seam of her cunt and canted his hips slowly, slickening himself. 

“And I want it, too.” He pulled back and sheathed himself with little warning, fucking her back against the tree. Grunting, he hunched over her, and Byleth wrapped her other leg around his narrow waist as he set a brutal pace. 

He grit his teeth and grunted, hiding his face in the crook of her shoulder. As one hand groped at her ass, supporting her weight, the other planted itself on the tree. 

He stretched her exquisitely, and she fit him like a hot, wet glove; massaging every inch of his shaft while the head of him had already found her sweet spot. They fucked hard and fast, but at the same time as though they were made for each other. 

“...tight.” Dimitri huffed, breath hot on her skin. 

Byleth moaned loudly, and somewhere beyond their sphere of pleasure animals scattered in the brush. She tangled the delicate fingers of one hand into his sweat damp hair, and the other raked longingly down his armored back. She desperately wished she could mark him there, scratches to match the bruises he would surely leave. 

He panted into her shoulder and she felt his teeth grazed the skin of her neck. 

“Shit!” Byleth exclaimed, shivers traveling down her spine. She felt wetter, he fucked her harder for it. The soft sounds of midnight forest were lost to her, the din of the camp was a distant memory. Now all she heard was the heady slap of his balls between her legs and her cunt’s slick reply. 

Dimitri stiffened between her legs and his pace became frantic as he plundered her. The bark of the tree dug harshly into Byleth’s back and she clung to him more tightly, ankles locking at the small of his back. She could feel his cock twitch and swell inside of her, and from the way the fat head of him pummeled her she knew she wouldn’t need further stimulation. 

“I’m gonna come,” She gasped, frantically undulating her hips to meet his thrusts, enticing him impossibly deeper into her body, “Fuck, Dimitri I’m there!”

Her inner muscles tightened like they were trying to hold him in place as heat bloomed in her abdomen and her vision whited. The feeling of him filling her through it— rutting into her with animal intensity as she quivered and came— was sublime. 

Byleth’s muscles went flaccid as she came down; body hot and relaxed with orgasm. She went limp against the tree, letting Dimitri use her to achieve his own pleasure. Something about being used by him sparked arousal in her again, but she was too fucked out to achieve another peak in that moment. 

Dimitri snorted like a horse, both of his hands gripping her hips hard as he fucked her. Her head knocked against the tree, but it didn’t matter when his dick twitched inside of her and he toppled over the edge. Wet warmth blooming in her cunt, Byleth sighed and closed her eyes, savoring the heat of his body so close while the afterglow held him there. His cock pulsed and he ground his teeth. 

It didn’t last long. He stood her up on coltish legs and tucked himself away, retrieving his codpiece and Areadbhar from the ground. Byleth watched numbly, cum dripping down her naked thigh. 

Once he was finished he looked at her, annoyance plain on his handsome face. It stung to see it. Byleth questioned what she was doing, why she had allowed it to happen again . 

But this night he did not leave her so quickly. He gathered her clothes and offered them to her, his movements jerky with lost patience, but it was still a kindness. 

“Dress yourself,” His eye fell to where his spend dripped pearly down her thigh, right over a burn. His pale brow quirked slightly, as though the sight actually perturbed him, “Clean up and visit Mercedes. She has a salve for burns.”

“It is not so large as to warrant—

“Do as I say.”

She scowled and wiped his cum away with the sleeve of her robe, knowing it would be washed upon their return to the monastery anyways. Then she shakily pulled her leggings and shorts back on. Next came her boots; the heels sinking slightly into the loamy earth. 

All the while he watched passively; face unreadable. 

Once she was as right as she would be, skin still flushed, hair tousled and semen still cooling between her thighs, she stared at him as though awaiting her next command. There had once been a time where he was to obey her without question. She often missed it. 

“Begone from me now,” He turned away, looking to the monastery in the distance. His fist tightened around Areadbhar and he mumbled something unintelligible to himself before speaking again, “I must be alone. Leave me!”

Voiced raised, the slight tenderness he had shown her was immolated into nothing. Once more he was the feral Boar King of Garreg Mach.  

Byleth did not argue, she did not want to draw his ire. She fled, her path illuminated by moonlight, a soreness already gathering at the apex of her burned, bruised thighs. 

What to do? How to proceed? She visited Mercedes as Dimitri had bid, and as the other woman applied a cooling salve to Byleth’s burns, her pale blue eyes noticed the bruises already forming there. Purple black on pale flesh, in the shape of large handprints. 

Mercedes became very still and Byleth knew that between the healer and Sylvain, the proverbial cat was out of the bag. 

What would her dear Boar King think?

Chapter Text

He always came in the night. Like the ghosts that haunted him he stalked by the light of the moon. After their previous tryst, post-Ailell, he had put a distance between the two of them unlike any he had imposed before. 

With both Mercedes and Sylvain clued into their illicit affair rumors tore through the ranks of their allies like wildfire, and the smoke seemed enough to put Dimitri off. He ignored her pointedly, like she didn’t know what his lips tasted like, or the feeling of his spend trickling down her thigh. 

Byleth was both relieved and frustrated with the development. Certainly the relationship— or whatever it had been— was inappropriate. She was of low birth and he was a wayward king. The most realistic of the critiques she had heard, yet those were the whispers that burned the worst. Those were the ones that implied Dimitri had been using her, at best. That whatever secret longings may have been budding inside of her were foolhardy. She was common, and common women were not… loved by kings. 

The looks her closest allies gave her were almost stifling of all. Pity from Annette and Mercedes, confusion from Ashe, smug Sylvain appeared almost proud, while Ingrid and Felix both expressed anger; though each for their own reasons. Dedue, newly returned, pretended as though nothing were amiss. She would have to pen him a thank you note once the war was through. 

And through it all, the whispers and sideways glances cast at her back, she secretly hungered for his razing touch over her flesh again. She wanted the bruises on her hips, the sound of him panting, hot and heavy over her, behind her, inside of her. 

Dimitri was content to wholly ignore her. She might’ve been a fly on the wall for how often he addressed her at war council. 

It wouldn’t matter soon, Byleth thought, reclining in her quarters. Tomorrow they would march for Gronder Field, towards the armies of both the Alliance and Empire. Towards certain doom if Dimitri could not pull himself together enough to lead them to victory. 

She was the tactician, but he was the king. The people followed him before any other. 

Byleth sighed and shut her eyes, throwing an arm haphazardly over them. It would be two days to Gronder once they departed, but still she felt as uneasy as the eve of battle. Cold and alone she wondered if the end was nigh. Her parchment and graphite were already packed, troop movements to be planned once the terrain was surveyed. 

None of it mattered. She could burn those implements and it would make no difference. A long despairing breath passed her lips, never had she felt so defeated. All of it over a boy who for all purposes was five years deceased. 

What led them now was but a spectre. 

Like the ghost he was he entered without knocking. Only a draft of cold, midnight air alerting her to his presence before he turned the deadbolt behind him. 

“Up.” He commanded, icily. 

She obeyed, already heating between her thighs, her body trained to the low, restrained call of his voice. 

King Dimitri was dressed down the the thin shirt that protected his pale skin from his armor and a pair of loose trousers. The former clung to his lean musculature deliciously as he stalked towards her like a predator. Eye pinioning her to the mattress. 

There were a million things she wanted to say in that moment, ranging from scathing curses to sultry entreaties. She chose to give voice to neither, remaining mum as he tilted her chin upward with a long finger. His breath smelled vaguely of ale, but his touch on her body was steady and unyielding. 

His gaze explored hers, sky and lilac warring until he’d found what he was looking for. Whatever it was, it pleased him, and Dimitri released a grunt of satisfaction before he crushed her lips to his. This kiss was the most skilled yet, no teeth clacking or sloppy licking. But it was still rushed, urgent in nature. Byleth gave into it easily, tangling her fingers into his pale locks, making him crane his neck further to a gratifying angle. 

One broad palm clutched tightly at her thigh while the opposite fumbled with the lacings of his trousers, freeing his cock to the cool air. 

Almost instinctively she dropped her hand to stroke him, swatting his own away. She had not yet had the chance to feel him like this, and her eagerness overwhelmed all of her common sense as she took him in hand. He was big in her palm, hot and heavy and pulsing, and when she squeezed he broke their kiss, moaning softly. 

Byleth had not seen him look so carefree since before Garreg Mach had fallen. Lips parted and eye shut in apparent ecstasy. By the single candle that burned on her bed stand, he almost looked angelic. Pale face warm by the firelight. All of his vengeful mien melted away.

She ran her hand over him, twisting at the leaking head and squeezing on the downstroke, mesmerized by his breathy gasps and furrowed brows. 

It was enough to set her skin ablaze, her cunt ached for attention and she dropped her free hand to tend to herself. Her fingers traced up her thigh, past the hem of her nightgown and teased over her folds through the crotch of her panties. Her hand sped up on Dimitri’s dick and she moaned softly in time with him. 

Her sound of pleasure snapped him to attention. Eye flying open he jerked back, cock bobbing awkwardly between them. 

“No,” he snarled, ferocity flooding back into the void between them, “That’s not how this is going to go. Get on you hands and knees, edge of the bed.” 

Byleth, shaken by his sudden turn in mood, obeyed, legs shaking as she rolled into position. She arched her back so that her ass stuck out more tantalizing and pressed her forehead to the sheets. She closed her eyes and exhaled, dripping with anticipation. She knew not why she let it continue, but always she did. It was foolish. But she craved his touch more than anything else in that moment. 

Her gown was rolled up over her hips and a large, warm hand groped at her ass, squeezing her cheek before giving it a rough smack . 

“Goddess.” She heard him moan, and bit her lip. He smacked her again and she squeaked, “...Your body…” he groaned in response, and Byleth shuddered at the praise. He leaned over, taking a moment to appreciate the feel of her breasts through her gown. 

“ All mine . ” He seethed and Byleth nodded in frantic agreement. 

“Yes.” She gasped, anything to get him inside of her. When he pushed aside the crotch of her panties, exposing her swollen, dripping center to the chill air, she added, “Yours, all yours.” 

He spanked her a final time then guided the length of his shaft slowly over her folds, the ridge of his head bumping her clit before he pulled back and did it again. 

Byleth mewled at the sensation, fingers curling like talons into her sheets as he repeated the motion again and again. Her cunt clenched around nothing and his broad hands spanned her narrow waist, deceptively gentle. 

“Beg me,” he breathed, voice soft but teetering on a razor edge of tension. 

Byleth, who had been squirming under his hands and cock, became still, “What?”

Lower, darker, gravelly with warning, he repeated himself, “ Beg .” 

She begged, “Fuck me,” she panted, “Please, Dimitri, My King, I need it .” 

With a pleased chuff and without further delay, he slotted the head of his weeping cock against her slit and entered her with a brutal thrust. Under her knees the mattress squeaked in complaint as he set an immediate, brutal pace. 

His cock pounded into her, their skin slapping lewdly as his fingers dug into her waist, leaving those bruises she so loved to gaze at once they were through. 

Panting, she felt him lean over her, hips snapping at a tighter deeper angle. One of his hands traced up the curved column of her spine until it met the base of her neck. His touch was tender, but the stutter of his hips and the twitch of his cock inside of her gave him away. In one, forceful movement, he pressed the side of her face harshly into the bed and planted his left foot on the mattress next to her knee, gaining further leverage.

“Fuck!” He snarled, fisting his hand in her hair as the angle deeped. Byleth could only reply with a needy moan, fucked beyond words, pleasure shooting white hot from her center, radiating through her body with each brutal shift of his hips. The painful twist of his fingers in her hair only heightened the sensation of being taken. Every fiber of her being was alight with his cruel touch.

If he was using her, then let him. Where his demeanor beyond these moments wounded her, the carnal touch of his body to hers grounded her ten times over. 

Fast and furious, she felt his cock beginning to swell within her, his thrusts slowing but deepening. The hand in her hair pulled, craning her neck and yanking her harder into his thrusts. The other dropped from her waist, skimming her navel before circling the pads of two rough fingers over her clit. 

Byleth keened and shuddered, climbing with him, pleasure-pain mingling as he pulled and circled and grunted behind her. Her ass clapped against his thighs and she trembled as he sped up, fingers and cock losing all sense of rhythm. 

With a squeal and a roar they were both sent spiraling over the edge. Byleth’s vision flashed white and she felt his hips cant brutally into her own as she rode her orgasm to its finish. Wet warmth flooded between her thighs and she collapsed forward onto the bed, sweaty, sated, and panting. 

After a long moment of delicious twitching, Dimitri, without pulling out, laid himself over her back. Distributing his weight such that he would not smother her, he let his lips brush her shoulder, then her neck, then the shell of her ear. 

 Breath caught in her chest, Byleth savored the moment, praying to the whatever gods might were listening that this was true gentleness on his part. That he touched her with reverence in this moment. But she could not see his face, so she could not be sure. 

A warm palm caressed up the curve of her side, hand sliding between the mattress and her sweat sticky flesh to palm her breast. 

His voice was cold when he spoke, and despite his words her hope still dwindled.

 “Ignore the rumors.” He said, “I’ll be back for more after Gronder. After I have taken her head.” 

All at once the words were vague and ominous and dripping with malice. She remained debauched and planted firmly on her stomach as he pulled out and relaced his trousers. He left her there, chemise rolled up to her breasts and semen staining the bedspread. 

He’ll be back for me . Her girlish heart soared that he still wanted her, that cruel gossip hadn’t changed his mind about her. 

Rolling onto her side she gripped a pillow. But he did not want her in the way she wanted him, that was plain to see. 

So why did she let this go on? 

He said he’d be back for more after Gronder. After Edelgard was slain. A victory fuck for a king. 

Byleth was not convinced they’d both live to see the day through.

Chapter Text

They survived Gronder. Mostly. 

They were short one lord. Dimitri grieved loudly, Felix with more subtlety. 

Rodrigue’s sacrifice had been necessary for their campaign to push onward. If not for his death their Kingdom would be without a King, and the war would be lost. And, it would seem, the shock of the Lord’s loss was enough to bring Dimitri back to them. 

Once more Byleth saw the gentle boy she had tutored in peaceful days passed. His blue eyes were no longer austere, but neither were they content. It seemed that their king had traded madness for guilt, and he wore it plainly for all to see. 

One by one he asked forgiveness of their comrades. In Fhirdiad, Cornelia defeated, he asked it of Ingrid, Felix and Sylvain. His childhood friends, still dear to him. In Derdriu he found the courage to beg Annette and Mercedes, the former having given her father to the kingdom, the latter preparing to slay her own brother in its defense. Before Merceus he went to Ashe, who had felled his own father, and after he went to Dedue, who had stood by him always; who had been willing to face the executioner’s axe for his king. 

All amends made, all friendships restored. The trust of his comrades regained. 

Save one. 

Byleth was happy for him, of course. But now she lay in her cot on the eve of battle and he still had not come to her. Tomorrow they would storm Enbarr. Tomorrow could very well be their last day of life, and Dimitri still had not come. 

She ached because of it. Questions spun wildly behind her closed eyes. Was it because she was not from the kingdom? Did he not perceive her to have sacrificed enough as their allies had? Was he afraid of what she might say? 

It hurt, after everything, to be so totally ignored. Before it had been a give and take, a back and forth between ruddy-hot or icy-cold. Now there was nothing at all.  

He had touched her, taken her body and made her his, and unintentionally made her a spectacle for all their allies. 

Then there was the matter of her unresolved… attraction. 

She had always found him handsome, had nearly gotten herself rendered in two with a greataxe once because she was ogling his skill on the field. But simple attractions faded, attractions rarely survived the gambit he had put her through. 

What she felt for him was different, more enduring. She feared she would be crushed beneath the weight of it. 

Byleth cringed to think how out of control the whole ordeal had become. All it would have taken to prevent this was one simple word, and she hadn’t even come close to saying it that first night. Or any night after. Each night he had come for her she had welcomed him between her thighs unabashedly, and now she was living with the consequences. She could blame no one but herself. 

It was obvious that he did not return these feelings. And even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. She was the lowborn child of a mercenary. He was part of an unbroken line of royalty, lineage easily traced back to the first king of Faerghus. 

Huffing. Body buzzing with nerves for the battle to come, she sat up on her cot. If she could not sleep then she would make use of herself, any good tactician would. She would go over her maps once more, triple check her formations. Everything had to be perfect, Edelgard would fall to no less. 

A low wooden table awaited her across the spacious tent she was allotted. It was a sprawl of papers, ink pots and miniature lions and eagles. The Sword of the Creator leaned against it. Byleth moved it aside and sat on a cushion, running her hands over the comforting texture of pressed parchment, divoted with the tips of a half dozen quills. 

With a snap of her fingers a nearby lantern guttered to life, and she studied her maps by its dim light. 

She was poring intensely over a map of Enbarr’s inner city, when someone sidled into her tent uninvited. So enthralled in her strategizing was she, that Byleth did not notice the man’s shadow until he spoke. 

“Professor—

She jumped to her feet, fumbling for her sword. 

“Professor, wait! It’s only me!” 

Byleth froze, knuckles white around the hilt of her blade which had begun to glow in preparation for combat. The voice was familiar, though its owner was still cloaked in darkness. From the shadows of the tent flap King Dimitri stepped into the low, flickering light. 

Byleth relaxed, brows knitting in confusion as she dropped her defensive stance, sword dimming. He was dressed down to a navy doublet with lions embroidered over his chest. His trousers with simple black velvet and his hair was tied back from his face in a small tail. She had not seen him out of his armor since before Garreg Mach had been destroyed. 

Somehow, he still looked regal. 

“King Dimitri, how may I be of service at this hour?” Her voice was measured. It was well past midnight, he should have been resting. And she still was uncertain of how to manage her feelings towards him. 

“I—

He stammered, a flush spreading high over his fine cheekbones. 

“Well um—

His eye was averted to the ground as though… 

Byleth glanced down. She was wearing her usual bedtime attire; a chemise of grey silk. Though it was not sheer, it left little of her figure to the imagination. The swell of her hips, the slope of her breasts free of their armor. 

Going pink from her scalp to her toes, she stormed over to her cot. Nabbing a blanket to drape over her shoulders, maintaining her dignity as best she could. 

“What do you want?” She turned to face him, her patience wearing thin. 

Her expression must have been fierce, because Dimitri diverted his gaze once more. Speaking to the ground he said, “I… I have made amends with everyone else, for how I behaved. But you…”

Her green eyes narrowed, “Me.” 

Swallowing, he found the courage to meet her gaze, “I did not know how to even begin to address what I did to you, professor. I’m sorry I have waited so long, that was unacceptable of me.” 

Shame hung heavy around him, and he looked as though he wanted to flee back into the night.

What he did? She puzzled over it for a moment. He sounded so severe, and it occurred to Byleth that the two of them might have very different interpretations of what had occurred between them. He had been half mad each time they met.

“What is it that you did to me, Dimitri? I want to hear it from your own lips.” She pressed, doing her best to keep her expression neutral. 

“Of course. I owe you at least that much. ” he replied, tone grim, “I—

His voice cracked, like the words were locking in his throat, “I caused you immense emotional and social distress because I… I forced—

Byleth shook her head, verdant waves falling free around her shoulders, “No.” 

“What?” 

“No, Dimitri. Nothing was forced.” She said with conviction.

Looking stricken, the young king struggled for words, “I— professor, I took you so carelessly, I was so barbaric, and then I let those rumors take root and tarnish—

“The true rumors?” She countered, “That I had entered into a consensual albeit unconventional sexual relationship with my former student?” 

Lips parted, he blinked dumbly, unable to find his voice. 

“The rumors were frustrating Dimitri, but less due to the content and more because I had to listen to my friends whisper behind my back about our torrid affair while you ignored me like an inconsiderate, egomaniacal bastard until the next moment you wanted to get your dick wet!” 

Panting from her sudden tirade, she watched Dimitri deflate. A man of massive stature, somehow her words had made him small. 

Swallowing, Byleth hugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders to steady herself, “You never forced yourself on me, Dimitri. And I let you have me, even knowing how… how far gone you were. I don’t want an apology for that,” she chuckled breathlessly, cheeks coloring, “I quite liked that part actually.”

The bruises, the sweat, his cum between her sore thighs, she would trade those memories for nothing. Taking a sudden interest in the floor, she wondered if she’d ever feel those things again.

Flushed, Dimitri asked softly, “But there is something, isn’t there?”

“Hm?” She looked up through the greenish fringe of her bangs. 

“There is something you want me to apologize for?” He took a careful step closer. 

A lump had formed in her throat sometime between his foot lifting and finding earth again. How could she say it without giving herself away? It was not wise to risk such emotion on the eve of battle. And yet, in this moment, her King stood close enough to smell, salt and wind, torn earth and man . 

She could not help herself, she met his stare once more and bared herself, “Even before this bloody war I found myself drawn to you, Dimitri.” He drew in a sharp breath, but she did not stop, “When I found you in Garreg Mach all those months ago, I didn’t find the prince of five years passed. I found a man, and it all came back which such intensity I… I tried to ignore it. That didn’t work very well, though.”

Giving the faintest of smiles she continued, “That night when I went to you… what we did… I had never wanted anything more. I knew it was wrong but Goddess— then it happened again, and a third time. It wasn’t the sex that hurt me Dimitri, or the rumors, it was how you ignored me between each tryst.”

He nodded head bowed in shame. 

“The point I’m trying to make,” she whispered, edging closer, bracing for refusal but praying for the opposite, “I could deal with the coldness then, because you were not yourself. But then you came back to us, and despite everything I feel for you, you ignored me. Even once you reconciled with the others, you left me out.” 

Letting out a shuddering breath, he whispered into the narrowing space between them, “How you feel for me?” 

Byleth could see the awe in his eye, how the flicker of the lantern made his iris seem to swim, handsome mouth parted in anticipation. But she gave no further explanation, it was his turn to give something now. She had laid out as much as she could. 

“I… the reason I did not come to you until now is because I feel the same. I could not bear the thought of having hurt the person I— I care for most in this world. I was sure you must despise me. Now I see it was a mistake to wait so long.” 

Somehow they were chest to chest, face to face. She could taste him in the air between them, see the carefully done stitching of his doublet. Her shaking hand reached out to stroke along the length of one lion, but Dimitri caught her wrist. 

“Professor?” His lips were parted, eyes wide with question and apprehension. 

Byleth let the blanket drop into a pool at her feet. She ran her free hand up the length of his torso, fingers stopping to play at the top button of his doublet, “This could be our last chance, my King. Let us not squander it.” 

This time is was she who took the initiative, crushing her mouth to his in a deep kiss. Broad palms found her waist, pulling her close as he moaned into her mouth. She could already feel the hard press of his cock against her hip, it made her shudder in anticipation. 

When they broke apart panting they made quick work of Dimitri’s doublet and trousers, relegating them to the floor along with Byleth’s forgotten blanket. The Tactician stumbled backwards toward her cot, dragging Dimitri along with her by the band of his smalls. He was beautiful in the low light of the lanter, the flickering flame catching casting shadows over his musculature. 

Byleth sat on the edge of the cot as Dimitri leaned over her, his lips brushing patterns into the pale skin of her shoulders and neck. Her hands roamed his torso and back, feeling how his muscles rolled and flexed. When his teeth grazed her throat she gasped and oriented him back into another wet kiss. When they parted she bit her lip, pupils blown wide with lust. Her heart thundered and her cunt ached. With hasty hands she yanked her chemise over her head, leaving her completely bared to him. 

Dimitri huffed, eyes wandering, lingering over her breasts, “Professor…” 

She shook her head, “No, it’s Byleth now. Call me Byleth.” 

Standing up she kissed him again, his hands wandered over her. He cupped her ass, then dragged his fingers up her ribs to her breasts. He seemed enamored by them, and his touch was gentle but firm. She sucked in a sharp breath when he tweaked her nipples, smiling against his mouth. 

“Where did you learn that?” 

He hummed and did it again, “I’ve thought about this a lot.” 

She kissed his throat in answer and trailed her hand down his abdomen, following the trail of fine blonde hair past his waistband until she took firm hold of his cock. He nearly squawked at the sudden contact and Byleth stifled a laugh as she began to gently stroke him. 

He was velvety and hard and pulsing in her palm. It made her feel hot, flush all over, and he was still teasing her breasts. She kissed up the column of his throat, standing on her tiptoes to nip at his jaw then kiss his lips once more. 

Every tryst they had shared up to now had been fast and brutal and he had always led them, tonight would be different. If there was a chance of death come morning, then they would spend the night in slow, easy, ecstasy. They deserved that much, after everything. 

Byleth shifted their bodies so Dimitri’s back was to the cot, then she helped him out of his smalls, freeing his cock so it could bob eager and red between them. She stroked him again, smearing clear beads of precum over his shaft and making him moan her name.

“ Byleth .” 

The sound of it spoke by his voice, low and sweet and reverent, sent a jolt of flaming arousal straight to her core. 

Wordlessly, she pushed him back onto the cot and settled over him, crouching over his middle. 

“I want to try something,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss a trail across his chest, “But you can’t come yet, okay?” 

He nodded, eye once more trained on her chest. His boyishness made her smirk and flush. Then she shifted positions, flipping around so that her ass wiggled in his face and his dick bobbed in hers. She wasted no time in pressing a kiss to his crown, then her tongue, tasting the saltiness of him. 

Dimitri startled and froze for a breath before he seemed to understand, and Byleth nearly collapsed when he gripped her hips and licked a long stripe over her pussy, tongue teasing at her folds. 

“Ah,” she panted, “A— at the top, there’s— oh!” He found her clit without further instruction, fingers circling as he worked enthusiastically with his lips and tongue. 

Satisfied that he knew what he was doing, Byleth took the first few inches of his cock into her mouth, dragging her tongue along the underside. She felt Dimitri huff into her folds and his hips tilted upwards, the head of him bumped the back of her throat and she gagged slightly, pulling back. 

Spit dripping from the side of her mouth she stroked him again, then dove down once more, hand working furiously over the inches she couldn’t swallow. 

At her rear Dimitri’s tongue lapped her entrance and she felt two fingers beginning to join in. She hummed around his cock and felt it twitch in her mouth. He was getting close. 

Pulling off, she kissed the purpling head of him and gave his balls a gentle, massaging squeeze. Then she sat up, leaned back, and allowed herself to savor his mouth for a moment. His tongue parted her folds, two fingers circled eagerly around her clit while another pressed into her opening, thrusting shallowly, prepping her for what would come next. 

It was hot and wet and any unfortunate soldier to pass the tent would know what was unfolding within. Her breath grew shallow and her noises erratic as he pushed deeper and circled harder. Lewd, wet noises filled the tent and Byleth’s entire body felt awash in flame, her cunt fluttered and tightened and she rocked back onto his face. 

The orgasm was short and tight and did little to take the edge off, but she still squeaked groping at her own breasts as his tongue and fingers fucked her through it. 

She didn’t allow herself a moment to recoup once is was through. There was still a king to be serviced, and she wanted to see his face when she made him come. Sticky with sweat she spun herself overtop of him once more face to face with him. His eye was nearly black with need and his face with shiny with her come. 

“Fuck.” She breathed, because his hair was tousled and his cock thick and insistent against her ass. She’d never seen him look so utterly depraved before, soaked from eating her pussy and half mad with need. 

He didn’t look anything like a king. 

Byleth snaked a hand behind herself and positioned his needy cock at her entrance, “Are you ready, Dimitri?” 

With a hard swallow, he nodded and she sank back onto him without further pretense. They moaned in unison, and Dimitri’s fingers dug hard enough into her hips to bruise. The pain only spurred Byleth on. 

Wanton, she didn’t bother with any slow pretense. She was soaked and filled to the brim, and oh so eager to feel her king moving under her. Throwing her arms behind her head, she gnawed on her lip as his eyes followed the steady sway of her breasts in time with her hips. 

“Good?” She panted, because Seiros was it sure good for her. Dimitri was a big man in every way, and sitting astride him  allowed for her to feel that size more acutely than ever before. 

“So good.” He groaned, eyes rolling as his rough, broad palms pawed at her hips. Guiding her to a more strenuous pace, “You feel so good, Byleth.” 

She faltered at the sound of her name on his tongue, she felt molten, more fiery than Ailell. There was nothing like it, the sound of her name breathed by the man beneath her at the height of his pleasure. 

The lewd slap of his balls against her rear filled the tent. Accompanied by the wet sound of their joining, combining into a carnal symphony that only carried them higher. 

Shutting her verdant eyes tight, Byleth leaned back, allowing herself to simply feel as her muscles began to bunch up. Heat pooling between her legs and tension in her back. She could feel Dimitri’s cock swelling within her, and knew that he would surely follow close behind. 

“I’m going to come.” He panted, voice hoarse and urgent. Perhaps he was ahead then, it hardly mattered, she would follow him over. 

Byleth buckled forward, bracing herself on the bunched muscles of his chest. Meeting his icy eyes she bid softly, “ Inside. I want it inside.” 

And that was enough to send him careening over the edge. Byleth watched entranced as Dimitri’s handsome face scrunched in pleasure. She felt his cock swell and stiffen within her and then she felt a rush of wet warmth between her legs. 

Cursing, she ducked her head into his chest and followed him over. Dampening her moans into his flesh as he fucked her through his orgasm and into her own. It was sudden and white hot, her vision flashing behind her lids and she went taut for a moment before all the tension was released in a great, shuddering wave. 

Collapsing fully onto his chest, they kissed through the aftershocks. Until his dick slipped from her in a rush of mixed fluids, and their heartbeats began to regulate. It was stupidly romantic, but she swore they pounded in unison. 

Caressing her hair, Dimitri shifted them so that they were more comfortably situated on the cot. Byleth tucked her head into his shoulder, smiling. 

“That was…” 

“Good, right?” She teased, tracing a finger over his sweaty pectoral. 

She heard him swallow and knew he would be like a blushing virgin once more. Her Dimitri.  

“Yes, very, very good.” 

“It’s little moments like these ones that we must savor,” she said. “We are at war and tomorrow—

Dimitri hushed her, hand gliding soothingly over her side, “I don’t want to think about tomorrow. You’re right, let’s savor now.” 

He was right. Tomorrow would come no matter how she might try to stave it off with prayers or worries or sweet dreams. This moment was what they had, what was assured to them. And if it was the only tender moment she ever shared with Dimitri, she would still be happy for it. 

“I think I love you.” She admitted. It was easy to do so into the dimness of the tent. 

The beat of silence which passed between them was nerve wracking, but when he replied his deep voice was replete with unrestrained emotion, “ I love you, too. ”

Shuffling in the dark they kissed again. Slow this time. Unrushed. 

All of it could be lost in Enbarr, at daybreak. But Byleth chose not to think of that when her king was so alive and lovely in her embrace. 

She loved him, she loved him, she loved him.

And he loved her in return. She could feel it in the press of his lips and the slide of his tongue, the gentle caress of his hands over her naked body. He loved her. 

Byleth gasped as he rolled her onto her back, hovering over her with his single eye begging permission. Already recovered in his virile youth. 

Laughing, she nodded, kissing him again as he angled into her pliant body once more. 

They had only until dawn but it felt like all the time in the world, so long as it was spent in the company of one another.