[He takes that offered hand, helped up to his feet, though for a lingering moment his gaze lands everywhere except her face. His own feels so warm now, and he has to fight against the urge to look like a fool and cup both of his hands against his cheeks as if to calm himself.

Instead, he clears his throat, then realizes he’s left his sword on the ground. Ducking low while she dusts him off, it gives him a moment to adjust his thoughts while he grabs its hilt.]

I think that will be a long time from now after that display.

[A long time before he might overcome her in a real spar, far beyond these coming months, beyond the scope of the war. A thought that brings him pause. He had wondered what Byleth might do once all the bloodshed is finally over, once peace hopefully settles itself across the land. There are so many empty seats of influence to fill, perhaps she might take one of them, or will she continue mercenary work, or disappear into the background of history to live and long and quiet life next to some lake, fishing her days away?

He wonders, oddly, why that bothers him. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but Dimitri feels compelled to ask, and to ask now.]

Actually, do you mind if I ask you something? About the future, should we ever see an end to this wretched war.