Chapter Text
Your Highness:
Should this letter be delivered to you, I will be satisfied, because the best has happened: you have lived, and I, your servant, have had some hand in the matter, no matter how slight.
Do not mourn my passing, Your Highness. A king does not mourn the passing of a groveling dog. You are the rightful heir of Faerghus, and you must keep your head high, for you are the people's hope.
Before my passing, I will fulfill your request. I will refer to you by your given name. Please excuse my insolence. I would not usually indulge it, but the professor once mentioned something to me in passing. I believe she said, "How he must miss hearing his name... There is no one left to say it."
Farewell, Dimitri. Should there be a way, I shall serve you from the afterlife.
Your servant,
Dedue
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Dedue, my friend:
A thief, that is what I have become. I have stolen these parchments and these inks with which to write. I have stolen this threadbare cloak wrapped around my shoulders. I have stolen the coins which have bought a single day of respite at this tavern.
And still I must steal more. Food for a day's journey, my father's cloak from the palace vaults, a unit of men who are mad enough to stand with me.
Everything has been taken from me: my father, my mother, the dearest memory of my childhood friend, my cherished days at the academy, my discerning professor, my throne and my kingdom and my people and even my name as I skulk in the shadows—and still that woman finds ways to take more from me, still I am losing, losing even though I already have nothing left. I am a walking corpse, driven by nothing but the memory of your sacrifice. It does not seem fair for me to surrender my life when others have fought so ardently for it, though I cannot see why they have done so. I cannot see why I should live at all.
Would that I had joined my father and my mother and the El that I remembered in death.
Dimitri
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Dedue:
I am sorry.
I beg you, haunt me no longer.
Dimitri
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Dedue:
You said that you would serve me beyond death, and now I understand.
I understand what you have been telling me from the very beginning.
No longer will I cower like a rat in the shadows. I will take up the lance of my father and avenge your fallen souls. I will appease your sorrow by soaking the roads of Enbarr with the blood of these traitors. Only then will you be laid to eternal rest, ending the torment of your ceaseless wandering.
Watch my path and the tread of my feet, old friend. For all the ones who have gone before, I shall forge a path to the afterlife.
Dimitri
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Your Highness:
I fear this letter may never find you, for you are a phantom in Faerghus. Yet I know you live, and still I will search.
I am well. Brothers from Duscur have graciously rescued me and treated my wounds. I have regained my strength and am ready to take up arms in your service once more. Your people cry for justice, Your Highness. May you ride out and meet them with dignity.
Your servant,
Dedue