Chapter Text
It is a cold evening in Duscur. It was nearing the end of the spring season, yet the nights are still so chilly. I bring a light shawl so as to not appear too cold, otherwise Glenn will tease and call me a fragile maiden again. I just can’t stand sitting alone in my tent.
The knights had set up camp for the night and tomorrow we’ll reach the capital of Duscur. Father had said, to the unassuming eye, that the land of Duscur appears barren, with only the rich minerals providing anything of value. Numerous nobles were looking to add the land onto Kingdom territory as means to expand their wealth.
He said that many nobles in the Kingdom fail to see the true gift of Duscur: a people rich in pride, diligence, and honesty. To simply absorb the territory into the Kingdom would be a detriment to its people. It was our duty, as the royal family, to create a reform that would benefit the people of Duscur and the Kingdom. A good king must see the strength of his people and provide protection so that his people may flourish. Because otherwise the strong will trample the weak.
As I make my way outside of camp, I can hear the banter and merriment of the knights around the fire. It was a long trip and I thought they would all be exhausted, but there they are, laughing and drinking as if it were a holiday. I start to think about my sister. It has been a while since she left, but I miss her so.
Is she well?
Sylvain teased me for giving her a dagger. I admit that I didn’t really explain the reason to her too well but I think El liked it. She didn’t reject it. Mother doesn’t talk about her anymore. Since El left, I haven't been able to talk to her. I wonder, is El laughing and smiling with all her siblings back at the Empire capital of Enbarr?
I find a rock to sit on and I see my stepmother. She’s on the edge of camp, away from everyone. What is she doing?
Suddenly I hear a scream.
A bright light erupts and sets the stable on fire. Dark figures warp in and begin to attack. The camp is in chaos. My stepmother runs towards the flames.
There are men in plague masks and black robes. I can’t recognize their symbols. The men in plague masks start attacking the knights.
Another flash of light.
Magic? No something different.
They didn’t attack with normal weapons. The knights are bleeding from their orifices, struggling to fight back in a desperate attempt to survive. The carriages are overturned, crushing bodies beneath them. The horses are frantic and starting to tramp over each other to survive but with no masters, they have no chance. Some type of miasma starts filling the air, making it difficult to breathe.
I see a knight vanish in a pool of blood and flesh.
Blood. There’s blood everywhere.
Where did they come from? Are they after father?!
I rush over to father’s tent. Brushing past the flames, I ignore the burns and cuts.
Along the way, I hear the voices of the soldiers.
“Ah, it hurts!” screams a man, his arm melting off his torso.
“Please! Have mercy!” begged a knight. A sword swiftly rammed into his chest.
“Gah, the pain! Make the burning stop! Help me… Somebody…”
I have to ignore them. I don’t want to but I have no choice. Father is in danger.
I see him struggling to fight a man in black. Father is injured and is barely standing. The man in black- father’s attacker- has a pale face and eyes that were solid white. Is this the face of a demon?
I cried out. Father sees me.
“D-Dimitri, please you must-!”
I can’t hear him. The cruel pale man laughs and attacks father. I see my father’s head as it separates from his body.
I’m overwhelmed. Fear? Anger? Sorrow? I can’t perceive the difference in these emotions. I’m paralyzed. If father couldn’t win, I have no chance.
The man makes his way over to me. He hits me with a spell and I can’t breathe.
Suddenly, someone riding a horse grabs me.
“Dimitri, we’ve got to move!” shouted the familiar voice. My lungs open up but my chest still aches.
The evil man laughs and unleashes another spell. Dark spikes appear from the ground hitting our horse and we go tumbling onto the ground.
The horse squeals as it struggles to stand, its legs melting underneath it. It struggles to avoid death in vain.
My savior desperately tries to shield me. His breathing is haggard and I can see the agony in his eyes. I realize that there is something warm and wet on my clothes.
Blood?
How could I not notice this blood? It was all over him.
The spell… It was melting the flesh on his back.
He grunts out a familiar name. A girl’s name. Eventually his breathing stops and it was then that I realized the identity of my savior.
It was Glenn.
I can still hear the screams of all the men in the camp. Unable to move, I lay helpless to the suffering around me. The men in black begin to warp away leaving the raging fire to destroy the camp.
Everything is silent.
Then suddenly, I hear voices.
“Why? Why are you still alive!”
“Burn in the eternal flames!”
“How are you still alive?”
“Give me back my life!”
“Avenge us, Dimitri!”
“You must avenge us! Avenge us! Those who killed us… Tear them apart! Destroy them all!”
“Make them pay!”
“You don’t deserve to be here!”
Then everything goes dark.
A tender voice breaks the silence.
“-ear. Wake up dear.”
Dimitri opened his eye as a blurred figure hovered overhead. He blinked.
Who is this?
A warm, gentle hand begins to stroke his cheek. It is a familiar sensation; one he has experienced many times. Instinctively, he reaches out for the other’s face. As his vision came to focus, he realized he was looking into the face of his wife.
“What is it, beloved?” he asked softly.
She smiled, trying to hide her concern.
“You were tossing in bed, dear.” She took his hand and nuzzled it to her cheek. “Were you having another nightmare?”
Is that what had happened?
He looked around. It was their bedroom. He was in bed with his wife. Duscur was miles away. Yet his body felt so tense, like he has just come back from the battlefield. It must have been a nightmare.
As he rose to sit up, he felt a sharp pain on his shoulder. He grimaced. It was that old wound again-the one that should have healed long ago.
As if following some kind of command, many of the other old wounds began to sting as well. The scars on his back for Dedue, the knife on his chest from that girl, the sword wounds from those orphans at the monastery, and countless others. All stinging at once.
He felt paralyzed for the second time this evening.
Byleth shook her head.
“What have I told you, dear? When you feel your aches, tell me ” She sighed and reached over for the healing staff she kept towards the bed. A light flick and the warm sensation engulfs him, relaxing his muscles. In an instance, the pain throughout his body disappears and he feels like himself again. There was still some numbness in his arm, which was unusual.
“I did not wish to trouble you,” he said, rotating his shoulder. “It’s rare for these old wounds to act up all at once.”
She smiled.
“You would never trouble me, love. Do you need any of the salves?” He shook his head. When he at last felt comfortable, he turned over to kiss her on the forehead.
“Thank you, my beloved,” he said tenderly. She nodded and laid her head on his shoulder.
She was warm. Her soft hands gently stroking the back of his head. At times like this, he had no desire to go back to sleep. He leaned in to give her a deeper kiss and she reciprocated, heatedly. With her hands, she pulled him in for a long kiss. His heart began to race. In truth, he wanted to do much more than kiss her. He wanted to express the full extent of his love. From the way her body rubbed against his, it was clear she wanted to express something similar.
He broke the kiss. As much as he wanted to, it was unwise to exhaust themselves before morning, given their age.
On the balcony, he saw a faint glimmer of light.
“Look, my beloved.” he said, pointing to the direction of the light. “It’s sunrise. Why don’t we take the opportunity to enjoy it together?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I would like that”
He grabbed his heavy cape and the two walked on to the balcony. The sun was barely visible in the East but the air was not chilly, especially compared to the north. Dimitri wrapped the cape around both him and his wife as they sat out and watched the light rise.
Byleth took her warm gentle hands and started stroking his beard.
Hard to believe that it's been 30 years since that terrible night in Duscur, he thought, holding his wife close to him.
So much had changed. Fódlan had become a united front under the banner of the Holy Kingdom. The Empire and the Alliance were both gone, their territories absorbed under the banner of a new Fódlan. With Byleth as the new Archbishop, the Church of Seiros also had undergone major reforms. And now, Dimitri was King over all Fódlan.
Some days, it still felt unreal to him.
When it was first created, there was much fierce debating on how to handle the new united nation- which noble houses to dissolve, how to negotiate new international treaties, the welfare of the general populace. Still to this day, there was so much new information to process. For some decisions, change came easier than others.
One such argument was on the subject of the new Kingdom capital. With the Kingdom encompassing all of Fódlan, it made no tactical sense to keep the capital in Fhirdiad. It was difficult for the new governors and noble heads to travel through the rough terrains of the north. He knew and yet it pained Dimitri to leave Fhirdiad.
It was his home- the land of his birth. He did not want to leave it again- not after having to leave it for 5 years.
Yet it was necessary for the good of his people.
So, after much fierce debating, it was agreed to have the new Kingdom capital closest to the center of Fódlan, in Garreg Mach.
It was the most logical choice: after all, Garreg Mach was a solid fortress against invaders. It was meant to be the home of the Archbishop. It had the perfect mix of all the former territories and countries. It made travel between the different regions easier and there was still a steady influx of pilgrims, merchants, and various other travelers in the city. Many of them came to offer their support to the King and to hear the preachings of the Archbishop.
His beloved…
Over the years, she became so much more expressive. Laughing, joking, frowning- one would not recognize the “Ashen Demon” who had coldly slayed her enemies as a mercenary. And then there was her smile, gods, her smile was the most beautiful thing to behold.
Though she still struggled in sharing some emotions. Her tears were rare. Occasionally, they would talk of the old days- days at the Academy, the war, of friends lost and gone. Some nights, she too would have dreams. She would think about Edelgard and Hubert. He knew that she caries the guilt of not being able to save them.
It seemed like time barely touched her. Twenty years later and she was still a strong and capable fighter, as well as a kind and loving woman to everyone around her. Though parts of her hair were starting to turn gray and there were several lines on her face here and there, Byleth was still such a beautiful woman to him.
Dimitri- on the other hand- was beginning to feel old. They had celebrated his birthday a few days earlier and now that he was over 40, he was pushing past the prime of most knights.
Though he was still powerful, his reaction time in mock battles had slowed down significantly and his body felt a lot heavier. He had aches all the time now, from his legs to his arms to his back- especially his back. His movements were hindered. People said otherwise, but he knew his body. He didn’t want to admit that his wife’s healing spells and salves were starting to become a daily routine. Then there were nights, like this night, where the nightmares would come and interfere with sleep, making him feel even worse.
The nightmares…
He had experienced a great many over the past few weeks. He knew they would never fully go away. He knew they would haunt him until the day he died. There was a period, shortly after the war, where they came almost nightly. Yet as the years passed, they became less and less frequent. So why was it now that they were starting to return?
A familiar knock on the door disrupted his thoughts.
“Your Grace,” said Dedue, tersely. “The Archbishop’s presence is required in the Cathedral.”
“My presence-? Oh no. I forgot it was today,” sighed Byleth. She got up from his arms, gave him a quick kiss, and walked back into the bedroom.
“Coming Dedue! I just need to prepare,” she said, searching for her ceremonial robes and garments. She began to dress.
Dedue acknowledged her response and went to attend to his other duties, his armor clanking along the way.
“We lost track of time,” said Dimitri, amused. He had forgotten as well.
Today was the 25th day of the Ethereal Moon, the celebration of Garreg Mach Establishment Day. It was the day when the monastery’s holy chambers and sacred artifacts were open to the public. There would be thousands of guests within the monastery from all over Fódlan as well as beyond its borders. With so many guests, it created a good excuse to reunite with old friends.
Unfortunately, it was also the busiest day of the year for the Church.
“And it was such a lovely morning too,” she sighed, fixing her hair. It was clear she was disappointed with the interruption. Dimitri couldn’t help but smile.
“I agree,” he said, tenderly wrapping his arms around her. “I would love nothing more than to spend the entire day with you, my beloved-but the Archbishop cannot be absent for the celebration. The people will take it as an omen.”
She nodded and he continued.
“This is a busy day for the Archbishop- organizing the choir, greeting the heads of the other churches, preparing for the mass-”
“What will you do today, love?”
“Me?” He asked. He had not put much thought into his own plans for the day. “There’s not too much I really can do aside from greeting the guests. There might be some work I could handle in the council room. This is far more a day for the church than for the politics of the Kingdom. Perhaps I’ll take a walk around the monastery or sneak in some extra training.”
“Don’t break the training dummies,” she reminded nonchalantly.
“Come now, I haven’t done that in a long time and you know it.”
She laughed. It was the greatest sound in the world.
As he donned his ceremonial armor, she bid farewell and walked down the corridor, leaving him to his thoughts.
The nightmares had come back, and when they did, they brought back ugly old thoughts.
How he needed to avenge the dead, even though there was no one to exact vengeance upon.
How his actions were insufficient in the wake of changing the world.
How he didn’t deserve to be happy.
He was tired. There was much to look forward to in the upcoming day and he refused to waste it moping on old thoughts. He tied his hair back and walked out.