Not only is Dimitri treated to every intimate moment, every kiss, every moan, every kind, whispered word, but he too is treated to Byleth's own view on all of them. His own feelings. The deep, rushing river of emotion that lay beneath the placid surface of the lake. How much Byleth felt, and how little he truly expressed.

How deeply he loved him. That he still does.

When he does awake, Byleth is pressing a damp rag to his forehead, rested in his lap. They both look... not the best. Byleth with the scrapes and claw marks from his attackers, and poor Dimitri from getting the brunt of their...meal.

"Dimitri." He keeps his voice low, knowing full well his head must be pounding.