Chapter Text
Dimitri awoke to choked breathing. He shot up in the bed, turning Byleth over in his arms. He grasped her shoulder and shook as gently as possible. “Byleth? Please wake up, Byleth.”
She startled at his voice, her eyes rolling around frantically before settling on his face. Her eyes eerily shone in the dark, as if reflecting the stars peering from the open window. They often drew the curtains in the night to let the moonlight sneak in.
He stroked her matted hair. “Take a deep breath.”
She pressed her lips together, containing the bursts of gasps, and struggled to control her breathing. Byleth raised a shaking hand against his chest, aligning her inhales and exhales with every rise and dip of his body.
When she finally quieted, Dimitri wrapped her closer to him, cushioning her head with one arm. His hand scrambled around, searching for the fallen blanket. He draped it tightly around her back and settled back into the soft pillows, unable to offer anything other than his own staccato pulses.
How many nights did they spend, wanting to shield each other from the horrors of dreams?
He thought of the day when she collapsed in the Sealed Forest, reborn from a tear in the sky. When he was still a student, carrying his beloved professor away from the battlefield. All he could remember was panic growing with every footstep, the fear of being yet again helpless to loss. She was so warm in his arms, but he could not feel a heartbeat in her silent body.
After Manuela had taken in the professor, he had collapsed in the empty corridor, bile raising in his throat. He pressed his fingers into the floor, begging to feel something other than burnt flesh. Even Glenn’s body, long after his last breath, had felt warm in the fires. His own father’s cheek had been scorching. He continued to scrape his nails against the floor. How long does a body stay warm after death?
When Byleth had recovered, with green eyes instead of blue, he would continue to observe her for months after, wondering if she were just like him: a body without a soul. But each time she pressed her hand against her cheek in thought, each time she gave him a rare smile, he realized, perhaps she was more alive than ever.
And not just alive in the sense of simple existence, a prolonged pause, but in the sense of vibrancy - a melody of shifting notes transforming into something more.
Dimitri played with the strands of Byleth’s hair, rooting her into a rhythm she could understand.
Byleth finally murmured into his neck, “I’m sorry for waking you up.”
“You never have to apologize for that.” Dimitri pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Yes...yes, you’re right.” She brushed her lips in the hollow of his throat. “Tonight made me think of all of the students.” Byleth paused. “I saw them again tonight.”
Dimitri rubbed a hand between her shoulder blades in circles. He knew who she was speaking of.
Although most of the students had flocked to Byleth’s side when she awoke after five long years of war, there were still a few she could not convince. They were the ones who haunted her.
During one of their many sleepless nights, Byleth had confessed that when there were no other strategies, no other divine pulses left in her body to give, she had struck the final blow. Other than Edelgard, she had promised herself that none of her students would have to kill each other. These burdens, she thought, were her own.
And now, she lived with them.
She opened her glazed eyes. One hand traced down his shirt along his spine, following the line of each rising vertebrae. She brushed over old scars that once made him shirk, but now, made him shiver. Byleth’s other hand cupped his face, and he leaned into her touch. He held a breath, as her thumb lightly swept over his scarred eye. Dimitri had been so afraid to take the eyepatch off. To show Byleth what a monster he truly was. But her eyes had softened and asked for no explanation. She had pressed a kiss to the same spot she was now caressing, as if it were deserving, loved.
“I meant what I said, you know,” she mumbled after a few beats of silence.
“About what, beloved?”
“My little improvisation at the end of your ceremony.” Dimitri let out a chuckle and felt Byleth smile wryly against his skin. Her eyelashes fluttered, closing in exhaustion. She murmured, “I know you have been fearful of what is to come. That the actions of the past will torment your tomorrows. But I also know you, Dimitri. I know your vision, your heart, your strength. The Kingdom is in safe hands.”
She patted her own hand against his chest. Dimitri lifted it to his face, as if he could hide behind it, but ended up brushing his lips over her knuckles. His crooked fingers dwarfed her own, and couldn’t help but marvel at hers, awash with shades of blue moonlight. He swiped his thumb across her wrist.
It was ironic, he thought. Whenever Byleth’s hands clasped his own, they seemed to contain a strength Dimitri had always believed he would never have. But seeing their palms pressed together, holding each other aloft, Dimitri mused, “With our hands together, perhaps you are right.”
Was strength ever meant to be alone?
They traded a few words here and there, lost in their own universe, loving in a language they only knew. But before they even knew it, the sunlight had crept in the windows, sweeping the room in red to signal another day.
Dimitri reluctantly let Byleth go as she sat up. When she slipped out of the covers, his palm stretched outwards, indulging in the warm imprint she left behind on the bed. He let himself doze for a few more minutes.
Byleth entered the room in pristine ceremonial robes. With now practiced hands, she strapped a dagger into a hidden slit of her dark blue dress. Once secure, she plucked a flower from a bouquet in the corner and sank into the bed again. Dimitri could smell her rosewater perfume as she tucked the flower into his hair behind his ear. “I will see you after the gifting ceremony.”
Dimitri nodded. “I’ll come directly to your study. Should I send for Claude when it’s finished?”
“No, I’ll do that. Just try to enjoy yourself,” she laughed.
Dimitri snorted, but he leaned up and kissed her cheek. All the pompous ceremony would end soon, and the restoration of the Kingdom could finally begin.
As Dimitri had expected, the gifting ceremony was quite uneventful. Church attendants filed in and out of the doors, each accompanying a representative or carrying goods from far territories. As per tradition, which quite frankly, Dimitri was long sick of, the newly coronated king was to receive a litany of offerings as symbolic gestures of goodwill. But Dimitri shifted in his seat, feeling restless after hours of exchanging trivial pleasantries and gratitude.
You call yourself a king? A selfish man hoarding material gifts that he doesn’t deserve? Glenn snarled.
Dimitri’s head throbbed. He wanted to stare into the distance, to get lost in the stained glass windows. But he set his gaze on Shamir, Alois, and Cyril standing guard at the entrance of the room. Flags fluttered alongside each delegation, declaring a territory and crest. Flayn also flitted about in flashes of green, directing the exchanges.
Surely there were more effective ways of uniting a kingdom? Dimitri scanned the room, unable to readily recognize any faces, despite their noble lineages. Who could he trust? Who could he rely upon? Who was connected to their local communities? What were the immediate needs of the people?
But Dimitri’s questions of the restoration were interrupted as he warily eyed the ten large barrels of coffee rolling in. A minor Adrestian lord had sent them, but Dimitri hadn’t the faintest idea of what coffee even tasted like. He made a note in the back of his mind to give one to Hapi and distribute the other barrels to the church attendants today.
The coffee was soon followed by several chests worth of satin gloves. Dimitri provided a polite smile, and repeated the same words of gratitude. He slid his fingers over a pair, knowing fully well they were unsuitable for the cold climate of Faerghus. They were also far too small. None of them fit his own hands, and Byleth detested the feeling of gloves. He pressed them back into the box, wondering if Mercedes could make use of them for her stitching.
Dimitri was, admittedly, pleasantly surprised by a few gifts. A silver lance from the Edmund territory in particular caught his attention. He held the light weapon in his right hand, examining the lustrous mother of pearl decorating the blade. Dimitri couldn’t thank Marianna in person, as she had left with Ashe by her side last night, so he would have to send a letter. It was bittersweet to see his friends depart so soon, but their penned words would have to bridge the distance.
He was pulled from his ruminations once more as the last representative exited the room. Flayn approached and said, “Allow me to retrieve your crown, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Flayn.” He bowed over and lowered his head to her height. Flayn tiptoed, lifting the crown from his head.
She then furtively whispered into his ear, “I don’t suppose you will be taking all of the baskets of salted fish back with you to Fhirdiad?”
Dimitri laughed. He was planning on distributing the fish to a few rural towns, but surely a few baskets could be spared for her.
“You can expect a delivery in the coming week, Flayn.”
She giggled and bowed, before bouncing down the stairs, her footsteps light. Dimitri eagerly raised himself from the chair. He smoothed his royal blue cape over his shoulder and descended the stairs. Thanking a few of the attendants, he made his way to Shamir and said, “I have an appointment, but is there anything I can help with before I go?”
She shook her head, “No, Your Majesty. We will take care of everything from here.”
“Please excuse me, then. Thank you for your help today.”
He shook her hand on the way out, and exchanged greetings with Alois and Cyril. Dimitri then trailed through the hallway, ducking into the back stairwell. He could feel his footsteps grow heavy, drained from the idle hours of the ceremony. He trailed his hand on the linings of the stone, just like he used to do as a student, tracing the edges against his gloved fingers. Dimitri loosened the collar of his black suit, breathing in deeply to ease his nerves.
The last time Dimitri had properly spoken to Claude was in Derdriu. His uncle’s blood had stained the blade of his lance, and Claude had flown away on his white wyvern, handing over the Failnaught and the Alliance. Soonafter the war, Claude von Riegan was no more, and King Khalid had sent a delegation to the Kingdom requesting the establishment of proper relations between the two entities.
Dimitri couldn’t help but wonder if he ever truly knew the man who had fought by his side in the Academy. The man he had fought for in Derdriu.
Would he be meeting Claude? Or King Khalid?
But as Dimitri reached the third floor and turned the corner, he stopped. A woman stood in the middle of the hallway in front of Byleth’s door. Her face was veiled with a dark chainmail, and she held a small black box in her gloved hands. Her hair was severely tucked into a conical cap.
Dimitri frowned. Who was she?
She inclined her head, “The Agarthans send their greetings, Your Majesty.”
The Agarthans? Dimitri echoed in his head. He hadn’t the faintest idea of who they were. “Forgive me, my lady. I do not recall seeing you in the reception hall. Were you a participant of the gifting ceremony?”
His hands grew sweaty underneath his gloves. He eyed Byleth’s door, a lurking fear in his stomach.
The woman caught his look. “The Archbishop is not in, I’m afraid. My name is Bias. It will do you well to remember that. After all, you forced me into leadership after you deposed Thales in Derdriu.”
He gave her a bewildered look. Thales? But the only notable leader at Derdriu was Lord Arundel-
His days as a student seemed to engulf him. Lord Arundel’s church donations had ceased in 1174. In the following years, his uncle was always courteous, but stony during their encounters, as if he could not recognize the amicable years Dimitri and Edelgard had spent growing up together.
His mind continued to race. Solon had disguised himself as the librarian Tomas. Kronya was the monastery student, Monica. Cornelia hadn’t aged a day since Hapi had escaped from her as a child.
Was it so unreasonable that even his uncle was replaced by an imposter?
Did Edelgard know this?
Bias approached with small steps, but Dimitri remained frozen with his thoughts. She lifted one of his arms and deposited the box into his palm. She then adjusted her sleeves casually, picking at a string as if they were having a conversation about the weather. A small triangle of pale skin emerged, appearing nearly grey in the light, “You haven’t found out yet,” she muttered enigmatically under her breath before giving a withering laugh, “Have you all always been this incompetent? I can’t believe you defeated Thales. I alwasy told him those who believe in their goddess have always been like sheep, blindly following a fantasy.”
Although Dimitri was not well versed in magic, he could feel a cold energy emananting from her. His mouth grew numb. He had no explanation, but her magic felt dead, as if it were entombed in a grave long dried. Questions swarmed his head as he struggled for a coherent response.
Bias continued, cocking her head, “I suppose you wouldn’t know my people. Seiros erased our names, I’m sure. She likes to do that. Playing with stories.”
Dimitri blurted, in some mad attempt to say something, “You speak as if you know her.”
Bias laughed again, a brittle sound. “Ah, my mistake. I suppose you would know her as Rhea. But watch your attitude, boy. Anselma didn’t raise you this way.”
Something in him broke.
“Look at that wide eye,” Bias said, “That’s how Anselma always described you. Just a scared little boy.”
Dimitri could no longer see the woman in front of him. He was looking into a room, with a woman illuminated by the moonlight striking through the arched window. He could see the mole at the corner of her eye.
Patricia looked up from her needlework and gestured him in with a small wave of her hand. A ring glittered, beckoning. Come in, my love, she would say.
“Dimitri?” A voice pierced through behind him, but he could not look away from his stepmother, lest she should disappear in flames once more. His lips sealed shut, as if a whisper would shatter her.
“Dimitri!” The voice called again. But he could no longer hear. Dimitri lunged forward, his hand stretched outwards towards the shape of his stepmother, but he only grasped at air. Patricia disappeared in a piercing light, taken away from him once more.
He collapsed to his knees. She couldn’t be alive. He saw the coffin, lowered into a fresh grave. A void that would take what was left of his humanity with him. He had thrown in her favorite flower to the depths, watching the petals explode upon impact.
He saw the coffin, but he had never dared to look inside.
The box fell from his hand, cracking open to reveal a ring. It rolled across the floor, away from him. But he could not bring himself to care.
He just felt numb.
A pair of warm hands encircled him, lifting him up. He saw flashes of a familiar mint green and light glinting off of heavy armor, but he could not say a word.
Dimitri couldn’t remember when he resurfaced. All he knew was that Byleth gripped his hand tightly. Dedue was sitting across from him, preparing tea. Claude stood to the side with a tome in hand.
He could hear the idle conversation around him.
“How did that woman circumvent all of the monastery security forces? None of the soldiers on duty reported ever seeing a mage. She could have killed Dimitri.”
“She warped as soon as she saw Dedue and I approaching, so I assume that was her method of entry. She could have easily surpassed the guards that way. But even then, warp spells require accuracy. You must know your destination before even thinking about using that magic. She must have intimate knowledge of the monastery.”
“Well, the coronation week has been very publicized. A lot of people are filtering in and out with information, so I imagine it wouldn’t be incredibly difficult to find maps and schedules.” A pause. “I think the more important question is why didn’t she actually try to kill him? She just confronted him with a ring. Like a marriage proposal gone terribly wrong.”
A cup was set down with a clatter. “Is this a joke to you?”
“Sorry, Dedue. Bad timing.”
“But Claude does bring up a valid point. Dimitri was unarmed. She could have-” Byleth clamped her teeth shut, as if unwilling to acknowledge the possibility of Dimitri’s death. Dimitri used his thumb to brush across her hand, hoping to soothe her. That he was still here.
Dedue noticed Dimitri’s moving thumb and settled a cup in front of him, “Please have a sip, Dimitri.”
Dimitri could smell the chamomile wafting upwards. He raised his left hand shakily, letting the steam swirl upwards into his nose. It was funny how the foggy tendrils seemed to clear his mind.
As he lifted the cup, Dimitri noticed his sleeve was torn once more. He tried to recall his afternoon sessions with Mercedes, who had guided him through multiple broken needles with the patience of a saint. He would clumsily dip the needle in and out of the fabric, watching it miraculously come together whole once more. He would trace his jagged lines under the pads of his fingers, disquiet about the imperfection, but Mercedes had smiled. She said, “My mother had always told me the beauty of needlework is not to restore, but to mend. Maybe I’m speaking nonsense, but I always found that comforting. I hope it does the same for you.”
With each draw of breath, Dimitri could feel the needle dipping in and out once more. “I...I apologize. I am ready to speak with you all now.”
Dedue searched his face, but shook his head, “There is no need to apologize.”
Dimitri shakily nodded and finally realized he was gripping Byleth’s hand tightly. Fearing her bones would crack, he started to let go, but she grasped at his hand again, entwining their fingers. “I am grateful for you all. I’m not sure what would have happened if...” He paused, not wanting to entertain the possibility of anything else. He cleared his throat, “That woman outside is supposedly named Bias. She was made the leader of the Agarthans after Thales was killed in Derdriu.”
Claude looked up immediately at that, snapping the book shut. But he remained silent, waiting for Dimitri to continue.
“I am not sure who exactly the Agarthans are, nor who Thales is for that matter, but I suspect he assumed the guise of Lord Arundel, given he was the leader of the Imperial forces in that battle.”
Byleth frowned, “So Lord Arundel was an imposter? That sounds like-” Her face paled slightly and she persed her lips. “That sounds like Solon and Kronya.”
Dimitri added grimly, “And Cornelia.”
Dedue asked, “So these Agarthans can be assumed to be the allies of the Empire during the war. Was this all an attempted act of retaliation?”
Claude ran a hand through his hair. “I think you may be partially right, Dedue.” He looked exhausted as he settled at the table with the rest of them and folded his hands around a cup. His fingers tapped against the fine glass, and Dimitri lowered his eye to watch the ripples bloom from each beat, forming an impossible, bobbing web of curves and lines in the tea.
Claude said, “My arrival was actually delayed because there is a...situation in the border between the Goneril and Almyran territories.” He prefaced, “No one died or is hurt, but-” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t even know how to describe it. What looked like a javelin of light pierced the mountain range in Fodlan’s Throat. It was...devastating. There’s only a hole in the landscape.”
Byleth leaned forward in alarm, “A javelin of light? Who sent it? Why has no one alerted us about this?”
“The Fodlans and Almyrans were both too busy hurling accusations at each other to get the word out, but no one knows who unleashed the javelin. Nader and Judith are there to tide things over while I came to deliver the news to you personally. We cannot afford another war. Not after what we’ve been through. We just can’t.”
Dimitri felt cold once more, falling back in shocked silence. So this was the news Claude would bring. That the war he thought he could bury burgeoned in the dark, threatening to spill into the light.
Claude’s arms waved as he continued to speak, “The thing is, no human could have created that javelin of light, even with our crests, unless they somehow harness divine power. There is something else going on here.”
Dimitri added, much to his horror, “The timing is also unsettling. This javelin of light struck during the coronation, when morale would have been the highest. There would have been chaos.”
Byleth mused idly, “If these Agarthans have been able to disguise themselves as crucial figures, including the former Lord Arundel, without being detected for years, I can’t imagine these javelins of light are that far beyond their capabilities.”
Claude nodded in affirmation and leaned back into his seat, “And if they have disguised themselves as political figures, imagine how much of our history has been guided by their actions. If there were war between Almyra and Fodlan now, we would merely play directly into their hands. Play the parts of their narrative.” His eyebrows furrowed and he folded his fingers together. “Bias wasn’t here to kill you. I think she was here to gauge your reaction to the javelin of light; to see how the new king would respond to a declaration of war in the fledgling kingdom.”
Dedue frowned, “Or could this also be a call for attention?”
“Possibly, but if the Agarthans had planned all of this, they must have a larger agenda. Bias also said that all worshipers were fed by fantasies.” He shivered as he realized they echoed Edelgard’s words. “Another bloody war between an already weakened Fodlan and Almyra would certainly allow the Agarthans to dominate and eliminate the church for good.”
Dimitri, however, could not bring himself to disagree with the idea of church reformation. Although the goddess had granted him his wishes, and he had literally seen Byleth fuse with divinity, he had existed without the grace of the goddess for a long time. He was more often convinced the goddess was burnt away by the fires alongside his family.
Dimitri continued, “However, I do not see a clear connection as to why the Agarthans are so against the church. Bias said that Seiros had erased their names from history, but she also said the most curious thing...she said that Rhea is Seiros herself. How is that possible? Seiros exists in legends.”
Byleth and Claude exchanged a look.
Dimitri caught their glance and wanted to groan. “Based on your faces, apparently Rhea is Seiros.” How did they already know? “But that still doesn’t explain what the Agarthans have against Rhea.”
Byleth squeezed Dimitri’s hand. She said, “I'm afraid no one has the answers for that. We will have to investigate that further.” She turned to Claude. “I see why you chose to deliver the news personally, Claude, but we will have to act quickly before the public reacts.”
“I agree. I think this goes without saying, but we must be discrete about this for the sake of both our kingdoms.” Claude stared at Dimtiri. “We have to be careful with who we speak with, and how we speak about it. The truth will inevitably reach the public eventually, but even we don’t know the full picture. A misunderstood truth is more dangerous than a lie.”
The room went silent and Dimitri’s head pounded in angry bursts. He clenched his jaw.
Byleth mused, “The most effective way to defeat the Agarthans would be to eliminate the entire line of authority, but other than Bias, we have no idea how many other prominent figures there are. They could be disguised among us. We need as much information as possible without causing too much alarm.” She hesitated, “We don’t even know where to find them.”
Claude interceded, “I salvaged some contacts from Hubert’s former spy network. It’s not what it was, but there is surely some remnant information we can use.” He scratched at his head. “But if that’s a dead end, and as a last resort, I might be able to trace the trajectory of the javelin. I’ll have to recruit Annette and Lysithea though, if they’re still available.”
“They’re both here. Lysithea is doing research with Professor Hanneman and Annette is helping me rebuild the Academy.”
“Wonderful.” Claude stood with a weary wink, but he was quiet, as if choosing his words carefully. “We didn’t survive a war out of luck. This is our chance to end it for good.” He rapped the table with a weak knock. “We’ll reconvene soon once we know more.”
He closed the door softly behind him. The three sat in uneasy silence, weighed down by the uncertainty of it all.
Dedue spoke first, “Dimitri, the news we received today was certainly shocking." Dedue pursed his lips, as if rolling words around his mouth. "But I must ask. There was something else that woman said to you, wasn't there?”
Dimitri inadvertently held Byleth’s hand tighter. Dedue knew Dimitri too well, too deeply. He fixed his eye on a point on the table, unable to meet his gaze. His voice cracked, “She said...she said my stepmother sent her wishes.”
Both Byleth and Dedue stilled, sharing glances with each other. The fires seemed to erupt around Dimitri and Dedue again, searing their skin and blinding their eyes.
Dedue choked, “Surely, that is impossible.”
"The coffin was empty, Dedue,” Dimitri said hollowly.
Byleth whispered, “But the fires…”
Dedue closed his eyes, pain lacing his voice, “It must be a ruse.”
“Bias called her Anselma. That was her Adrestian name. Only someone who knew her well would know that name.”
Byleth slipped a hand into her pocket and asked, “Then do you recognize this ring, Dimitri? It was from the jewelry box.”
He picked it up gently from her fingers. He wanted to weep.
It was still intact, appearing just as how he had remembered it on his stepmother’s hand. The lilac gems still shone with an innate light, interwoven with clusters of miniscule sapphires. His father had commissioned it from a renowned metalsmith in Fhirdiad, bashfully claiming the colors reminded him of his new wife’s eyes.
Dimitri could hear his father scream behind him. He wanted to as well. The thudding in his head seemed to grow louder.
He confessed, “This was my stepmother’s.”
Dedue bowed his head. Dimitri closed his eye, “I do not know if this means that my stepmother is one of them, or if she has been held captive after all these years, but it seems that finding the Agarthans is the only viable solution,” he glanced at Dedue, “I am terrified of what the truth may reveal, but perhaps we will finally find justice for our people.”
Dedue lifted his face and held Dimitri’s gaze, a history of pain passing between their eyes. "I will follow you wherever, Dimitri."
There were many details yet to be finalized, but for the moment, Dimitri was grateful to be surrounded by the living. He could forget that his heart was still haunted by one last ghost.