[ No one is immortal. No one is invincible. Even as he speaks, he knows that keenly. But for better or worse, Dimitri is good at surviving where others might fall—he's determined enough to grow as strong as she needs him to be.

Though whether or not she'll stay around him at all is up for debate. She leans in like she's swapping secrets; it feels necessary, even when no one can walk in. The halls here are barren and ghostly in their emptiness, yet the void seems ready to absorb every errant word and whisper.

He speaks lowly in return, almost surprised by the question. ]

I lived and died at war. [ At home, his body count would be obvious. But here, he has to explain—few expected a king to be on the front lines. ] I've killed innumerable people in the process.

[ Some might argue it's different in battle, but blood is blood all the same. Besides—he pauses again, words lolling heavily in his mouth, but there's no reason to withhold the truth. ]

And—...By now, have you met Felix? We were close, before. One glimpse of my... depravity was enough to sever that. If you asked him about me now, he would only have warnings for you. [ Had she spoken to Felix rather than Sylvain, the message she'd received would've been very different. He stalls, shakes his head. ] I cannot claim to know the depths of your sickness. I will not condone hurting others. [ Truth be told, he's not even really imagining the full scope of what she's done. ] But I am not someone who needs to be protected from you.

[ In a sick, sad way—he understands. ]