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“You should have killed me.”
It’s the first thing Edelgard says to Dimitri when he enters her cell. His retinue of armed guards tries to rush in behind him. He waves them off with a carefree hand.
“Murder is not the most effective method of redemption,” says Dimitri. “I would know.”
“For you, perhaps,” says Edelgard. “But I do not deserve redemption. Nor do I desire it.”
“You are my friend,” says Dimitri. “And you will always be my friend.”
Despite the way those words cause her heart to stir, Edelgard fixes him with a gaze as cold as she can make it. “I threw away our friendship long ago,” she says.
Dimitri holds her gaze, steady and unfazed. “You kept the dagger.”
Edelgard hates this. Hates the feeling of powerlessness, of being tied to a chair while Dimitri stands above her, looking right through her.
“I stabbed you with it,” she says matter-of-factly. The once pristine, cherished object was now stained with blood. That could not be erased. No matter how, belatedly, she was beginning to wish it could be. "Are you not afraid I will attack you again?"
Dimitri, to her annoyance, sports a smile on his face. “The more afraid you are, the more you know it is worth it.”
It was a line she used on him, once, many years ago. A distant memory in a Faerghus meadow, on an unseasonably warm summer day. She'd dragged him through the thorny thickets of trees, urged him to jump across a canyon and swing across a thick vine to reach the secret base she had found. When he stood, trembling, at the precipice, she’d said, the more afraid you are, the more you know it is worth it.
“Worth it?” says Edelgard, trying very hard to pretend as though she has forgotten the memory. “I doubt it. A king has better things to do with his time than to dally with a war criminal.”
“I’m trying to atone,” says Dimitri. “With the help of the Professor. Of everyone. To learn what life could be like, if we did not let the sins of our pasts dictate our every move.”
“Then atone for your sins on your own. Leave me to atone for mine in peace.” She can’t pinpoint why his presence flusters her so. Maybe the way his golden hair glints in the sunlight reminds her of better, brighter days. Maybe the eyepatch he now wears to shield the eye he lost while fighting the Imperial army reminds her of all the irreparable damage she caused, to Fódlan, and to their relationship. Dimitri, as he is now, is a mockery of everything she could have had.
“I think not,” says Dimitri. “I’ve been meaning to take a trip into town. And before you protest, I am the King, after all, and you must obey my orders.”
Edelgard bites back a sigh. She fixes her eyes on him for a long moment. He used to be so easy to read. Now, she can’t figure out what he wants.
“As you wish,” she concedes.
———
It is unusually warm and sunny for a day of the Verdant Rain Moon. They stroll through the capital, dressed as Kingdom knights to avoid recognition. Edelgard feels an illicit spark of joy, an emotion that surprises her. The streets have changed since she last resided here. As children, she used to drag Dimitri on frequent shopping trips. Whenever her eyes lay on a particular hairpin or floral adornment, he would immediately pull out his sack of gold and purchase it for her. And yet the dagger was the gift she remembered most fondly. Naively, he had given her a tool to cut a path to her own future, unaware of what that future entailed.
Now, as they walk side by side, followed loosely by the usual retinue of guards ready to strike her down at any abnormal movement, Edelgard catches sight of Dimitri’s eye through the thin gap in the armour, as strikingly blue as the sliver of sky visible through the dusty grey rainclouds. Edelgard looks up, and she cannot tell whether the clouds are coming towards them, or drifting away.
“It may rain soon,” she remarks.
“Yes, it appears so,” says Dimitri. “We should hurry on our way before it starts to pour. There is a place I would like to show you.”
“I see,” says Edelgard. She is reminded, yet again, that she is not in control of this outing, nor of her own fate. In another universe, perhaps this could be considered a date. In this one, she is merely the King’s prisoner.
They pass a street performer, surrounded by a crowd of children. She juggles fruits skillfully— two, three, four, then even five. When she finishes the show, the children clap, eyes wide with innocent admiration. After the street performer packs her things and leaves, a young, brown-haired boy stands on the street corner alone, without parents. He picks up rocks from the side of the road, and practices the maneuvers the performer had used. Unable to get the timing right, he bites his lip, looking close to tears.
Before she can stop herself, she approaches the child and kneels down next to him. “May I?” she asks, holding out her open palms. The child places the rocks in her hands. She throws them up into the air, and catches them in quick succession. “Like this,” she says to the child. “Watch closely.”
She is not sure how much time passes that way, with her demonstrating an art she thought she had forgotten. He asks questions, and she answers. He attempts the juggle, and manages to succeed, first with two, then with three.
“I think you’ve got it,” she says, and stands up with a quick pat to his shoulder.
“Thank you, Miss Knight,” he says, grinning from ear to ear.
She bows and takes her leave, returning to Dimitri’s side.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” he says. Though she can’t see his smile under the armour, she knows exactly what expression he has on his face.
As they walk among the last of the merchants’ booths in the town streets, heading further and further from the city centre, Edelgard finds herself gazing at a seller of jewelry. A pair of emerald earrings, in particular, catch her eye.
“I’ll take these,” says Dimitri before she can react. He trades the gold for the earrings, and hands them to her.
“You act much too fast,” she says. “I was not interested in acquiring them for myself. I remembered that they were selling these at the school grounds, a long time ago. They caught Dorothea’s eye, and she promised to save up so she could afford them. The next time I saw her, we were on opposing ends of the war I started. No matter how much I enjoyed my time with my comrades, back at the monastery, it wouldn’t have changed my ambitions.”
“Give them to her, then,” says Dimitri. “They are yours now. You can do what you want with them.”
“I can’t mend my past friendships on the King’s dime,” says Edelgard. “It’s not right.”
“You could earn your keep,” says Dimitri. “There are numerous jobs open in the prison.”
She ignores the suggestion, though she knows that she would have to follow such a command, if he issued it. She hates it. He may want her to live a full life, but there are some things she cannot— or rather, does not know how— to atone for.
They find the place where town meets forest. She follows him into the shaded darkness of the towering trees, and slowly begins to remember the path he is tracing. When they arrive at the edge of the cliff, pristine waters bubbling underneath the rocky edge, she takes off her helmet and looks at him. He takes his off as well, and a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
“The vine may not hold our weight with all the armour on. Come, remove those cumbersome layers.”
He removes his own armour piece by piece. She watches, half in shock that he remembers all of this, and half in self-indulgence at the way his muscles ripple, a pleasant sight. He’s gorgeous. He’s grown into himself. He’s a head taller than she is and she wants to test that strength, not on the battlefield, but in a playful tousle on the training grounds, axe and lance parrying back and forth. It scares her how much she wants what she should not have.
“Are you unfamiliar with Kingdom armour?” he asks. He steps closer and starts to undo it for her. She steps back.
“I know how it works,” she says, sounding flustered even to her own ears. It is beyond her how he can be oblivious to the effect he has on those around him.
With the armour off, Dimitri grasps a hold of the thick vine, and swings easily across the small canyon. He tosses the vine back to her and gestures for her to come. She holds on tightly and wraps both her legs around it. She finds herself closing her eyes, knowing she cannot swim, dreading the fall into the stream below. And then her feet find purchase on the grassy ground on the other side of the canyon. She heaves a sigh of relief. He takes her hand to steady her stumbling feet and smiles at her.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I don’t know how I did this when we were children,” she says, a little shaky. “It did not even cross my mind that I cannot swim. I was much more fearless back then.”
He grins. “The more afraid you are, the more you know it is worth it.”
He tugs her by the hand along the beaten path, until they reach the small clearing that she remembers. It’s dotted with red flowers. Carnations. He bends down in the grass and plucks one. Then stands back up and tucks one into her hair, just behind her ear. The colouring on his cheeks matches that of the flower.
“Do not tease me,” says Edelgard, heart pounding in her own ears.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” says Dimitri.
She looks around at the grassy clearing, the beautiful flowers, the tall trees. It is not raining yet. In fact, the clouds above seem to be parting, allowing more sunlight to filter through.
“So tell me. Why did you bring me here?” she asks.
“I thought you could use some fresh air after being cooped up for so long.” Dimitri turns to face her, his face half encased in the shadow of the tall trees.
“Why?” says Edelgard, raising her voice despite herself. The more questions she asks, the more his answers bother her. “Why do you care for my well-being at all? I brought war to Fódlan. I tried to kill you on numerous occasions. Please, do not cling to who I was in the past. I am no longer the girl you used to know.”
Dimitri takes off his helmet. Edelgard removes hers, too. They stare at each other for a long, drawn-out moment, full of words neither of them can conjure.
“I think you would have made a great Emperor,” says Dimitri. “I can envision it, just from watching you. You would appoint those you deemed worthy. You would hold your friends dear, and never forget those you had lost. You would nurture the growth of children, commoners and nobles alike. Those who survived would have been happy under your rule.”
Edelgard narrows her eyes. “Are you mocking me?”
Dimitri shakes his head. His hair has gotten long. Almost like it used to be when they were children. “No. I mean it. You see, the Professor— no, the Archbishop and I— we are working hard to create a land of harmony. It’s a tiresome, seemingly endless job. We could really use a skilled hand to help us. One like yours.”
“Your people would never accept me,” says Edelgard.
“I thought the same about myself," Dimitri responds. "But the people of Fódlan are recognizant of change."
She is familiar with his sanguine worldview and unswayable conviction. But her own desire to give in, to trust in that ideal, is what finally pushes her to the edge. In a burst of emotion, she says, “How could you expect me to say yes? I tried to change the world. I failed. How could you expect me to be content living in a world where I am perpetually haunted by my own mistakes?”
“There will be evils whether or not Crests exist,” says Dimitri. “Violence only gives rise to more violence. Should you have succeeded, new evils would have risen, and new troubles would have plagued your lands. We cannot fight fire with more fire.”
“I understand that now,” says Edelgard truthfully. “It is not as if I have never had regrets. As much as I dreamt of the siblings I watched die, I had constant nightmares about all of the friends I killed.” She swallows hard around the lump in her throat. “But I have walked my path for too long and too proudly to look back.”
“Then don’t look back,” says Dimitri. “Look forward. Walk with us.” He punctuates his point by putting his hand over hers. His skin is warm, and she is surprised to find moisture pricking at the backs of her eyes. He tells her she would make a good ruler, but she knows, deep down, that he is the one Fódlan needs.
“You’ve always been too optimistic for your own good,” she confides. “I could ruin all your efforts. I could stab you in the back again. I could— I could—”
Dimitri smiles. “You could. But I’d be willing to take the risk.”
“You’d stake it all— your entire kingdom— on one woman? Do you truly feel for me so strongly? It’s very naive of you to throw away everything you hold dear for a shot at romance.”
Dimitri‘s jaw drops, flustered. “It’s not— that’s not why I— you’re much more important to me than that, El. I simply—”
“I’m teasing you,” she says. With an unfamiliar heat in her cheeks, she says, “You should know that I would do the same for you. It may be too late. I don't have much to lose, and so perhaps this means nothing to you—”
"I know how dearly you hold your pride," says Dimitri, eyes going soft with hope, as it dawns on him what she is thinking. "That alone means the world to me."
"In that case," says Edelgard, but then finds it difficult to finish the sentence. Instead, she leans in close and kisses him. His lips are soft, warm, and familiar. The way he gently cradles the back of her head with his hand feels like coming home. Like rekindling the joyous flame she had once extinguished. When she pulls away, the satisfying way his cheeks flush a rosy red makes her think there are some things worth staying alive for after all.
“You had me worried,” says Dimitri. “Claude said he thought you would kill me before the words even left my mouth.”
Edelgard raises an eyebrow. “You wrote to Claude about your plans to court me?”
“They weren’t plans to court you,” Dimitri protests. “They were plans to— recruit extra help in rebuilding Fódlan.”
“Congratulations, then,” says Edelgard. “You succeeded on both counts.”
“That I did,” says Dimitri, and when he leans in for a second kiss, she gives it to him gladly. Overhead, the last of the darkened clouds part, giving way to a clear blue sky.