#I really don’t know if Felix would ever truly forgive Dimitri for that even with his contentious relationship

[sleepy-bear-tm]

Before the Tragedy

[candlelight27]

Chapter 6: This Mask That I've Become

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans… (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: kissing in a church lol, tresspassing and etc... don't do that, kids

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 7065

AO3: This Mask That I’ve Become

A/N:  Thanks to @galamixx again for being my beta! It's hard, I know lol so I appreciate it a lot!!!

I hope you like this chapter! It was a bit hard cause I'm going into unknown territory, but I hope you enjoy it either way. Comments, likes, whatever is really really appreciated! Thanks for sticking around with this!

My dearest Byleth,

Your letters brighten my days, otherwise dulled by duties. I must ask for your forgiveness again, since I couldn’t answer any text message yet. Seteth is trying to help me, but he’s not well versed in technology either. The world is moving way too quickly for us to catch up…

Please, keep updating me with the news of our dear students. I’m truly happy to see them thrive and prosper in the continuation of their studies. All those stories you tell me remind me of good times, already gone… Times I wish to never forget. It’s a gift of the Goddess to be able to see them again, even though I must stay in the shadows of this lonely cathedral.

I know we mustn’t be seen together, but I long to see you. Please, visit us soon. Seteth wants to have tea with you, too. He’s much more cheerful now that he’s sure Flayn is safe and sound whatever she wishes to do.

The real reason for this letter is to inform you that I arranged an archive to keep all of our memories safe. I know I refused your petition at first, but after long hours of deep thought, I came to the same conclusion as you. It’s our obligation to ensure the safety of the continent and everyone who lived here, and if we lose our memories, we wouldn’t be able to do it. And in case we die… others will take on our legacy. Hopefully, you’ll be able to take a look at them soon, so you can add any necessary information. I’ll send them as soon as they’re finished.

I’m doing as you instructed: I’m writing reports and so are the other Nabateans.

Thank you for your dedication, Byleth. I’ll always be here for you.

Yours sincerely,

Rhea.

Sylvain and you were next to each other, leaning over the table in your kitchen. Your gaze was fixed on the careful strokes of Rhea’s quill. Ingrid wasn’t home, so told her you’d invite Sylvain over to study and finish that project ‒ which you hadn’t touched in months, if you were being honest. Of course, it was just an excuse. Instead of doing homework, you were chatting and conspiring among opened books about matters not related at all with university. Who’d rather do that when you were living a real adventure?

As you went over the letter for an eleventh time, Sylvain called your name expectantly. He had a bright gleam in his eye that screamed trouble.

“Do you know what day it is next Friday?” He asked, a tilted smile on his lips.

“It’s the 21st,” You answered. You took the letter with your index finger and thumb, and slowly placed it back inside the envelope.

“Yes and no, my dear friend. It’s the founding day of the Kingdom of Faerghus”, Sylvain pointed out. You raised your eyebrows, questioning. You already knew that, just as every other student; that day marked the date when lessons were interrupted. Typically, there was a week more to hand over projects and other requirements to pass the subjects, so some students went right back home, yet others stayed behind in their dorms until they were completely finished.

“So what?” You asked.

The redhead breathed deeply as he prepared mentally for what was coming next. He felt the weight of your eyes on him. Were you judging him? No, you weren’t, he was well aware of that, but he couldn’t discard all those doubts that bombarded him at all times. He felt the guilt running through his veins and he was second guessing his next proposition.

“I’ve got a plan,” he managed to say at last. That charming façade of his that made him always get his way had faded away. You tilted your head, unable to make heads or tails of Sylvain and prompting him to explain himself. He cleared his throat and continued. “That evening, a special mass is going to be celebrated, just like every year. It’s the perfect opportunity to sneak a peek of those documents.”

“The perfect opportunity?” You exclaimed, eyes wide open. “Sylvain, it’s going to be crowded!”

“Yes! That way, nobody will notice we’re hiding in the old confessionary booth! You know they barely use it anyways. Then, we get out when everybody’s gone, we go to Rhea’s office, find the documents and run away as far as we can.”

You blinked, once, twice, thrice. Sylvain was impatient to hear your opinion. He was jolting his leg up and down out of nervousness as you bit your lips, deep in thought. He already knew you had said you were in this together, that you'd help him find the truth, yet those were just words, not acts. He needed your reassurance once again, for deep inside his chest, against his wishes, he was expecting you to reject his idea, to ridicule him and leave him behind ‒ just like Miklan, like his parents. Because wasn’t that what always happened? He trusted someone, then they’d betray him for circumstances that he never could understand.

“Are you sure that’s not trespassing?” You frowned.

“Since it’s a religious building, I’m pretty sure it’s not,” he claimed. “There’s a right of devotion, or something like that.”

“You’ve thought of this carefully, haven’t you? It’s a solid plan.” You nod slowly. Solid and stupid. It could work, but it entailed a great risk.

“It is,” Sylvain said. His heart was pounding fast in his chest, waiting for your objections.

“What if somebody catches us?”

“We’ll say we forgot something”, he posed. “My phone, your purse, whatever.”

“Seteth won’t buy it”, you argued.

“But it’s me who you’re going with,” he pointed to his own face. “He’ll just think we’re there to bang. He’ll lecture us and won’t think about it further. My reputation precedes me, after all.”

“Okay, fine”, you yielded easily. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” You stretched your arms, thinking about what you were getting into. However, for some indefinite reason, you weren’t worried about it. You were more worried about him.

Sylvain was relieved but, as always, uneasy with his own actions. Was he asking too much of you? Was he pushing your limits? It was hard to act all cool and mighty around you when he could barely control his own feelings and the messy train of thought that always accompanied him.

“I’ll drive us there,” Sylvain commented when he noticed he had been silent for a while. Even though you nodded and tried to smile, you were worried about Sylvain. You noticed him getting lost in his own thoughts, and it was worse that he had the horrible habit of never telling anyone what tortured him inside. Despite wanting to ease him, you couldn’t do anything but reassure him that the plan will go well. Executing it was the only thing left to do now.

--

Sylvain double parked right in front of your building. He was well dressed to go to the Cathedral, with a white button-up, dress pants and boots. His parents might be there, after all, and he didn’t want to piss them off. Sylvain tapped the wheel with his fingers. It was too early, but he couldn’t wait at home — He was restless, so he had driven to distract himself. Still, that didn’t make him calmer, so he was restless in front of your window instead.

Impatient and anxious, Sylvain grabbed his phone out of his pocket and wrote a message. There was a reason for his uneasiness: he was going to ask you out. Or he was going to reiterate his love for you and see where things would go from there.

Torn between his own actions, his happiness, and if it might make this whole timeline shenanigan more confusing for you, he couldn’t fall asleep and instead dwelled on it for hours. Something had to change. Pitying himself and being a hollow piece of shit to almost everyone only deepened the wound in his soul.  He plucked up the courage and decided he’d do things the right way from then on. And, first, he had to confess to you a couple of things ‒ a sort of declaration of intent.

Sylvain wouldn't ask Ingrid for advice, because she would think this is another one of his dating escapades. She never takes him seriously. Dimitri always understood him, but was clueless. So was Felix, who would be even more unwilling to help. Claude would give him the best piece of advice, but he refused asking the Almyran out of pride. And he was sure Dorothea would tell him to fuck off. So he had only one option. His usual first option, because she knew him like the palm of her hand and always spoke her mind: Mercedes.

Sylvain 15:10 : Mercedes, pls, help me ☹

Mercedes 15:10 : What’s wrong, Sylvain?

Mercedes answered almost immediately. Her attention eased his nerves. Sylvain looked at his watch; he had about twenty minutes left until you’d meet him and sort out his agitation.

Sylvain 15:11 : It’s about you-know-who

Sylvain 15:11 : I need your advice

Mercedes 15:11 : You-know-who finally confessed?

Sylvain 15:12 : No, but I might?

He had finally worded it. A weight lifted off his shoulders. Mercedes would know if it was madness or in fact it would work, right?

Mercedes 15:12 : What are your true intentions?

Sylvain 15:12 : I think I’m in love, for real

Mercedes 15:13 : Oh dear

Mercedes 15:13 : At first I thought you weren’t that serious

He could hear the voice of Mercedes exclaiming, as he had for years. He wasn’t surprised. How many times has he toyed with the idea of love only to discard it? And he had never ever been serious with anyone. If somebody showed the littlest interest in him, he’d dismiss that person and do terrible things to them before they’d do them to him.

Mercedes 15:13 : I told her to be careful around you because you play with women’s feelings

Sylvain 15:13 : I’m not angry, can’t blame you for speaking the truth

Sylvain 15:14 : But you’re the worst wingman ever, tbh

Sylvain 15:14 : Still love you tho <3

Mercedes 15:14 : There is something positive!

Mercedes 15:14 : You-know-who hasn’t run away yet! You two grew closer instead! Most would have run away!

Mercedes 15:15 : I think that’s a good sign

Mercedes 15:15 : She might be in love with you, even if she doesn’t know it

Sylvain 15:16 : I don’t like that might. I’d rather to be sure about it

Mercedes 15:16 : Just remember doubts are natural, but you must persist

Mercedes 15:16 : It’s now or never, confess your love!

Mercedes 15:17 : And don’t play with her feelings, please

Sylvain 15:17 : I know it’s hard to believe, Mercie, but I’m serious

Mercedes 15:18 : Sothis has answered my prayers then 😊

Sylvain 15:18 : Or Byleth. The professor paired us on that damned project.

Mercedes 15:18 : I have to go now. I’ll answer later. Write to me if you need it, ok?

Sylvain 15:19 : Ok, see you! Thanks, Mercedes

He appreciated Mercedes’ honesty. However, she had given Sylvain another headache, for the devout girl had reminded him of something else. He hadn’t gone out with a girl in months. He had uninstalled all his dating apps – which weren’t exactly for dating, obviously, but flings. Even so, years of being a bastard had to catch up with him at some point, and he guessed it’d be soon enough.

A knock on the window of the car startled him. It was you, with a radiant smile.

“You’ve come early!”, he greeted you as he opened the window. Unknowingly, Sylvain hid his mobile phone. “Get in.”

You went around the car, which looked new, but not extravagantly expensive, and opened the door.

“You’re the one who is early!”, you said, fastening your seatbelt. “Did I have you waiting for too long?”

“Not at all!” Sylvain brushed it off.

“I saw your car through the window, that’s why I came earlier”, you smiled.

Without further ado, he started the engine and thus began your two-hour journey to the biggest cathedral in Fódlan, and your old highschool.

--

The nearer you were to Garreg Mach, where you practically lived for years – excluding holidays, of course, when you’d visit your family – the more mountains and nature you’d see through the windows.

Sylvain was suspiciously quiet yet again.

“I thought Dimitri would be coming with us?” You asked to spark a conversation against the unbearable silence.

“He’s going to spend all the break with his father in Faerghus after the mass, so he’s not returning to college afterwards,” Sylvain explained nonchalantly. “Besides, he doesn’t like when others drive. Just an odd habit of his.”

“What about you?” You asked. “How come you aren’t going to Faerghus afterwards too? You’ve finished all your papers.”

“Nah”, he shrugged. “My relationship with my family… is rocky. So I’ll be staying behind until our university closes and I finish all my excuses.”

“I thought Miklan was gone for a long while.”

“Well, it’s not just Miklan...” The redhead added. “My father is not interested in me and my whole being, but rather in my grades and my capacity of managing his businesses and his land. Oh, and he’s also-” Sylvain hesitated. He realized he usually doesn’t open up to others this fast. However, thinking about the past you two share, and how you’re always genuine to him despite everything he’s making you do, he continued. “My father is also constantly trying to auction off my hand to any bigwig’s daughter who might make a big investment for the family. It’s exhausting.”

“Sounds horrible. I’m sorry you have to deal with a family like that.” You commented sympathetically. You wanted to express your compassion, so you caressed his shoulder. However, Sylvain flinched in the slightest manner, which you noticed and retreated your hand.

“Remember those girls in the library long ago?” He wondered.

“Yes.”

“I met them in one of my father’s parties. Two fickle, capricious girls that wanted a good catch to get expensive gifts and an exciting roll in the hay.” His tone was harsh, and you saw his knuckles whiten over the wheel. Suddenly, he changed his register into a lighter one. “I forgot to tell you that Edelgard is going to be there with Dimitri. She usually can’t attend, since Enbarr is too far away. Maybe she’s going to stay with Dimitri in Fhirdiad to… amend their relationship. Who knows. And Hubert will be surely there, being Edelgard’s shadow.”

“Ah, I see. Well, she is Dimitri’s step sister, after all, they ought to be on good terms,” You commented.

“Isn’t she your friend?”

“Not exactly. Well, not like Dorothea. We get along, but we haven’t met that much outside the classroom.” You answered.

“I see.” He nodded slightly.

You took advantage of your position in the co-pilot seat and observed him. His soft hair, dark red in the roots and orangey where the light caressed it, the shape of his straight nose and his outlined jaw... He was objectively handsome. The actions of those girls Sylvain talked about were despicable, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that they thought they had won the lottery: this man was rich, handsome, friendly and extremely seductive. However, they had miscalculated the situation, because they had not been the first nor the last ones to try, and they didn’t know Sylvain hated playing that game.

It saddened you, that he had to live that. But it saddened you even deeper in your heart that you didn’t know what to expect. Nothing could assure you that Sylvain would get over his ex-lovers and stalkers. And yes, you liked him – some would assure you were in love with him – but would you be able to pursue a romantic relationship? Especially in this situation?

Ingrid had voiced her opinion a lot of times: you shouldn’t try it. You knew that whatever you did, she was going to support you, but she had her reservations. Mercedes was wary as well. The only dissonant view was Dorothea’s.

Dorothea had gone to a date with Sylvain back in high school and she concluded he was a pig. You had heard so, sat in your desk right behind hers as she was telling the story to Edelgard. Despite that, Dorothea and Sylvain became allies of some sort – which made you jealous until you finally befriended the star of the Garreg Mach choir. It might have been the common nature of the gossip they both faced, or the fact that most of the high-end parties they attended were frequented by the same dull people. It didn’t matter what it was, but, although Dorothea restated constantly that Sylvain was nauseating, her attitude towards him had changed. It lit a small hope within your heart that your friend, who usually despised a lot of men of his kind, was encouraging you.

“Give him a chance!”, she exclaimed one day while you were having lunch with her and Petra. “I feel it in my gut! You’re made for each other.” Petra agreed, although she didn’t know either of you that much.

Yet, what made you different from all those girls Sylvain hated? That unexplained deep connection? Because, other than that, nobody could tell if your love was more authentic than theirs. You weren’t even sure yourself. Did you like him because he was a pretty face, or because you actually were in love? It was hard to tell.

As if Dorothea had read your mind and your hesitation, your phone vibrated.

Dorothea 15:53 : GO FOR THE KILL

Dorothea 15:53 : Make him suffer a little bit before falling into his arms tho

Dorothea 15:53 : AND tell me ALL the juicy details afterwards 😉

“What’s wrong?” Sylvain glanced over at you with a chuckle.

“What?”

“You just snorted!” He laughed.

“Oh, just Dorothea wishing us good luck,” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you weren’t as good as him. He laughed.

“Is she telling you to avoid me like I’m a pest?”

“Something like that…” You lied.

--

It didn’t matter from which angle you observed it; the Cathedral had always been impressive. The clear stone, bathed in the sunrays, seemed to be pure gold, resplendent in its holiness. The place stirred like a hive with the confluence of people, most of whom you knew. A nostalgic sensation washed over you.

“Could you wait here?” Sylvain asked, moving his head around and narrowing his eyes to figure out the identity of the people around you. “I have to go greet my parents.” He clarified.

��Do you want to go alone?”

“Yes”, he scratched the back of his head. “I’m sure you’ll meet them one day,” He winked, “but not today.”

The redhead faded into the crowd, while you waited in the courtyard right before the hall. You didn’t know what to do, so you sat over one of the low walls. You saw a patch of blonde hair, but you weren’t sure if it was Dimitri, so you didn’t move. Meanwhile, you recognised many of the passers-by, as they were family of your own classmates, but you doubted they’d remember you.

A deep voice called your name from the shadows of a nearby tree. You looked at the source of the sound.

“Hubert?” You blinked several times. That was a surprise.

“Indeed. I’m here to accompany Edelgard. What are you doing here?”, he asked. “I was certain that you didn’t like going to mass, and you have to ties with the Kingdom of Faerghus.”

“I’ve come with Sylvain”, you answered. Hubert’s eerie, yellow eyes were fixed on you, disturbing you.

“I see,” he commented. A small grimace that resembled a smile formed on his lips.

“He’ll come in a moment”, you forced a smile. You didn’t dislike Hubert, but he had an extraordinary ability to put your nerves on edge.

“I wanted to thank you for that favour,” he commented efficiently.

“That thing?”, you made an ‘o’ with your lips. “No need to thank me, Hubert. We’re… friends?”

“I prefer the term strategic partners”, he nodded.

“Okay, that name is fine too.”

“The reason I’m here is that I must inform you that the heir of the Gautier is engaged”, he said with solemnity.

“Excuse me?” Your little world shattered into pieces, broken. What the fuck was Hubert talking about?

“A month ago, his parents engaged him with one of the daughters of Mr. Rowe. Since you’re rather close with him, I thought you should know it.”

“... I see.”, you muttered, still shocked, trying to remain composure.

“I must go now,” he said, but he didn’t move. “I apologise for being the harbinger of bad news.”

“No need to worry, I just was surprised. See you around”, you waved at him, indicating that you’d be okay. Hubbert made a bow and vanished.

That was an unexpected turn of events. Your heartbeat was loud and fast, and you did your best to quickly blink away tears so that no one would notice. Despite the doubts, the second thoughts and all the things against you, you had thought you’d be in control whether you ended up with Sylvain or not. However, just like the rest of your life, it seemed that you were trapped in a book somebody else was writing. And now, in the place where your crush had begun, any hope you harboured had disappeared, just like a flame put out with a bucket of cold water.

You opened and closed your eyes rapidly to make the tears disappear and stood up. You breathed in and out in slow movements. Your body began relaxing.

Where was Sylvain? There was almost nobody else outside. The mass would begin in almost five minutes. He must have been talking with his parents, if what Hubert said was true. How were you in such a deep mess?

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Sylvain appeared from the lateral of the cathedral.

“Hey! You ready?” He sprang to you.

“Yes,” You tried to cover your face. You couldn’t let him see you in vulnerability.

“Okay, remember the plan.” He leaned into you, lowering his voice. “We sit on the back row, and 10 minutes before the end we get out. Then, we enter through the left door and hide in the confessionary booth. You go in first, then I follow you 3 minutes apart.”

You nodded and walked into the cathedral. You couldn’t look at him in the eyes. It was going to be a long evening.

--

The confessional booth was dark inside. There was a separation between the two parts that composed it, so the space was reduced. You sat on the wooden bench, thankful that it didn’t crack at all.

Sylvain had been right: nobody saw you. The confessionary itself, with an entry in the back, blocked the view of the lateral door to any onlooker that could have been there. On the other hand, you could see the people sitting in the left wing of the building through the lattice in a very convenient way. It was an excellent place to hide. The pulpit was far away, yet the voice of Archbishop Rhea was heard everywhere.

In spite of your relative security, this had to be by far the worst idea you had ever agreed on. Everything seemed doomed in that moment. You were sure in that moment that you’d get caught or expelled. You wanted to run away.

But right then, the back door silently opened and Sylvain entered the scene.

Sylvain’s wide shoulders almost didn’t fit through the entrance. You tried to move around to make some space for him, but it was in vain. You were thankful for the shadows, because your cheeks were growing redder and redder by the moment as his presence became more and more noticeable.

You didn’t know how exactly, but you ended up with your legs over his lap, your shoulders touching and your faces way too close for your liking. At least right then, when Hubert’s words were still fresh in your mind.

The choir started singing a tune, which indicated that the mass was approaching its end. Such pure voices were inappropriate for that moment you were sharing with Sylvain.

“I swear this was bigger before...” Sylvain whispered in your ear. It made your hair stand on end.

“Yes, when we were confessing, being 12 and younger, and being alone. Now it’s even more tiny because someone decided to have the both of us in here.” You grunted back, careful of not being heard.

His breath caressed your face, and his warmth radiated from his clothes. He was too comfortable, and you felt like you could be cuddled like this forever, while at the same time you wanted to run away from his touch. It occurred to you that he might have been a sorcerer, and that he had put you in an unavoidable spell. How else would all these feelings be so intense? It couldn’t be just love, right?

���I have something to tell you,” Sylvain said, but he wasn’t looking at you.

Was he going to tell you that he was engaged? Your breathing was erratic once more. You couldn’t flee, much to your dismay.

“What is it?”

“I…”, he cut himself.

“You…?” You were suspenseful, but you weren’t sure for what. Disappointment? Elation? Sylvain turned his head and fixed his pupils on yours.

“Be my girlfriend.” He managed to speak. You had no words. The world was definitely laughing at your face. “I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me. So why not? Isn’t it the logical thing to do?”

“It’s not that easy, Sylvain, despite how much I wish it was.” You sighed, at a loss for better words.

“Why not?” He pressed.

His heart dropped and a thousand thoughts rushed into his mind. He wanted to scream. How could he dare to think someone would genuinely love him? He got hurt, as it always happened. He shouldn’t have let his walls down, not even for you. He shouldn’t seek love, he shouldn’t have bothered. Everytime he considered himself worthy of love, the world around him would start crashing down. ‘You’re set yourself up for failure’, Sylvain kept repeating to himself. That’s what his father always told him when things didn’t turn out well. His father had been right. He was a failure. Even when his intentions were pure, he had already tainted his future. There was no redemption for him, right?

You picked up on the rising panic on Sylvain’s face, and you felt guilt inside your chest.

“I’m scared,” you said, trying to justify yourself. You believed it was the moment to be sincere. “I’m scared that you’re lying to use me. Or that you’d just get bored and throw me away.”

“I’d never do that to you,” he said, horrified by the fact that you wouldn’t accept he was telling the truth. “You’re not like the-”. He interrupted himself. “I see it now. I won’t stop repeating the same sentence, right? Now nobody will believe me.” Sylvain covered his face with his hand. “I cried the wolf way too many times…” He mutters.

“There’s something else,” you whispered.

“Just say it. It’s not gonna get worse at this point.” Sylvain chuckled somberly.

“You’re engaged.”

“It’s not something I chose. And it’s definitely not something I’m happy about.” He stated. Your words felt like a knife on Sylvain’s skin. “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought I’d get my parents to break the engagement first, but it’s taking longer than I’d expected.”

Out of the blue, Sylvain placed his hands around your face.

“Will you be my girlfriend? You didn’t say no. You know that I wouldn’t willingly propose to a girl when you are right here by my side. You haven’t seen me with another girl, have you?” He assured, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“I don’t want to say no,” you answered, confused. “But- Sylvain, we’re doomed. We’re not meant to be.”

“I don’t care about fate. Does that mean you’d give me a chance?” His eyes were intense, hard and, all the same, warm and comforting, with the colour of liquid caramel. Sylvain threw all his doubts away for once, just wanting to be with you. You were one of the only things keeping him happy.

“I don’t know… Sylvain, I-”

“If you tell me I’ve still got a chance, I’m not going to give up. I love you.” He announced seriously. “Don’t get me wrong, if you really want me out of your life, I will do it, but otherwise…”

“This is a trap. How am I supposed to tell you looking at you in the eye that I don’t want to see you ever again?” You complained.

“I’m not a trickster, but I’m not gonna let you go either. I’ll have to convince you to be mine, then.”

“And how are you going to convince me?”, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I already did the hardest part, I made you fall for me.” he smirked.

With that, you couldn’t resist the invisible force pulling yourself to him anymore. You crashed your lips against his and sat astride his lap. It was easy; you had already done it before. Sylvain was amazed, but he was not one to lose an opportunity. He kissed you back. Unable to control himself, his hands grabbed your waist, but he didn’t let himself explore. He was unsure of what was happening, but he was glad he’d got to taste your lips a second time.

You pressed your chest against his torso, while trying to hug him closer. His lips were soft and firm, his movements decided, and he knew what he wanted. Sylvain took advantage of a pause you took for breathing and let his tongue slide in. He was voracious and greedy in his attentions, and he did not let a single speck of your mouth untouched.

You were starting to feel dizzy and wanted much more, but you stopped.

“Everybody should be gone by now,” you muttered, his mouth still pressed to yours. He was panting, and you could guess what was on his mind – you could feel his excitement rising in his lap, after all.

“What was that for?”

“I felt like it.” you lovingly took off a lock of his hair from his forehead. “I’m not going to give you my heart just like that, but I swear to the Goddess, I can’t resist you.”

“Well, I’m not going to complain if you do it again, you know.” he smirked, releasing you from his grip. “After all, we have to make up for lost time.” He grabbed your wrist before letting you go completely, and lowered his tone. “But don’t get used to torturing me like this, or I’ll eventually lose my composure.”

“I’ll risk it,” you playfully answered while you distanced yourself.

You exited the booth without a single sound. The church was dark, since there was no light coming from the large windows anymore. The sun was gone. The place was creepy without a single source of brightness, and the stone was grey and cold.

Your steps followed Sylvain as he manoeuvred between the pews and towards the sets of stairs that led to the upper floor. You had not been there frequently, just once or twice to help Seteth move some books after class. Sylvain, however, knew the place like the palm of his hand due to Seteth’s insistence in correcting the mischievous redhead’s nature. Seteth never achieved his ambition, of course, but as a result, Sylvain could go to Rhea’s office with his eyes closed. And to Seteth’s one, to the cleaning supplies stall and many more rooms he had the pleasure to visit in his youth.

“Careful with the stairs, the stone is worn-out, and you can fall down”, Sylvain warned you.

There were bright coloured statues of the saints and Seiros splattered around, along with some old-looking tapestries that needed to wash. You couldn’t admire them for long, because before you could register that you were raiding the empty cathedral at 8 p.m., Sylvain had already stopped before a wooden door.

“It’s here”, he stated solemnly.

“Are you ready?”, you asked.

“More than ever”, he smiled and turned around the doorknob.

Of course, it was closed.

“Fuck”, he said.

“We should have expected that”, you rubbed your temple.

“Do you have a bobby pin?”

“Nope”, you hummed.

“Okay, time to go home I guess”, Sylvain suddenly laughed, and so did you. “It feels like we’ve gone crazy, right?”

“Oh my god, Sylvain, you thought about the confessional booth but it didn’t occur to you that the door might have been locked?”, you giggled.

“Shut up! You could have guessed it, too!”

“Four months ago I thought I’d never speak to you in my life, and look at us now”, you couldn’t help the laughs.

“What’s so fun?”, Seteth’s voice reverberated through the narrow corridor, shutting both your mouths at the same time.

He had appeared from a door right across you ‒ from his own office, you presumed. You were so nervous that you couldn’t say a word. It was surreal. Seteth didn’t look angry, he looked curious instead, something you weren’t used to. The years might have eased his nerves. But that fact didn’t make your position any easier.

“Look, Seteth, we’re not here for any funny business”, Sylvain defended himself and you. He stepped forwards out of habit.

“Because entering Lady Rhea’s office is not suspicious at all”, Seteth calmly replied.

“Okay, it seems suspicious. But it’s not what it seems,” he began scratching the back of his head. “I dragged her here and…”

You had relaxed enough to form coherent words. And you decided it was the moment to come out clean, because lies and secrets were just turning your life upside down. Furthermore, Seteth’s presence ignited an old feeling; the need to rely on a much more mature adult. You cut Sylvain’s words.

“Seteth, we’ve come here looking for some papers that belong to Lady Rhea”, you said loud and clear. “We were going to steal them.”

“What are you doing?” Sylvain asked incredulously.

“Seteth, we’ve been having the weirdest dreams”, you said. “And they won’t stop, to the point they seem real, like memories.” Seteth's disposition changed. He tensed, and his face paled. “We went to Byleth’s office and… we read a letter from the Archbishop. We know that those dreams happened, but we wanted to verify it and learn why everything’s happening. Otherwise, we’ll go mad.”

Seteth’s green eyes went from your figure to Sylvain’s and back to you again. It was visible that he was torn, choosing what to do. The older man sighed, defeated. He had lost from the beginning, because he couldn’t conceal his fear from such an unexpected accusation.

“It’s a long story”, Seteth said. “Come into my office and have some tea.”

He let you in the room, only lit with candles scattered around. You and Sylvain sat on a sofa that was behind the coffee table. Sylvain went to a desk filled with piles of papers, where there was an electric kettle and various wooden boxes.

“I’ve got ginger tea and a four-spice blend. There must be some sweet-apple blend too somewhere here, Flayn’s favourite”, Seteth offered.

“I don’t mind which one”, you said, smiling politely.

“We’ll have whatever you're having, Seteth”, answered Sylvain.

There was a prolonged silence. The only sounds were the boiling water of the kettle and Seteth rummaging in his drawers. A nice aroma of ginger slowly spread through the air.

The man of the church placed three teacups on the table and sat in the armchair right in front of you. You had never noticed, but Seteth was fit, way too much for a man of his profession. It made sense, though, when you remembered his expertise upon a wyvern.

“I’m sorry about the light. I never got around installing lamps, and I like the candles. They remind me of more familiar times…”, Seteth said as he poured you a cup of steaming tea. “Where should I begin?”, he inquired.

“Did those things really happen?”, Sylvain asked first.

“Yes”, Seteth nodded matter-of-factly. “All those memories you’ve recovered have happened in the past. Or… in our other lives, as I like to say.”

“Are those things going to happen again?”, it was your turn to ask, then. Seteth could sense the fear in your voice.

“We hope the war will never repeat itself”, he reassured you. “We don’t really know what the future has in store for us, but we’ve deemed it very unlikely. The events that have happened in this era are completely different from those in the past.”

“Who are ‘we’?” Said Sylvain. “If you don’t mind the questions…”

“The Nabateans,” Seteth answered dryly. He took a sip of his cup of tea. “I’m sure you remember, the Immaculate One back in the battle of Garreg Mach, right?”

“Some things are… vague for me”, Sylvain lamented, because you had told him the story a million of times, but he couldn’t recall the encounter.

“I remember it. It was Lady Rhea, right? I remember Edelgard telling us she was a monster controlling the continent from the shadows.” You explained.

“Yes… So-”

“Wait,” Sylvain interrupted Seteth. “Can you turn into a dragon?”

“Not me,” he denied. “It's been hundreds of years, but that’s not quite the topic of this conversation, is it?” The green-haired man reminded him.

“But how did it happen? How did we end up living so many lives?”, you interceded. “Why didn’t we… just die?”

“It’s Byleth’s doing”, Seteth replied. “Lady Rhea, back when Byleth was born in 1159, placed Sothis’ heart in his, hoping our mother would live again…”

“Sothis… the Goddess? She’s real?” Sylvain was dumbfounded. You looked at your cup of tea, then to Seteth, unable to articulate an answer. You were thankful for Seteth’s patience.

“Yes. This gave him great power, as he became one with the Goddess. Which granted Byleth as well the power of turning back the hands of time.”

“So he’s been turning back the time after the war of Fódlan?”, you exclaimed.

“Byleth wanted to save us all from the tragedy that devastated Fódlan. He kept turning back to the year 1180, yet one way or another, the string of events led to the same. So, at last, Byleth decided he needed to go way back, to the beginning of everything.” He paused, and saw your faces focused on every word that was escaping his mouth. He smiled to himself, remembering those times when you both were younger and listened to his lessons. Your faces might have changed, and your voices and bodies, but the eyes of his pupils were still the same. “Sothis, aware of the future, made her holy sacrifice to prevent Nemesis and his kind to take over. The history of Fódlan changed just enough to give us a rest...”

“So Byleth’s hair will be dark blue forever now?”, Sylvain asked.

“Yes. The professor is no longer the vessel of the Goddess,” Seteth clarified. “There are no longer any crests nor Hero’s relics. Therefore, technology has prospered, and your generation was born later ‒ although we don’t know exactly why this happened.” Seteth paused to sip his tea and hear your questions, but all the information had left you and Sylvain dumbfounded. Therefore, he continued his speech, somewhat relieved that he could finally tell a human all these burdens. “Flayn used to cry a lot, weeping about your absence,” he tenderly recalled. “Lady Rhea and I were sad too. We’ve been through a lot, all of us, after all…”

“I have another question, Seteth…”, Sylvain started. He was in deep thought, just like you. “Why is it that we’ve got our memories back?”

“I honestly have no idea…”, Seteth shook his head from side to side. “It could be because of your previous relationship. Back in the Officers Academy you were on... extremely good terms, as far as I know, so when I was your teacher in this high school it surprised me that you two never coincided. However, you’ve found your way next to each other, so perhaps some things are meant to be…” The older man trailed off, but continued. “Well, I don’t know. I know for us, the kin of Sothis, it’s probably due to our blood. For humans… it’s harder to tell.”

You looked at Sylvain from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t dare to face the ginger.

“Isn’t this a big secret?” you questions, amazed that Seteth ‒ and no other than Seteth himself ‒ was confiding to you such details.

“Yes, it is”, Seteth confirmed, narrowing his eyes.

“Why are you telling us, then?”

“Because, as I said, I appreciate you. Both of you. We’ve fought side by side, you’ve rescued Flayn numerous times”, he crossed his arms over his chest again. “Sylvain risked his life for Flayn numerous times, while you were also close to Byleth. It’s unnatural not to trust you...” Then, Seteth spoke once more. “But I must request that this reunion stays between us. Please. We don’t want any resentment to be born in such a peaceful time as this is. And I’ve broken so many rules right now that I’m frankly scared of what might happen.”

“Okay, we won’t say anything, Seteth”, you nodded. “I promise.”

“You have our word”, Sylvain accepted.

“Not even… Rhea or Byleth. If you don’t mind, this never happened.” Seteth touched his beard.

“Wait, Seteth, I still have Professor Byleth’s letter”, you said, worried. “He must have noticed it went missing…”

“Don’t worry about that, Byleth is a disaster. He came by this morning, I’ll tell him he dropped it and that he should be more careful”, Seteth smiled.

“Thank you, Seteth. For real”, Sylvain said. And you saw for the first time in his eyes the lightest shadow of hope.

[blue-lions-baby]

Operation Confession (Dimitri x F!Reader) [Ch. 2]

ah! i felt like i should specify that this is a f!reader. sorry about that. all of my stories have been f!reader and i (waking up in a cold sweat) realized it would prob be better for me to specify that from now on. i’m so sorry for not putting it earlier! from now on, i will specify if it is f!reader or not.

this has got to be one of the longest fics i have ever written (this chapter alone pushing slightly past 5000 words). i am *so* glad i split it up into different chapters. imagine if this was just one big oneshot oh my g

also, i found some loose inspiration for dimitri’s wardrobe change from be my princess 2′s ivan chernenkov!

okay, that’s about it. sorry for the long intro! now, please enjoy chapter 2!

~*~

“Sylvain...”

“Yeah?”

“Was it truly necessary to tell everyone about my... predicament?”

“I-If I may, Your Highness,” Ashe piped up, “we were already aware of your feelings towards (F/N). You’re not exactly... subtle.”

Everyone-- including Byleth who was grading papers at their desk-- all nodded their head in agreement.

“See?! C’mon, even the Professor noticed the sparks between you two!”

“That’s because they’re Professor Byleth, Sylvain.” Ingrid informed with a sigh.

“Oh yeah. Fair point.”

“Where is (F/N)?” Dimitri queried, not seeing your radiant face among the crowd.

“Well, Mercie and I...” Annette began, her cheeks spreading into a grin. “We pulled a little... prank, on our dear (F/N).”

“A-A prank?”

“Nothing too serious. We just did something that will slow her down.” Mercedes assured sweetly. Sylvain clicked his tongue loudly.

“Don’t worry about her! Remember why we’re all gathered here.”

Murmurs bounced around the attendees; before Dimitri could ask what kind of scheme the redhead roped them into, his loyal retainer announced,

“Your Highness, do you require assistance in confessing to (F/N)?”

Dimitri’s alabaster cheeks were hosed into an assortment of rubies and reds; dismay and horror and dread were all that filled his pretty azure eyes. The veins outlined in his neck and forehead grew sharper and sharper with each uncomfortable squeak that left the prince’s throat.

“Ridiculous. The boar actually has feelings?” Felix spat.

“Yeah. He needs help.” Sylvain answered, ignoring his scowling classmate.

“I-- You-- Sylvain, was this--?”

“My plan? Yeah.”

Dimitri would have killed Sylvain right then and there if it weren’t for the presence of several witnesses.

That didn’t mean he didn’t entertain the idea, though. Sylvain’s cool facade was pierced by the murderously sharp glow in the prince’s eyes.

“Not to worry, Your Highness!” Ashe cheerily interrupted Dimitri’s elaborate scheme of how to grind Sylvain’s kneecaps into a fine powder. “While on our way here, several of us have come up with ideas on how to get you two together!”

“Instead of us all working as one big group, we thought it would be wiser if we split up into smaller groups.” Ingrid mentioned.

“Mercie and I are together of course!” Annette’s eyes glowed excitedly. “After class, we’re gonna stop by the florist to buy (F/N)’s favorite flowers!”

“Why flowers, may I ask?”

“So you can give them to her later tonight!”

“T-Tonight?”

“This is where Ashe and I will lend you our aid.” Dedue stepped forward. “We will help you cook the perfect meal for (F/N).”

“Me? Cook?”

“(F/N) will surely be pleased that you put in the effort to cook her something! No matter the outcome, at least...” Ashe rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“And I suppose this is where we come in.” Ingrid said, motioning to herself, Sylvain, and Felix. “We will be making sure that everything goes smoothly, and will assist each group however way we can.”

“I’ll teach you everything I know when it comes to wooing the ladies.” Sylvain winked.

“I suppose I can serve as the ‘distraction.’ After class, I’ll ask (F/N) to spar with me so that should give you all some time to prepare.” Felix huffed.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind taste-testing the dishes that you prepare... J-Just to make sure (F/N) will like it! We do have similar tastes, so...” Ingrid blushed.

“I myself have devised a way to get you two together,” Byleth stated flatly, “and that starts with a brand new seating chart. I have separated you all into your different squadrons.”

Everyone crowded around the parcel of paper that Byleth spread on the table.

“Dimitri, you sit by (F/N) in the back of the room there. Mercedes and Annette, you sit together towards the front. Ashe, Dedue, in the row beside them. Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix will be sitting in this row, behind Mercedes and Annette. Understood?”

“N-No--”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. In your seats, everyone. If my calculations are correct, (F/N) should be coming in any minute now.”

Dimitri watched in plain confusion as everyone scrambled to their new seats. He automatically looked to Dedue for help, but only saw Ashe taking Dimitri’s usual spot beside the Duscur man. The sounds of curses haphazardly strewn about the vicinity along with an unsettling squelching sound echoed closer and closer to the classroom.

“Quickly now. Dimitri, in your seat.”

BANG!!!

The doors of the classroom smashed the stone wall with a thundering clap, rattling the slabs of wood on their hinges. You stumbled in, holding a dripping wet boot with one hand and your collection of study materials hastily bundled together in the other. The tousled blob of tangled tresses on the left side of your head starkly contrasted the sorry attempt of brushing on your right. Little leaves stuck out of the collar of your shirt and brown, crackly twigs pinned themselves onto your skirt.

“Good morning, Ms. (L/N). Turned rather... experimental this morning, have we?”

“P-Professor Byleth!” You bowed deeply, jumping when your books tumbled out of your grasp. “I am so, so sorry for being late! I’ve had the most horrendous morning...”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, when I woke up, i found my boots filled to the brim with water.” You chucked the boot you were holding towards the door and yanked off the one you were wearing; about a quarter bootful of water came cascading out of the shoe.

“Then my uniform-- which was folded neatly and placed on my desk the night before-- was thrown! Outside! Into some shrubs by my window!” You picked and plucked at the bits of foliage that accessorized your uniform with exasperation.

“And to top it all off, my hairbrush was missing! So I’ve been trying to comb my hair with my fingers, but that’s really hard to do when you’re holding a soggy boot in one hand and books in the other!”

You keeled over, wheezing, while the rest of the Blue Lions slowly turned their gaze to the two smiling girls in the front.

“That is... quite a tale.”

“Professor, I can not make this up. I feel like somebody is targeting me. But why? What could I have possibly done to deserve this?!”

“Nothing, (F/N). You’re right. What you went through was severe.” Byleth glanced down at two specific students sharply. “I will excuse your tardiness for today. Dimitri, please go help your new desk mate. I must start class immediately if we are to stay on schedule.”

“Of course, Professor...”

Oh no... Of all the... Since when did your class get a new seating chart? And why, of all people, were you placed beside Dreamy Dimi Dimitri?! Why was the Goddess punishing you? And for what?! You didn’t do anything! And now he has to see you looking like this for the rest of class? Why was life acting so cruel towards you?

“(F/N)?”

“Ah! D-Dimitri! Yes, hello!”

“Allow me to take your books to our desk.” He muttered politely, refusing to meet your gaze. Unable to say anything else without babbling like an idiot, you bowed gratefully to the prince as he scooped up your notes and books in his arms. Great! You were so disgusting, he couldn’t even look at you! Today was gonna be a long, long day...

Dimitri smoothed out the crinkled notes on your side of the row and his pupils happened upon a little scribble faintly scratched into the corner of the paper. The tips of his gloved fingers grazed the marking subconsciously, his brain not quite registering the ‘D’ drawn in the middle of a heart.

Color flooded your cheeks as you nabbed the paper away from Dimitri’s ‘prying’ eyes.

“Excuse me! I need that!”

“A-Ah. Of course. Forgive me.” Dimitri’s cognitive abilities had completely shut down, his entire being running solely on the etiquette lessons that were drilled into his head as a child.

Minutes ticked by, and Professor Byleth’s voice slowly joined the symphony of background noise. Neither you nor Dimitri processed a single word in class that day-- you huddling yourself into the closest semblance of a ball while Dimitri busied himself counting the specks on the floor in a vain, vain attempt to distract himself from the delightfully crisp apple notes that came from your hair (despite its... frazzled appearance).

The words that did process, however, was Byleth’s resounding ‘Class dismissed’ and you had never been happier to leave a lecture. Without casting a glance at anyone, you shoveled your studies into your arms and sped-walked out the classroom and towards the safe confines of your room to cry yourself to sleep.

But in your rush, a certain paper that was half-wedged between two books spiraled down, down, and further down. Dimitri’s watchful eye and skillful hand caught the piece of paper before it touched the ground and recognized the small, minimalist script as your handwriting. He looked up, eager to hand you your belonging, but...

“Er, Felix, have you seen (F/N)?”

“What? Did you not see her leave the classroom? I didn’t even get a chance to ask her to spar with me...”

“Well, she--” Dimitri choked on his own spit. “F-Felix--”

“What?”

Short, blubbering stammers made up a majority of Dimitri’s vernacular; Felix, growing impatient at the royal’s inability to form coherent thoughts, snapped the paper from Dimitri’s hand and read the contents.

“These are just notes on that battle formation we learned the other day.”

“No, there’s something on the corner up there...”

Felix’s sharp gaze followed Dimitri’s quivering finger.

“... Oh.”

“Fel, what’s up? You’re supposed to be training with (F/N) right now.”

“Sylvain. You take care of this.” Felix slapped the note into the redhead’s chest. “I’ll be by her quarters. When she finally decides to come out, I’ll ask her then.”

Then he was gone.

Sylvain, brows furrowed, unraveled the piece of paper that was so roughly shoved into him; his nose crinkled slightly.

“These are just notes.”

“The top...”

“Huh? What--... Ohhh. I see.” Sylvain’s light, angelic chortle didn’t mesh with the devilish smirk on his lips. “Your Highness, by any chance... Have you got an extra suit on you?”

“Hm? Well, yes, but it’s reserved for very special occasions.”

“Does a date with the girl of your dreams not fit that category?”

“... Allow me to show you where I keep it.”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

Like a sailor heaving up a heavy sail battered by the ocean’s rageful tempest, you slowly hoisted your eyelids open with unimaginable difficulty. It felt like a bag of lead was tied to your eyelashes, keeping your eyes at a constant state of half-opened. You padded the soft, swollen flesh around your eyes and already knew the puffiness was there to stay-- at least for the rest of the day.

Two short knocks peppered your door and you very nearly chucked the closest item in your vicinity at it. You caught yourself, however, and face-planted into your damp pillow.

Two short knocks peppered your door as you sunk your face further into your cushion.

Two short knocks peppered your door as your anguish turned to ire.

Two short knocks--

“WHAT?!”

You had no memory of the actual journey from your bed to your door, but that didn’t matter much to you as you swung it open to face your grievance personified.

You caught Felix mid-knock and would have snapped his wrist if his knuckles dared to make contact with your door.

“What is it.” You croaked disdainfully.

“Wow. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Shut up. Just leave me alone.”

Your door was caught by your visitor’s firm yet gentle hold.

“Hang on. I... I’m sorry.” Felix swallowed thickly. “Today has been a pretty tough day for you.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Goodbye.”

“So,” Felix interjected, “spar with me.”

“What?”

“Let all your anger out on me. It’s not good to keep it inside.”

“That sounds strange, coming from you.”

“Trust me, it feels stranger saying it.” Felix grimaced. “Just... Please. Spar with me. Don’t let this fester inside you.”

He sounded almost pleadingly. A tiny portion of your heart swelled in gratitude towards the male; you stiffly wedged the door open.

“... Fine.”

The corners of Felix’s lips twitched upwards as you both headed for the training grounds.

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

“We got the flowers!” Annette burst into the dining hall, waving the bouquet with glee. Mercedes shortly followed.

“I saw Felix and (F/N) head for the training grounds. He’ll keep her occupied for at least an hour or two.”

“Just enough time to roast a Faerhgus fowl.” Dedue commented, smiling slightly.

“Great! Well, I guess I’ll keep watch, so if you need me...” Sylvain slipped out of the dining hall and leaned his frame by the entrance, smiling and waving at passing females.

“Oh, and remember Your Highness,” a spike of red popped back in, “don’t forget you still need to get changed.”

“Got it. Thank you, Sylvain.”

“(F/N) and I were on kitchen duty last week, and she mentioned she loves (Favorite Soup)! We can cook that as well.” Ashe’s eyes shone brightly.

“I can bake some sweets!” Mercedes chimed in.

“E-Everyone, I’m afraid my skills in the kitchen are... less than spectacular. I’m afraid I will only hinder your progress...” Dimitri took a hesitant step out of the kitchen as he watched his classmates get to work.

“Nonsense, Your Highness.” Dedue reassured as he picked out a fowl. “We will guide you. May you please wash and cut the potatoes?”

“O-Of course!” Dimitri dunked a handful of the starchy tubers into a bowl of cool water and made sure no speck of impurity remained on its surface. With Ashe’s saint-like patience and Dedue’s constant monitoring, the royal succeeded in cutting the lumpy veggie into nice, even cubes.

“Great job, Your Highness! Now, can you peel the carrots while I prepare the soup?”

“With pleasure, Ashe.”

Dimitri took the small blade in his hand and carefully skinned the carrots’ rough exterior away, revealing the healthy shade of orange underneath. Dimitri’s confidence grew with each slightly whittled but clean carrot he handed to Ashe and Dedue, and he was silently celebrating the fact that he hadn’t--

... Crack!

All eyes flashed to the source of the sound.

Dimitri stared at the large, compromising splinter running down the length of the knife’s wooden handle; he looked up slowly.

“Er... Is there, perhaps, another one that I can use?”

“A-Actually Your Highness,” Ashe laughed awkwardly, gently taking the ruined blade from his hand and leading him to the bowl of soup, “can you watch the soup and make sure it doesn’t burn or anything?”

“Y-Yes... Um, I apologize for--”

“Do not worry, Your Highness.” Dedue’s monotone voice rang clearly. “It was an accident.”

“Yes, but now the kitchen staff has one less knife to work with...”

“A problem that we can fix the next time we go to town.” Ingrid assured, finally breaking from her food-induced stupor. The savory scents of roasted duck interwove with the hearty notes of (Favorite Soup), creating a mouthwatering song that entranced the gourmand; the delicate, feathery hint of sweets that Mercedes was concocting complemented the deep, earthy tones set by the three males.

“Would you like some, Ingrid?” Mercedes queried sweetly, holding up a small assortment of freshly baked goods. “I know how patiently you’ve been waiting for a sample.”

Ingrid almost lunged at the plate in the cleric’s hand.

“Y-Yes. Thank you, Mercedes. I am excited to taste your sweets.” Ingrid proceeded to not-so-graciously inhale half of the plate’s colorful contents.

“Ah! Ingrid, that was for everyone!”

“Oh!” Ingrid, mouth half-full with sweets, slammed the plate down on the table. “I-I am so sorry! I just, I got super excited and--”

“It is quite all right, Ingrid.” Dimitri replied, his eyes not leaving the softly boiling pot of liquid for a second.

“Please do not look so upset, Ingrid. I can always bake more!” Mercedes gave the aspiring blonde knight a light squeeze. “When we’re done, I can bake you a whole tray of sweets!”

“That would be lovely.” Ingrid smiled, still slightly chewing. “Thank you, Mercedes.”

“Ah, Ashe, it’s boiling quite a lot now. I think the soup is done.”

“Not yet! I haven’t added any seasoning.” Ashe hummed thoughtfully. “Actually... Would you like to add them, Your Highness?”

“I believe a sense of taste would be necessary to accomplish such a task... I, unfortunately, have none.”

“Ah, well,” Ashe looked at the row of spices neatly spread out, “you can still try though! Ingrid can taste test the dish, and she can tell you what you need to add.”

“I suppose that can work... Ingrid--”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

Dimitri and Ashe almost jumped at the closeness of her voice. Turning around, they saw the lass mere inches away from them with a childlike glow in her eyes.

“Ingrid, how did you--”

“I heard I was taste testing, so I came as soon as I could.”

The prince and archer shared glances with each other before the latter was called to assist Dedue. With a quick bow and a ‘good luck,’ Dimitri was left all alone save for a bubbling pot of soup and an overly-enthusiastic assistant.

“I think it would be wise for me to have a taste now so we can see what we still need to add.” Reported Ingrid dutifully.

“Ah, establishing a baseline. That’s a great idea.” Dimitri stepped out of the foodie’s way.

Ingrid grabbed a ladle and scooped a humble amount in its trough before pouring it into a small bowl. Her lips caught the edge of the bowl and she slurped its contents. She hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip.

“It’s all right, but painfully average... We need more of everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Its flavors need to be boosted drastically. It’s not bland, just... underwhelming.”

“I see...” Dimitri cast a nervous glance at the row of spices. “I’m assuming these are the seasonings used to flavor the dish?”

“That is correct!” Piped Ashe from the oven.

“Let’s see here...” His hands danced over the vessels of flavor hesitantly. A bottle of fine, onyx-colored powder caught his eye and he checked the label-- black pepper. He popped open the cap and tapped a careful amount in. Ingrid stirred the pot and poured some more soup in her bowl.

“Mm, that added some much-needed flavor. Try salt this time.”

Dimitri gingerly set the pepper down and scoured the row of spices for the condiment. After he found the small bottle tucked away in the back, he unscrewed the lid and sprinkled in some salt.

“Add more. I can barely taste a difference.” Ingrid critiqued.

Dimitri did as he was told and sprinkled in some more, unsure of the intensity of the granulated whites.

“More, Your Highness. You can be a bit liberal with the salt here.”

“Got it.” Dimitri tilted the bottle and gently tapped its side.

Only for half of the bottle’s contents to fall in.

Dimitri blankly stared at the visible pile of salt floating on the surface of the soup, slowly disintegrating as it drifted further and further down to the bottom of the pot.

Then he was tossed into the five stages of grief all at once-- Ingrid riding that emotionally tumultuous ride with him.

“Your Highness!”

“Ashe!”

“W-What?! What happened?!”

“The salt!” The blondes screamed in terror.

“S-Salt?! What do you--” Then he saw the bottle of salt, previously filled to the brim, staring back at him half-empty. Without a moment to lose, he broke through the two and beelined for the pot. He seized the ladle, scooped up its murky contents, and gave it a large swig.

His eyes shot open in horror and his face paled several sheets of white. He dropped the ladle, wetting the surrounding area with the toxic liquid, and stumbled back onto the counter. Gripping his pants until his knuckles turned as pasty as his cheeks, he forced down the soup with a gag.

“Water...” He flung himself onto the mortified prince, his eyes tearing up. “Water...!!!”

“I got you, Ashe!” Ingrid came swooping in with a cup of the aqua panacea; the archer snagged the cup from Ingrid and chugged it all, not letting a single drop go to waste.

“What happened?” Dedue finally arrived, his head absolutely spinning from the pandemonium that ensued from across the kitchen. Mercedes came running as well, almost dropping the tray of freshly baked desserts from her hands.

“W-Well, His Highness--”

“It’s all my fault,” Dimitri stepped forward, head hung low, “I was only trying to add a little bit more salt, but then I ended up pouring half the bottle. Then Ashe went to taste it, and, well...”

All eyes went to Ashe, who was still recovering from that whole... experience.

“It,” he sputtered,”it tastes like sea water.”

“Ashe, I am so, so sorry. Is there any way I can make this up to you?”

“Get out of my kitchen I-It’s all right, Your Highness... But um... I really don’t think we can serve this to (F/N). It tastes... unpleasant. Very unpleasant.”

“I understand...” Dimitri sighed, forlornly looking at the pot of failure. “Curses! I’m sure (F/N) would have loved it, if only I--”

“Your Highness. There is no need to linger on what has come to pass. We can still cook up a wonderful meal.” Dedue’s even voice steadied the prince. “We do not have much time left. Let us make haste.”

It was all hands on-deck from thereon. While Ashe was temporarily out of commission, the rest of the Lions present did everything in their power to compensate for lost time and dish. As Dimitri busied himself with dicing and rinsing vegetables for a simple salad, everyone else was bouncing around ideas that could possibly substitute the soup.

“I was in town the other day, and I heard one of the merchants talk about this pastry called ‘garlic bread.’“ Annette remarked.

“‘Garlic bread?’“ The Duscur man repeated questioningly.

“Yeah! From what I remember it sounds very easy to make, and we seem to have all the ingredients.”

“And those are?”

“Hmm... Adrestian Butter, bread, powdered Gautier Cheese, powdered garlic, and dried parsley.”

As Annette recounted the recipe to the best of her abilities, Ashe wobbled back to the kitchen with a few of Mercedes’ samples popped in his mouth.

“If you need an extra hand, I’d be happy to help!” He turned to the healer. “And Mercedes, these taste absolutely delightful! Eating them makes me feel all re-energized.”

“I’m always happy to help!” She smiled sweetly, dunking and scrubbing away the dirt on some pots and pans. Dimitri’s eyes widened.

“Ashe, are you certain you’re okay? I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard...”

“I’ll be fine, Your Highness! And besides, Mercedes’ sweets completely washed away the taste of your soup! ... Er, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“... And then we just pop them in the oven, and wait until the edges turn brown.”

“How convenient.” Dedue’s mouth turned up slightly. “I’m sure (F/N) and His Highness will like these.”

“They look quite scrumptious in there...” Ingrid licked her lips greedily. “Hopefully they don’t take too long... Hey, has anyone seen Sylvain? Last I heard he was on guard duty, but he could have run off with some girl at any time.”

“I’m still here,” called a voice from outside, “Ingrid, your lack of faith in me stings! Do you really think I’d be that calloused towards His Highness’s cause?”

“Yes.” Ingrid answered plainly.

“Yowch. That hurt.” Sylvain grimaced. “By the way Your Highness, we--”

. . .

“Sylvain?”

“You guys!” Sylvain came tumbling in, hysteria marring his smug features. “They’re coming!”

An unintelligible gurgle of surprise left the Lions’ throats and they drove to plate and add last minute details to their dishes. Dedue whipped out the duck and Ingrid the garlic bread, followed by a whole parade line of baked treats brought out by Annette and Ashe. Poor Mercedes, finishing up the last spoon in the sudsy basin, was suddenly bombarded with every plate, bowl, utensil, and pan in the kitchen-- not to mention The Pot of Poison. Dimitri set the wooden bowl that carried his salad on the table and he was instantly teleported away to a secluded section outside the dining hall. Sylvain carefully pulled out Dimitri’s finely decorated suit from under a brush, swatting away the little pebbles and specks of dirt that happened upon the fabric.

“It’s a good thing I kept the suit here. Imagine us running back to your quarters to change.”

“Thank you for thinking ahead, Sylvain.” Dimitri’s eyes flitted about him nervously. “I feel rather embarrassed changing out here in the open though...”

“We’re running out of time, Your Highness! Don’t worry, I’ll, uh, cover you.”

Dimitri shot him a grateful look and threw off his cape, which Sylvain caught and held up in a weak attempt to cover his friend. Dimitri chucked off his gloves and shimmied out of his boots; he then lifted the hem of his shirt past his neck and made quick work of his pants, shuffling and kicking the fabric away from him.

“Oh Goddess, they’re coming down this way! Quick, hide!”

“What?! Where?!”

“Uhh...!!!” Dimitri and Sylvain looked to and fro, their heart rate and cortisol levels reaching new heights. Behind the tree? No, the tree is hardly thick enough to cover the prince. The brush? Nah, it’s too small for a full grown man. No, no, he can’t run to the other side of the building, everyone will see his... parts. Sylvain pushed the bewildered Dimitri onto his knees, threw the tarp over him, and sat squarely on his back.

“Sylvain--?!”

“Hey hey hey, Fel and (Your Nickname)! Sooo, how was training?”

“Ah, well, y’know,” you answered back weakly, “tough.”

“Ah-hah! I see, I see!”

“Sylvain... What are you sitting on?” Felix’s eyes rested severely on the... quivering? quivering why was it quivering lump holding the male up. Sylvain looked down, then up, then down, then up, and chuckled nervously.

“Oh, y’know! It’s uh... It’s uh, a rock.”

“... A rock?”

“Yeah! Good ol’ rock here. Conveniently shaped too, y’know.” He patted something that felt a bit too round to just be Dimitri’s back; the two men quietly let out screams of the damned and Sylvain made a mental note to burn his hand off later.

“Huh... It does look quite comfy.” You mumbled, eyeing the spot where Sylvain just patted.

Please don’t sit here please don’t sit here please don’t sit here plea--

“Would you mind if I sat down for a bit?”

“Not at all.” Sylvain answered automatically, winking. It was in that moment that he truly regretted his playboy tendencies, and actually seriously considered change for a split second.  

“Great!” You skipped (more like limped) over to the silently screaming male(s). With a huff from you, Dimitri promptly felt something soft nestle into his rump; a portion of his soul disconnected from the mortal plane, never to be seen again.

“This... rock... feels kinda...” You shuffled in your ‘seat’ a bit. “soft.”

“A-A rock?! Soft?! Ha ha ha, don’t be silly, (F/N)!”

“And... This looks like Dimitri’s cape, does it not?”

“W-Why in the world would I have His Highness’s cape?”

“Well, that’s true... But, why would you put a piece of cloth on a rock like this?”

Sylvain just stopped working.

A good five seconds of silence ensued before the male finally found his tongue.

“Why wouldn’t you put a piece of cloth on a rock?”

“Well, if it’s an attempt to make the rock more comfortable, wouldn’t it make more sense to just... sit on the grass instead?”

“I mean, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spread a blanket on a rock for my own personal comfort, right?”

The throbbing in your head only worsened as you tried to comprehend this man’s logic.

“Um... sure.” You stood up. “I’m gonna go freshen myself up a bit before I head to dinner. See you later, Sylvain.”

“Y-Yeah! Of course! Catch ya later!”

Sylvain waved you and the very confused Felix goodbye and eagerly watched you leave. After making sure that you two left and no one else was nearby, Sylvain slowly leaned over.

“Your Highness--”

Dimitri shot up like a man reborn, shocking the redhead off him and wheezing for air.

“I couldn’t... B-Breathe...”

“Sorry about that, Your Highness...” Sylvain accidentally made eye contact with The Hand and he immediately gagged. “Let’s not... talk about what happened here. Ever.”

“Agreed.”

Both men sighed deeply.

“Well, you heard her. She’s gonna freshen up a bit before she goes to dinner so there’s no rush now. ... Well, you’d still probably like to rush a bit, since you’re currently in your briefs.”

“Thanks, Sylvain.” Dimitri grumbled, slipping his achy legs into the high-quality fabric and buttoning up his shirt. He readjusted the crooked pins and small medals that adorned his breast and smoothed away any wrinkles.

“You’re lookin’ snazzy, Your Highness.” Sylvain chuckled. “Now we just gotta fix up your hair a bit.”

“My hair? It looks fine though, does it not?”

“Yeah, sure, it looks fine but that’s about it. C’mon, think about it! You wear the exact same hairstyle day in and day out. We gotta give it more of a ‘wow’ factor.” Sylvain’s brows furrowed deeply as he studied Dimitri’s face closely. “... Y’know, this might just work.”

“Huh? S-Sylvain, what are you--?”

“Trust me, Your Highness. (F/N)’s gonna love it!”

With a quick swipe of his hand, Sylvain flipped Dimitri’s bangs onto one side of his face. Sylvain took a step back and crossed his arms, satisfied.

“Woo, now that’s a prince!” Sylvain whistled.

“D-Do I really look... princely?”

“Always have, buddy.” Sylvain threw an arm around Dimitri’s shoulder. “But right now? The princeliest of princes.”

Dimitri’s eyes crinkled happily and he bowed deeply to his dear friend.

“I thank you, Sylvain. From the bottom of my heart... thank you.”

“H-Hey now.” Sylvain laughed, cheeks reddening. “No need for all that! I’m just doing what I can to help you with this. You deserve to be happy, Deems.”

Dimitri smiled in response and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Ready, Your Highness?”

“Ready.”

[innenofutari]

Dimitri is one of the best lords of the entire franchise (Character Analysis)

[HUGE SPOILERS FOR MANY PARTS OF BLUE LIONS ROUTE]

Beware of spoilers! This is my messy attempt at conveying all my love for this route and lord, since he really touched my heart as no other Fire Emblem character previously did. And I posted this on Reddit as well, but figured I’d post here too because why the fuck not.

I just very recently finished the Blue Lions, and while I loved many parts of this route, what caught my attention the most was Dimitri. There is absolutely no way he isn't my favorite Fire Emblem character of all time now, and I would like to try and explain why, so here we go.

Right off the bat what made Dimitri painfully interesting to me was how similar his personality was to the common "kind, idealistic and naive" lord archetype we have in many games, but not quite.

In his nature, he is indeed kind and soft hearted, but his very own life goal goes against every single one of those principles, being something as ruthless and even bloodthirsty as revenge. For someone who feels like a monster for every life he takes, that's awfully contradictory if you ask me. And that's the key to Dimitri's conflicts, "contradiction".

Dimitri is a walking contradiction, he hates taking lives, and yet he obligates himself to do so, resulting in crippling self hatred. This forms an inescapable circle where, if he takes lives, he'll end up hating himself, but if he doesn't, he'll still hate himself for being incapable of avenging the dead and fulfilling the duty he established for himself. It's a maze with no exit that his trauma forced him in, creating two very opposing sides to his personality and actions.

Another thing that really pleased me with his writing, is that Dimitri's soft heartedness, kindness and naivety is never played as a quality, but as a flaw. Dimitri possesses an incredibly black/white, good/evil way to see the world, never realizing what's in between (which is very ironic, as he himself is a pretty morally grey character). This kind of thinking is one that clouds his judgement and makes it impossible for him to see the world as it is as well as impossible to truly forgive himself. Mercedes A support and Gilbert's entire support chain illustrate this perfectly.

Now, we get to the timeskip, where his mind and actions seemingly look like a totally insane person's who has broken down completely and just doesn't care about what he's doing. That seems like the first thing you'd assume, but I personally have a different way of interpreting timeskip Dimitri. For me, Dimitri is not insane nor crazy, he is totally aware of his own actions and in fact, willingly chose to act like the way he does until chapter 17. But rather the only way he saw of coping with the crushing self loathing he felt was by becoming the monster he thought he himself was. Dimitri thought that by completely forsaking his humanity and turning a blind eye to his own emotions, he could serve as the perfect vassal for the dead, with no will of his own.

One of my biggest gripes with Dimitri's character arc was that his change in chapter 17 felt way too abrupt for me especially since the writing until that point was so consistent and solid, but following this line of thought, it makes perfect sense for him to change so abruptly, since his timeskip change wasn't something that happened because he lost his mind, but a choice he willingly made and just a part of him that was always there resurfacing and taking control. Dimitri "turned into his old self" once again not because of the power of anime tropes, but because he dropped the whole "I'm a vassal for the dead with no identity nor humanity" thing the moment he saw a person he cared for dying in front of him, and he finally realized how selfish he was being, even if only for some minutes. Dimitri was sure that forsaking his humanity was the only way to stop his own suffering while simultaneously punishing himself (another one of this boy's contradictions), but he ultimately couldn't fully repress his "former self".

Rodrigue's death was the push Dimitri needed to finally realize that the dead didn't expect anything from Dimitri, and that he was his own person. Byleth later reaffirms Dimitri that he is his own person, and the dead shouldn't hold any power against him, to which he finally accepts and agrees to let go of hatred. Dedue mentions in chapter 18 if I remember correctly, that saying that Dimitri returned to his old self was an incorrect statement, since Dimitri had always been struggling with his two contradictory facets inside himself ever since the tragedy, and as he says in his Felix A support, they are both a part of him. This boy has been in constant emotional turmoil since the very first day we see him at the Monastery, living with those two conflicting parts inside of himself.

That's why Dimitri's development feels so satisfying, he's not only able to stop hating himself to such a crippling extent, but he also comes to understand that he is his own person. In his S support with Byleth he says that the voices of his dead loved ones will probably accompany him until his deathbed, but that this is a thing he now knows he's strong enough to fight against, successfully burying all the hatred his trauma has caused. His scene in Fhirdiad of him finally reclaiming the throne, and realizing that he is actually very beloved by his people, that they don't hold any kind of hatred or grudges towards him, will always do things to my heart. His whole life he just wanted to be forgiven, a thing he never allowed himself to do.

Thank you warriors who read up until this point, I'm well aware this is a massive wall of text but hey it was just made in good fun and love for Dimitri. Also, a last heads up but this is merely my own interpretation of Dimitri and by no means the absolute truth. Well written characters such as Dimitri can warrant a myriad of different interpretations, and this was just an attempt to share mine. (Would love to debate, too! Feel free to call me out since I have a tendency to overanalyze.)

[cavalierious-whim]

Resolve (FE3H)

Ingrid | Canon-Compliant | War Phase | Golden Deer Route |Teen | Complete “I love them,” says Ingrid. “But that love doesn’t mean anything if there isn’t a tomorrow.” ----

A/N: CW for mild angst as this takes place right before the Battle of Gronder. Read here on AO3 for better formatting! ----

Ingrid knows that her father loves her, but she wonders if he’ll ever forgive her.

Garreg Mach is familiar in a way that she’d nearly forgotten. She rubs her hand along a railing, looking out over the landscape. The leather of her glove blocks the cold of the stone underneath her fingers, but the air is still chilly enough to soak through her armor and deep into her bones.

She wonders if she’s made the right choice, coming here to fight for Claude. Actually, no, not for Claude, but the good of everyone. Still, she hesitates. She wonders.

She worries about her father and the other people that she loves.

She worries about Dimitri.

Byleth is quiet as he sneaks up next to her. He presses his hands against the railing beside her. “A gold for your thoughts?” asks the professor, leaning over to nudge at her shoulder gently with his own.

Ingrid can’t help but smile. Byleth is the rock in their rag-tag army. Barely an army. More like refugees with minor allies here and there, barely fed and barely with weapons. Claude says that he’s got a plan, but Ingrid is always caught wondering just how true that is. Claude is wily and secretive; part of her thinks that he’s three steps ahead and another thinks that he’s always flying by the seat of his pants.

Everyone knows what his endgame is, but no one knows his motives, and that in of itself is dangerous. Still, Ingrid’s made her choice and it’s too little, too late.

“Nothing, really,” says Ingrid finally. Her fingers grip the railing tightly and Byleth looks to her hands, lips pulling into a small frown. Ingrid sighs, knowing that it’s useless to lie. “Alright,” she continues, “a little bit of everything.”

“Everything is a lot,” says Byleth.

“Everything is everything.” It might sound odd, but it’s how she feels. If she doesn’t fight for everything than she fights for nothing. If she fights for nothing, then there isn’t any point left.

Ingrid wants a point, she needs a point. Needs a purpose, otherwise all those years she’s spent learning to throw a lance and fly a horse amount to nothing.

Being useless is her biggest fear.

“This won’t be an easy one,” says Byleth. He’s always upfront and blunt, but it’s rare for him to share what’s actually on his mind. Like Claude, he’s guarded in a lot of ways, carefully hiding the things that he takes to heart.

“I know,” says Ingrid. She hopes that it sounds stronger than the words feel, lodged painfully in her throat.

Byleth turns to regard her carefully, eyes lifting to meet her gaze. He’s hesitating, a sign that Ingrid won’t like whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t want to ask,” he starts, “but should I worry about how you might react out there?”

Ingrid knows what he means and that he’s trying to be nice about it, trying to turn a poison-tipped question into a more casual askance. But Byleth truly is concerned that she might turn tail and traitor.

If it were her in his position, Ingrid would think the same. It isn’t easy to overlook your past when it’s staring you in the face. Ingrid knows that she’ll see Sylvain and Felix and Dimitri out there. And they aren’t just Sylvain and Felix and Dimitri, they are her family, the strong boulders who’d held her up in the murky waters of her youth, the men who told her to be herself and that it was okay to be a knight and not a wife.

Ingrid feels the guilt that racks through her because she wonders if she should have stayed beside them, even if it went against her convictions for this war. What kind of knight, is a knight who isn’t loyal?

“I’ve cut all contact with my family since joining this fight,” says Ingrid after a long, tense moment. Byleth leans against the railing, listening intently. “Were I to see soldiers of the Galatea family amidst the host flying the royal banner, were I to see Sylvain and Felix and--” She pauses, heaving a sigh.

“All chance of reconciliation with my father would end there. I still don’t know if this is the right path, or if I should all but abandon them. But, the fact is, I’ve come this far. There’s no time for second-guessing. Not anymore.”

Byleth regards her for a long, quiet moment, and then says, “I would not want to be you.” He doesn’t mean ill by the statement. He wets his lips and then continues with, “None of us know if this is the right path, Ingrid. It is a fight that we take day by day. It is more likely to be disastrous than work in our favor. But we fight for a better future and I think that we will succeed.”

“A better future,” muses Ingrid. “Dimitri once spoke of such things. It might be a foolish, childish thing to say that I wish they find it themselves.”

“It isn’t,” says Byleth. He reaches out and presses a hand against her shoulder, squeezing. “I can keep you away from them if you wish. Send you the opposite direction were I to see them on the field.”

Ingrid considers this for a moment because she’s unsure what she’ll do if she comes face-to-face with the people that she loves. Finally, she says, “No. I would rather they face me than someone they don’t know. If it is to be the end, they will want to fall by someone they care for.”

“Maybe they won’t fall,” says Byleth.

Ingrid starts at that, turning towards the professor. “If they defect, will Claude accept them?”

Byleth is brutally honest at the worst of times. “Probably not,” he says. “But I would do my best to get him to see reason.” Byleth pauses. “Do you think they will defect?”

He already knows the answer though, and so does Ingrid. They wouldn’t, not ever. The Faerghus Four are now the Faerghus Three, brutally loyal to the crown even to their demise. Ingrid grips the railing so hard that she wonders if her fingers will snap in half.

Byleth squeezes her shoulder once more. “It’s war,” says Byleth. “It’s nasty, no good and it brings nothing but pain. But through that pain, a new future is born.”

“I love them,” says Ingrid. “But that love doesn’t mean anything if there isn’t a tomorrow.”

Byleth leans forward and presses a kiss against her forehead. It’s a strange, uncharacteristic show of friendship, but Ingrid’s eyes slip closed, falling into the gesture. She wants to cry. She won’t. She can’t.

“Get some sleep,” says Byleth when he pulls away. “Tomorrow will wait a few more days.”

Ingrid watches him leave, then turns back to barely watching the landscape. The sun slips downward, dipping just below the horizon as it throws purples and pinks and reds everywhere.

Sylvain would love this sunset and wax poetic about it. Felix would pretend to hate it, but stare anyway, mouth twitching into a tiny little smile. Dimitri would say nothing, only soaking in the softness of the moment shared between friends.

Well, that’s what they would have done as children. They aren’t children anymore.

“Have I chosen wrong, Glenn?” asks Ingrid, even though she’s utterly alone on the parapet.

Glenn doesn’t answer, but Ingrid likes to think that he’d fight for a new dawn as well.

[sharyrazade]

Maybe it’s because I was spoiled by Ashnard (BL/AM spoilers)

Having pre-battle convos with everyone and their grandmother, but as hype as the battle with a certain Lovecraftian Juliette Caesar in Three Houses was, I was a little...disappointed by the lack of pre-battle exchanges with her. I mean, it’s completely justifiable plot-wise to only have Byleth and Dimitri having them, but I was still mildly disappointed by the missed opportunity, so I took the opportunity to correct it myself! This was originally only supposed to be with the other Black Eagles, but you know how things get with me; they snowball.

Okay, I can’t (and won’t) take credit for ALL of these. Just most of them.

HE: So I see you have betrayed the Empire after all, Ferdinand. It seems you truly are so petty to commit treason over an old rivalry. Or perhaps you simply want the throne for yourself...

Ferdinand: I am anything but, Edelgard. This mad dream of yours- it ends today.

HE: You always were an arrogant bastard. Do you truly believe you can match my power?

Ferdinand: I cannot and I accept that fact. But as long as I have the Professor and all of our allies by my side, we cannot- will not lose!

HE: Arrogant insect! I’ll crush you like I should have done ages ago!

Linhardt: So your crests did hide such power after all...fascinating.

HE: Stare all you like, Linhardt. For I will be the last thing you see!

Linhardt: [sighs] It’s a shame. In all of the Empire’s history, perhaps no other ruler has used the talents at her command to the degree you have...But all the same, no other emperor has chosen a path so incredibly stupid. Farewell, Edelgard. I suppose it won’t do anyone any good to let you live in this state.

Caspar: [shocked] Edelgard! W-what the hell happened to you?!

HE: I’ve become more powerful than you could ever dream of, Caspar. You have chosen very poorly to stand against me.

Caspar: I could say the same! I’ve got no interest in gaining power just to trample on the weak like you do! And that you’re ready to become a monster to get it?!

HE: Come, show me how strong you’ve become- let me crush you!

HE: Is that you, Bernadetta? Tell me; what does the little mouse have to say before the eagle swoops in to claim her?

Bernadetta:..I finally understand what it is I wanted. I wanted you to acknowledge me. To accept me as an equal, not a vassal...But that’s not enough. You said to me “can you not live unless you were born for some purpose?” I’m not living for anyone else. There’s no special meaning in living. When I sensed my own death, I wanted to live. I know now. That’s all I needed. So...I don’t need you anymore, Edelgard. It doesn’t matter if you accept me or not. Here I am. Alive! And we will defeat you!

HE: You’ve acquired some impudent wisdom, Bernadetta. Too bad you’ve acquired it too late to do you any good! Die!

HE: [Angry monstrosity noises]

Dorothea: [sadly] Oh, Edie...what’s become of you...? I suppose...it would be the least I could do...

HE: You would dare raise your weapon to me, Petra? Your sister of sorts? After everything the Empire’s done for Brigid?

Petra: Yes, I will. I believe in the Professor. And I will not sacrificing the life of my people for your dreams, Edelgard!

HE: Insolent girl! Once I’m done with you, I’ll raze those damnable islands and salt the earth!

HE: You lowly lapdog! You would dare turn your blade against the savior of your people?! On behalf of the King of Faerghus?!

Dedue: [smug] Yes. Yes, I would. It seems you’ve taken on an appropriately monstrous form to match your soul, Emperor of Adrestia. And THAT is exactly why I believe in His Highness and the Professor- instead of you.

HE: Prepare to justify your poor choices to your butchered kin and people- your reunion with them is imminent!

HE: Grrrah! Fraldarius dog! Had it not been for you and your cursed family-

Felix: Shut up. This will be the greatest fight of my life. I don’t intend to have you ruin it with your babbling. Besides, I’ve got a score to settle with you on behalf of my father and brother anyway.

HE: Discuss it with them in the next life! Die!

Felix: Show me what you can do, Emperor of Adrestia.

Ashe: [disturbed] Waaaah! E-edelgard? Is...that really...you?

HE: You! You are the lowliest scum of them all! Raising your bow against me in favor of the murderers of Lonato and Christophe!

Ashe: Don’t...you dare speak their names, Edelgard! The very last thing they would want is for me to “live” like you- obsessed with revenge!

HE: If you are so confident in their answer, ask them yourself! Die!

Sylvain: Eeesh, I’ve heard of stress aging people, but this is ridiculous.

HE: You insolent fop! You want nothing more than to be liberated from your crest, but turn your blade against your liberator!

Sylvain: Oh, you know what? I changed my mind. That won’t matter after we beat the snot out of you anyway.

HE: Allow me to relieve you from your tortured existence then!

HE: Do you truly seek to meet your goddess so soon, weakling?

Mercedes: [softly] Dear Goddess, please forgive what I’m about to do- please grant this tortured soul the peace she was unable to find in life.

HE: [angry] Don’t you DARE pity me!

Annette: (Alright, Annie, this is it. Just stay calm, and start casting)

HE: You weak-hearted fool. Still content in your servitude for nothing in return. A pathetic old fool of a knight sires a pathetic, foolish daughter- how poetic.

Annette: [angry] Alright, you’ve done it now, Edelgard!

HE: You insignificant gnat! Do you truly love your sorry lot in life so? You hate your station and its burdens, but wish to throw your life away for this rabble?

Ingrid: Maybe I do. But I do know one thing for certain: I hate tyrants like you more!

Lorenz: [shocked] Edelgard?! How ghastly!

HE: This is what true power looks like. Your foolish notions of chivalry and noble obligations have no place in my new world.

Lorenz: [irritated] I might say the same of you and your tyranny. En garde!

HE: You musclebound dolt. What is it you truly hope to gain, standing against me?

Raphael: I made a promise to myself and everyone when you attacked the monastery. No matter who I had to do it from, I’d protect my sis and all of our friends from the Empire- even if I’ve gotta throw down with you, Edelgard!

HE: I assure you, all of them- and your dear sister- are not long for this world!

HE: I’m somewhat impressed that you found the courage to stand against me, worm. Do you truly hate your life so much?

Ignatz: [slightly disturbed] N-not at all. I love my life- I love this world. That’s why...I’m willing to give it to protect the world from you!

HE: The world needs me! It does not need insignificant specks like you!

HE: This is most unfortunate. We are very much the same, Lysithea. And yet you still have chosen poorly- for that, you must pay with your life.

Lysithea: If I had followed your path...would this have happened to me, as well...? As someone who shares your fate...Edelgard! I will destroy you!

Marianne:..

HE: Out of all our school chums, you probably confound me the most. You should be crawling to me, begging to be a part of my new order. To take revenge on those who scorned and mocked you your entire life. Called you a monster.

Marianne: [softly] Monster...

HE: I am Fódlan’s only hope for a future not shrouded in darkness!

Marianne: [angry] Edelgard! Your life ends at my hands!

Hilda:...Yikes! Talk about a bad look on you.

HE: All you EVER had to do was hand over the Hero’s Relic and TRY to convince that scheming bastard to stand down. You could have had a life of comfort, luxury, and more wealth than you could have ever known what to do with!

Hilda: And betray Claude, the Professor, and my brother? Don’t think so!

HE: It seems I misjudged you.

Hilda: Damn right you did, you freak!

HE: My new world has far greater use for your skills than this lot. Why then have you chosen these bluebloods and malcontents?

Leonie: What kind of use? Trampling on the weak? Brutally killing your enemies, real or imagined? No thanks! I’d never be able to look myself- let alone Captain Jeralt- in the eye ever again!

HE: Your reverence for that admittedly-powerful freak of nature shall be your downfall, Leonie.

Leonie: “Freak?!” Oh-ho, that’s it, Edelgard; your freakish ass is mine!

Assuming he’s engaged Myson (because that’s what I did)

Seteth: [shocked] Of course! Those attacks...THAT’S what you needed with Flayn’s blood and Rhea both. You and your friends!

HE: Nosy old fossils such as yourself have no place in my new world- or any world! Do it a favor and die already!

Seteth: [simmering anger] Well said, Edelgard. In the name of Fódlan, your victims, the Goddess, and Nabatea alike, may your tyranny wither and die at my blade!

Flayn: Edelgard please! Cease this madness and release Rhea! For everyone’s sake!

HE: A creature like you is incapable of appreciating the ideal world that I have envisioned.

Flayn: How can your world be ideal when you’ve killed countless innocent people?!

HE: You...beast! Don’t tell me what’s right and wrong!

Hanneman: Edelgard?! Goddess, THIS is the sort of power that lies dormant in crests?! I suppose, given the potential complications with Hero’s Relics and incompatible crests...

HE: I tire of your babbling, old man! Die!

Manuela: [sadly] I always knew you were a little rough around the edges- hell, I was back in my day- still am. But this-

HE: Manuela, you insufferable old hag! You couldn’t have just left the stage gracefully, could you? Allow me to grant you one last curtain call! Die!

Gilbert:..

HE: [smug] Well, well, this pathetic old knight has come to me to seek penance for his failure.

Gilbert: Not quite, lass. In the name of both the daughter and king whom I could not be there for, your tyranny ends here, Emperor of Adrestia!

HE: I shall grant you the death you seek, you pathetic wretch!

Alois: Edelgard! It is high time you answered for your crimes!

HE: What, no stupid jokes or puns?

Alois: No. For Captain Jeralt...I would have followed them to the ends of the earth and into the eternal flames- even if it meant serving you. Boy, that was a close one!

HE: Well, discuss it with him in the afterlife! I shall send your dear wife and daughter there to greet you as well!

HE: [smug] Take a good look, Cassandra. It seems your beloved Lady Rhea’s existence has finally contributed something of value to the world.

Catherine: [furious] EDELGARD! I’ll cut you into a thousand pieces, then grind you into dust!

HE: Show yourself, wretch! Know that I will find you eventually, and when I do...

Shamir: Yep, that definitely settles it. No way am I getting paid anywhere close to enough for this.

HE: What a pest you are!

Cyril: I fight for everything living and breathing and all of your victims. I fight for the Professor and all of our friends. But most of all, I fight for Lady Rhea! And it’s in all their names that I will crush you, Emperor of Adrestia! I won’t let you steal another innocent life!

[bae-leth]

This is definitely not how things are gonna turn out but I’m kind of a sucker for doomed timeline AUs and my Blue Lions bias is calling to me after E3, so I hope you enjoy! I am so so SO sorry it’s soooo long, I got carried away. But yeah, hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~

Ingrid, soft-spoken and unwavering, was the first of them to fall.

Dimitri knew he should’ve never sent her on a mission so far away, practically skirting the volatile border between Faerghus and Adrestia. It didn’t matter that it was a simple escort mission, that Ingrid had been on more than handful of them before, that she’d travelled even farther than that for some missions. At the very least, he shouldn’t have sent her alone.

“Milord, you can’t spare any of the others with how tense things are right now. I’m capable.”

“Can’t you wait for another mission? I’ve been receiving troubling reports about the border.”

“My family doesn’t have the luxury of waiting anymore, milord. I…We need the money.”

The money. A noble house near ruin, desperately in need of money to the point that Ingrid would repeatedly throw herself into dangerous situations. He understood why she was so desperate, having heard the rumors of an earlier incident with the Black Eagles’ Dorothea Arnold.

But he should have refused. Then he wouldn’t have to be in his room, dawn quickly approaching, with the letter he needs to send to Ingrid’s family to inform them of their daughter’s death not done.

A powerful Bolganone spell, burning her Pegasus to nothing and leaving barely anything of Ingrid to find. Adrestia’s known for their mages the messenger who delivered the news stated, not even bothering to wait for Dimitri to stop shaking, to overpower the need to throw up, to make his comment.

He snapped at the man, sending him off with an uncharacteristic glare. He had informed the Empire well in advance that Ingrid would be in the area. Edelgard had responded promptly. Adrestia wouldn’t threaten to break years of peace, uneasy as it may be at times. No, they wouldn’t. She wouldn’t.

But Ingrid was still dead, her body laying in the morgue, waiting to go home. She would’ve been devastated to hear of the fate of her dear Pegasus. Devastated to know there was no body to bury with her, as she had once mentioned offhandedly back in their school days.

The letter still wasn’t started when a maid came to inform him that breakfast was ready.

~~~~~~~~~

Ashe, eager to please and wearing his heart on his sleeve, never truly recovered from his adoptive father’s death.

Dimitri was an idiot to ever think otherwise, to not pay closer attention. After all, Ashe was a master of hiding his grief and frustration, a trick of the trade from a childhood spent in the slums. But Ashe had become more open after Sir Ronato took him in, gave him a home, an education, a family. The old lord had become everything to Ashe, his world. His idolization of the man was no secret to anyone.

Of course, it would stand to reason that Sir Ronato’s death would cause the young boy to lapse into old habits. But Dimitri didn’t see it, didn’t search for it. But he was worried, particularly due to reports of more hostile remnants of Sir Ronato’s rebellion feeling furious at Ashe for “betraying” Sir Ronato, for biting the hand that fed him. This is what happens when you show pity for street rats, they said. It was a dangerous situation. And so, after graduation, he invited Ashe to spend some time at the castle, under the guise of training with the famous knights of Faerghus.

“Heh, you’re such a worrywart, Your Highness. I’m alright on my own! Besides I’ve got…Gaspard Castle to look after now.”

“Are you truly fine, Ashe?”

“…Yes, I am…But fine, if it’ll ease your mind, I’ll stay at the castle for a little while.”

A week later, Dimitri messed up. He let Ashe stay in the room when updated reports of the remaining members of Sir Ronato’s rebellion came in, about how they seemed to be lingering around Gaspard Castle. He underestimated Ashe’s abilities to sneak out of the castle, despite the number of guards stationed all over, despite the extra guards he assigned outside Ashe’s room on the off chance something would happen.

Gaspard Castle was eerily quiet once he and Dedue reached it, the pair having raced ahead of the rest of the soldiers. Yet there were telltale signs of fighting all over. Cracked windows, dislodged stones, cuts deep in the door…blood…so much blood…

Dedue was the one to speak to the remaining soldiers once they caught up. Leaving Dimitri in the room that could belong to none but Ashe. Staring at the still, bruised, and bloody figure of the young boy curled up in bed, looking for all the world asleep.

They never find enough evidence to charge anyone, no matter how much Dimitri searches.

~~~~~~~~~

Sylvain, friendly and passionate, disappears without a trace.

It’s terrifying how similar it is to a case from their days in the academy, which also happened to involve a member of the Gautier family, Sylvain’s disinherited older brother if he remembered correctly. Despite it occurring with Faerghus, the Church dispatched the Black Eagles to take care of the matter. Without giving him much information, even though it’s his homeland they’re in, Church orders or not. Not even Sylvain received the full story. All they were told was a mysterious beast appeared and that the Adrestian students had taken care of it. Not even a day later, Sylvain received word his brother had vanished, although he should have been at the castle where the beast was, the castle being all his brother had left to his name after being born with a crest.

Dimitri tried to speak with Edelgard, or even Professor Byleth who oversaw the Black Eagles, but he never got more information. Not even his attempts to get an audience with Lady Rhea made any progress…It was suspicious…

But he trusted Edelgard, truly he did. They may have different ideals in many categories, but Edelgard wouldn’t…couldn’t…

Without any more information, nothing could be done. As far as the records knew, Sylvain’s brother went missing and was presumed killed during the beast’s attack. Sylvain was frustrated but begrudgingly accepted the flimsy story…And then, just a few weeks earlier, Sylvain had said something strange.

“Milord, do you believe in the crests? That they’re a treasure and something we should hold with pride?”

“Sylvain? Where is this coming from? …Are you feeling alright? You’ve been looking sickly for a while now.”

“…I didn’t run off…No matter what anyone says, I didn’t run…And neither did my brother…”

Sylvain left soon after that, practically in a trance, never giving Dimitri a chance to ask him to explain. But the pieces started to fall into place once he received the news of another mysterious beast attacking near Gautier territory. Which was once again dealt with by the Adrestians, on the Church’s orders, without so much as informing Dimitri of the situation until it was already “taken care of”. And a few days later came the news that Sylvain Jose Gautier was missing…He had always known that no matter how high one was ranked, all followed the Church…And yet…And yet…Sylvain…

Dimitri didn’t sleep that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. If Dedue noticed how dark the bags under his eyes were getting, he never said so aloud. Dedue just left various types of tea and herbal remedies by his table each night. Felix wasn’t nearly as considerate, telling him constantly to his face that he “looked like shit”. But his grip was unusually gentle when he grabbed Dimitri’s arm and dragged him to his room after Dimitri nearly collapses during a light sparring session.

He stopped responding to Edelgard’s letters.

~~~~~~~

Annette, clumsy but the hardest worker you could meet, died a month later, and Dimitri had no one to blame but himself.

Medicinal teas didn’t work. No known potions worked. Spells were 50/50, but overusing magic like that could have adverse effects on his body in the long run. But sleep was elusive. Once in a while it’d come, and he would get four, five, even six hours of much needed rest. But then the cycle would start again. One day, two days, three days, four…If this kept up, he wouldn’t be able to finish his work…

He had been having tea with Annette, listening to the young girl’s words about her latest studies in magic, about how she’d been taking a try at making potions, but the results constantly blew up in her face, sometimes to somewhat dangerous extents. Potion making was a very tricky art, she had said, explaining that the most careful person and the clumsiest still run the same risks. Suddenly, his vision went black. What seemed like mere seconds later, he opened his eyes, noticing that he was slumped over the small table, the teapot and cups shattered on the ground, and Annette hovering over him, teary eyed and looking ready to bolt for help. Dimitri quickly, but unsteadily, set himself to rights, trying to calm Annette’s concerns, assure her that he just hadn’t been sleeping right.

Annette didn’t believe his claims that a sudden blackout could occur after missing one night of sleep. She puffed out her cheeks and constantly darted in front of him whenever he tried to escape the room. Eventually, he gave up and told her the whole story, of his terrible insomnia that had started with Sylvain and refused to bow to any treatment.

“So, nothing has been working, huh Prince Dimitri? Well, maybe no one’s made the right potion for you yet!”

“Right potion…Right…The right potion…Forgive me, Annette, I swear I’m not normally like this- “

“No, no, say no more! Please hang in there a little longer! I’ll double my efforts, just for you! Oh, but I better be quick about it, you really don’t look good at all…”

He should’ve understood her words. If it had been before, before things started going to hell, before his friends started dropping one after the other, he would’ve noticed, he’s sure of it. But the tea with Annette came after five nights without sleep. It was nothing but a miracle that he had been able to make passable conversation with the young girl until he passed out. And so, he sent her off without a word, without remembering the stories she had been telling him just minutes earlier.

Damn him. Damn him for actually being shocked when he got the noticeably tear stained letter from Mercedes a week later, telling her that Annette had been mortally wounded during an accident while making potions. Damn him for having the gall to go to Annette, dear little Annette, to say his goodbyes because nothing could be done, as if he had any right. Damn him for running like a coward when Annette spoke her last words, apologizing for not getting the potion right.

Damn him, damn him, damn him…

That night, when Dedue came to Dimitri’s room with a new blend of tea that would hopefully bring the prince some rest, a desperately made concoction of every plant in his garden that produces drowsiness, he opened the door to find the young prince of Faerghus crumpled in his bed, muffling sobs into his arms. Dimitri met Dedue’s shock gaze with tear filled eyes, and yet he couldn’t compose himself.

He couldn’t…How could he take this anymore? Ingrid…Ashe…Sylvain…Annette…

Dedue sat beside Dimitri for the rest of the night, forgoing all propriety for the sake of gently running his fingers through Dimitri’s hair, trying to bring some peace.

~~~~~~~~~

Mercedes, the sweetest girl and finest surrogate sister anyone could find, fell in battle and Dimitri, worthless prince he is, wasn’t aware of any of it.

Brigands…? Enemy soldiers…? Ah, no, that’s right, it was another group of rebels this time around. Dimitri shouldn’t have been on the battlefield. He hadn’t slept in three days. He couldn’t eat anything the previous night, or that morning either. His advisors had pleaded with him. Dedue had bowed on his hands and knees, begging over and over for him to rest. Felix had tried locking him in his room, only to be thwarted when Dimitri threatened and then actually attempted to escape through the window, despite the death-defying fall awaiting him should he slip. But no, stupid, stupid, stupid. He had to come. On his honor as Faerghus’ prince, as the one his people counted on to protect them. The one who had to protect others…Even if he’s nothing but a failure…

Mercedes hadn’t said anything to him, even though they were to set out to the battle soon. He couldn’t blame her. She knew why Annette died, he told her as much after the funeral. She despised him, a weak-willed coward who claimed to be a reliable leader. Leader of what though? Dedue, Felix, and Mercedes were all that was left. But he was still the prince, he had to lead the soldiers, lead his kingdom. But…

Mercedes had turned to him at that moment. Dimitri could only watch dumbly as she gently cupped his face in her warm hands, a soft, broken smile on her face.

“Will you push yourself forever, Prince Dimitri? Will you work and fight until you break? Is this truly what you should be doing?”

“They need me…You all need me…I won’t…can’t…I need this, Mercedes. If I lose this too, then…”

“No, you don’t need this. But you won’t listen anymore…Very well, rely on us. Rely on me. You will return home alive, my prince.”

He wouldn’t listen anymore. Yes, that was true. If he had listened for once, if he had thought things through…The battle was fierce. And he hadn’t realized how much he relied on Ingrid’s distractions, Ashe’s sharp eye, Annette’s magical prowess, and Sylvain’s tenacity…or how lacking their team was without them. Maybe that was why that arrow flew true, jamming right into his eye without any warning.

As he fell to the ground, screaming as he covered his face, blood seeping through his fingers, exhaustion seemingly intensifying everything to unbearable levels, part of him couldn’t help but think about the archer who got him. What skilled archery, what incredible aim. So much like Claude…Too much like-

No, no, no, no, no…They weren’t anywhere near Leicester. Claude wasn’t in Faerghus, he’d know. He wouldn’t risk war, he was too clever for that, Dimitri knew that! Just like he knew with Adrestia, like with Edelgard. He’d know, he’d know…He’d know! He would! They wouldn’t…They…wouldn’t…?

Selfish fool he is, too lost in himself, he never realized there was a woman ferociously protecting him from incoming soldiers until back up could reach them. He didn’t notice when she fell, one arrow to many, one sword too many…He wakes up a day later in the medical wing. He can’t see out of one of his eyes. Even in his dazed state, he knows it’s gone…He should be angrier about that, shouldn’t he…?

Felix, despite Dedue warning him against it from the bed he is confined to, tells him Mercedes is dead. He never was the type to mince words, huh?

Dimitri doesn’t know what the others see in that moment. All he knows is that Felix lunges at him, Dedue trying to scramble from his bed, several healers rushing towards him, staffs raised.

He doesn’t wake up again until two weeks have passed.

~~~~~~~

Dedue. Ever gentle and ever loyal. They were…supposed to visit Daska together…

Dimitri hadn’t adjusted to his new eyepatch yet. As he had suspected, the eye couldn’t be saved. He would have to learn how to battle with one eye, relearn how to handle everything, relearn how to judge distances, both in battle and in life. And yet he wasn’t trying. There he was, lazily lying on his bed for the third week in a row. The doctors had said that, other than the eye and severe exhaustion, he was alright. But he confined himself to his room since that stupid battle. Unopened letters from Claude were piling up on his table. He didn’t answer anymore, but Claude was refusing to back down. At least Edelgard had stopped trying months ago. If either of them ever came to visit him personally…He truly hoped it wouldn’t happen…

Dedue had tried to get him to eat more, but he only ate a few mouthfuls of most meals before the nausea overwhelmed him, making him push the plates away and crawl back under the covers of his bed. Dedue had tried to cut Dimitri’s hair, noticing that it had been steadily growing over his weeks of confinement. But Dimitri had slapped the scissors out of Dedue’s hands, so the matter was left alone for now. Instead Dedue increased his efforts to get food into Dimitri, to find ways to help him sleep, to take care of his eye so that the wound would heal properly, to make him wash himself because even that much had become exhausting to the prince. It was pathetic how Dimitri was forcing his dear friend and retainer to become his personal caretaker.

Felix, who had always been a constant visitor over the years, was now a daily presence at the castle. Surprisingly, he never tried to drag him down to the training grounds. Instead, he’d push him over and lay down next to him on the bed, not saying a thing no matter what Dimitri did. Not when Dimitri stubbornly ignored him, not when Dimitri growled at him to leave, not when he screamed so loudly and fiercely that the soldiers would run in with weapons drawn, not when he actually got into a fist fight with the other man…Not even when he was too tired to do anything but press his face against Felix’s shoulder and cry…

The nobles of Faerghus were growing immensely dissatisfied with their weak-willed prince. Some of the more ambitious, and black hearted, had resorted to assassination attempts. Not that Dimitri was ever aware, to lost in himself and his own pity to pay attention. But Dedue…Always protective, always on guard…Always ready to give everything for Dimitri, even though he never deserved someone so incredible.

“Your Highness, please stop saying those things about yourself. I follow you because I have the utmost faith in you. Nothing has changed that.”

“…There’s only three of us left, Dedue…Go home to Daska…Please…Leave me.”

“That is one order I can never follow, Your Highness.”

And yet he did follow that order in the end. Dimitri’s latest assassination attempt came in the form of a band of highly trained assassins, who snuck into the castle late at night, through one of the few blind spots the castle guard had. When Dimitri, sleepless as ever, spotted the group, he laid quiet and still. His peace would finally come to him…Finally…Finally…

But Dedue, ever vigilant, had figured it out. Had burst into the room and fought off every one of them, even as they all stabbed wildly. One of them got a lucky shot, a blade slicing at the right spot on his neck. Dedue collapsed gracelessly, motionless in seconds. The sole survivor of the assassin group had turned to Dimitri to quickly finish the job.

A minute later, guards alerted to the sound of chaos entered Dimitri’s room to a grisly sight. Dedue, the prince’s retainer, lying in a pool of blood. Bodies of assassins scattered around the room among broken furniture. And Dimitri himself, screaming wildly, stabbing the broken leg of a table into the unmoving body of an assassin over and over and over…

It was only Felix’s diligence that kept Dimitri from following Dedue to the grave in the weeks to follow.

~~~~~~~

Felix…Combative and rude…Always ready to challenge him, to yell at him…Always by his side, for years and years…His most cherished childhood friend…

The bastard deserved it.

Felix effectively moved into the castle following Dedue’s death. Which suited Dimitri just fine. The prince started training again and he could use a skilled sparring partner like Felix. He would never be caught off guard again. He wouldn’t let another be forced to make up for his uselessness again. He. Would. Protect. Others.

But no, Felix suddenly decided that sparring was too good for him. As if that didn’t make up so much of their friendship. From the time they were young, pretending sticks were swords and boulders were fortresses. Felix now decided that talking was all he wanted. Talking about the others, about Dimitri, about the unrest among the Faerghus nobility, about the unanswered messages from Edelgard, Claude, and even Professor Byleth.

He didn’t want to talk. He needed to train! He had become used to the eyepatch at long last.

He needed to sleep, to eat, Felix would respond. To cut that mop of hair of his.

That would come later. He needed to become stronger.

Physically, he was plenty strong, Felix said. Mentally though…Emotionally…

Since when did that matter though? It’s strength on the battlefield that brings in results in the end. Shouldn’t Felix understand that? Dimitri thought they were supposed to be best friends.

But Felix said they were best friends, and that’s precisely why he was tired of Dimitri’s crap. The Dimitri of now, Felix said, was on the verge of shattering, of breaking beyond repair. Felix wanted to do all he could to stop that. Sparring, as much as he loved it, wouldn’t do anything for Dimitri. Not if his heart and mind weren’t there.

Dimitri scoffed and left him at that moment. How dare that asshole…Since when was Felix so sentimental? Did he think he was better than Dimitri? Is that why he was trying to act all mature now? Why doesn’t he leave that kind of garbage to someone like Dedue-?

…He wondered how much longer things would last…

A week later, he learned of a nasty skirmish between the kingdom’s soldiers and some mages. Adrestian mages…? And there were some skilled archers there too. From…Leicester…perhaps…? Whatever, they were there, and his soldiers needed help. But Dimitri was running on nothing. On two hours of sleep in a week and five meals in just as much time. And after…that battle…he wouldn’t, couldn’t go to battle like he is again. But they needed support, so he ordered more soldiers on their way. But they could use more skilled help.

Felix said he’d go. Dimitri snapped.

“They need help. They need leadership, and you’re in no state to go there, so I’m the next best thing. It’s an emergency, so quit your griping, you damn boar!”

“You could never lead to save your damn life! …Please, please, please…I’ll talk, is that what you want? Whatever you want, whenever you want. I’ll stop training, I’ll talk, I’ll eat, sleep, I’ll…I swear, I’ll-”

“Breathe, Dimitri…Okay, fine…Let’s go to your room then…”

Damn bastard…He always turned into a filthy liar whenever he was stubborn about something. The second they entered the room, a splitting pain hit the back of his head and he passed out. He woke hours later in the medical wing, the doctors explaining he’d taken a blow to the head but that he’d recover just fine.

…Faerghus won the battle…He was taken to the field, which had been in chaos while he was out cold. Bodies of his land’s soldiers and the enemy lay everywhere.

…Felix had been a demon on the battlefield. His skills were what saved the day, grateful soldier after grateful soldier told Dimitri. But that damn man…magic was always his weakness…Being grazed by a Thoron spell could paralyze most people…Being struck dead-on by one though…

The soldiers walked away as Dimitri stared at Felix’s burned, still body…Surrounded by fallen soldiers, his prized sword broken in two beside him.

Nearby soldiers flinched and turned in shock when Dimitri let out a practically primal yell and threw himself at Felix’s body, punching it over and over again. The men scrambled to him and grabbed the wild prince, tearing him away, struggling as the man desperately reached out at Felix, fingers clawing in the direction of the fallen man. They didn’t understand…Wasn’t Felix their prince’s childhood friend? He was a savior. How could the prince treat a fallen friend’s body like this?

But Dimitri no longer cared. Animalistic screams tore out of his throat, tears cascaded down his face. Damn Felix! Damn that lying ass! Damn him, damn him, damn him!

He would never forgive him.

~~~~~~~

“We are the future of Faerghus, the knights who will lead the kingdom.”

No one left…No one but him…Worthless, useless him…

“I…I may be your prince, but please remember I’m also your friend. You can speak to me about whatever you wish!”

He should’ve taken a page from Edelgard’s book, remained aloof and aware. Or perhaps be more like Claude, always on guard, hiding behind a pleasant smile. He wouldn’t be suffering like this then…

“Remember to get along with the students from Adrestia and Leicester. It’s important that we maintain strong bonds between our lands, so war will never curse us again.”

The reports were coming in. The Adrestian Empire…The Leicester Alliance…There was something brewing under the surface…And the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus itself…The nobility was furious, the commoners uneasy…Fragile peace would shatter soon. Fodlan was going to die.

“I swear I will do my utmost to lead Faerghus. And I will be relying on you all as well. We are a team; it is our honor to work together for the sake of those who needs us!”

Who was left for him to lead…? Who still needed him now…?

“It is the duty of those in power to protect the weak, the ones who don’t have the strength to fight for themselves!”

To protect…the weak…Yes, the weak. The weak who were constantly being abused by the strong. By Adrestia’s military might…By Leicester’s unparalleled spy network…By Faerghus’ selfish nobles, who would throw the innocent to the wolves for their own needs…

“The Blue Lions are honor bound to defend the innocent, for Fodlan’s future.”

For…the ones who can’t fight back…Who can no longer fight back, no matter how much he dreams of it. No matter how often the wonderful, painful memories plague his mind.

“We must do whatever we can! But remember, we are knights. We won’t shame our homeland by acting without reason, without chivalry.”

Even if he had to raze Adrestia and Leicester to the ground…Even if he had to bring ruin to Faerghus itself…

“We can help Fodlan grow stronger and more united.”

Fodlan could rebuild…They must start again, from zero.

“I’m depending on you all. The eight of us are strong together. There’s nothing we can’t accomplish.”

…Felix, Dedue, Ingrid, Mercedes, Ashe, Sylvain, Annette…

“We’re counting on you, Leader!”

And he would never fail them again.

[kendrixtermina]

Further Unique engage quotes compiled by the heroic souls at one of the wikis

For those of us too busy actually trying to win to try out all matchups that might result in dialogue. 

The friend pairs

For example here’s what happens if you make Caspar and Linny fight:

Caspar: Looks like we ended up on opposing sides, Linhardt! Linhardt: Certainly seems that way. I could almost weep over how things turned out. Do you realize, Caspar, that this is the first time we've ever fought? Caspar: Yeah, I think you're right. The first and probably the last!

Not one fight ever? What a pure friendship. Apparently most the preexiting friend groups that you can split up through recruitment get unique dialogues.

Ignatz and Rafael:

Raphael: Outta my way, Ignatz! I don't wanna have to fight you! Ignatz: Stop deluding yourself. You joined the Empire. Didn't you consider the consequences? I don't want to fight you either, Raphael! But this is war. Raphael: Ignatz...

Marianne and Hilda:

Marianne: I-I'm so sorry, Hilda. I... Hilda: It's OK, Marianne. These things happen in war

Anette and Mercie:

Annette: Mercie... Mercedes: Now, now, Annie. There's no need for that. This is a battlefield, after all. Annette: I'm so sorry... You know that, don't you? And also know that you don't have to forgive me... Mercedes: I was going to say the same thing. I'm so sorry if I cause you any pain.” — Mercedes as an enemy when fighting Annette in Crimson Flower Chapter 17, or as an ally when fighting Annette in Crimson Flower Chapter 18.

Single Tear Emoji.

Always make sure to recruit them in pairs, I suppose.

Edelgard vs. TSWITD

Also finally a sourced transcript of the ‘Edelgard almost blows her cover to get Byleth revenge for Jeralt‘ exchanges.

Death Knight: What are you trying to do here? Edelgard: You're the one who should be answering that question. Stay out of my way! Edelgard: Tomas! No... Solon. I will stop you. Solon: What?! If you insist on turning your blade against me, then expect no mercy.” — Edelgard, fighting Solon in Chapter 8. “Kronya: Huh? What are you- Are you here to kill me? Edelgard: I am. Prepare yourself for death while you still can.” — Edelgard fighting Kronya in Chapter 10. “Solon: So, this is how it is... I cannot let you live! Edelgard: You stole the words from my mouth. You lost the moment you failed to kill the professor.

One of the salient details here is that judging by the exchange with the death knight she most certainly didn’t know or have control over what they were doing/planning which is what I’ve been saying since day 1 but it’s nice to see that im not just imagining it

This is also interesting from an ‘identity porn’ sorta vantage point, because on the one hand she’s acting (about not knowing these people), but on the other she’s very much not (about being repulsed by them and wanting to kill them)

There was definitely a conscious decision on her side to dispose of Solon and Kronya not even just for noble reasons but purely pragmatic ones: it was apparent that she couldn’t control them, that they would just go on to murder and butcher all around, besides, Kronya was ridiculously bad at being undercover and had already compromised their stealth, it’s a recurring theme that the Agarthans don’t take surface humans very seriously. 

For all that personal sympathy for Byleth certainly played a role here and that she took a risk for their sake, Edelgard was also definitely looking to get rid of an inconvenience/ mighty enemy who had outlived their usefulness, and to use Byleth and the class to accomplish that aim but still maintain plausible deniability, she could tell Thales that she had no choice but to fight Solon and Kronya since the rest of her class was there to witness. 

Re: Solon, I also recently read this interesting essay on essay pointing out that just from what we see of their conversations among themselves TWSITD didn’t grasp Byleth’s identity until halfway through (for one thing Arundel thought Rhea had simply hidden the crest stone somewhere else for the same reasns that you don’t keep the keys to a safe on top of them) and that once they did they would not have wanted for Byleth and Edelgard to cooperate.

They wanna kill Byleth due to their connection to Sothis just like the remaining Nabateans (whereas to Edelgard Byleth’s power is as good as anyone elses as long as they’re on her side, and she wholly intends to put TWSITD on its receiving end), and they want to keep Edelgard under control - given that she hates em and has her own agenda, that is only possible for as long as she needs them as much as they need her. If she’s their gun and Byleth’s their target she should be pointed at them, not protecting them. 

I mean come on who’d believe that it’s an actual coincidence that they went for remire of all places, or that “Thomas” “there must be a mastermind” comments were actually supposed to be helpful. 

Especially since Solon has been explicitly shown do be doing some machinations to the effect or turning their potential enemies against each other in the Verdant wind routes (sneaking Claude information since he showed interest in opposing the Church) - Markedly once Claude, who has zero background here, finds out that Solon is Thomas he puts his plans on hold until he knows why they want him to fight the Church.

“Thomas” dialogue is the same in BL as in the BE version of part one because as Cornelia and Thales themselves point out, having Edelgard and Dimitri fight is quite convenient for them, gets rid of both of them and leaves a nice power vacuum for them to swoop in (what actually happens is that Claude swoops in first but they’re not really aware of him as a threat at this point he’s just a bratty half pint with a precarious position at this point)

More Precious Babies fighting

Dorothea: Oh, Ferdie. You opposed Edie for so long... I had real hopes for you, you know? Now you're following her. Is that your duty as a noble? Follow your master when they say to heel? Ferdinand: I will not try to explain my duty or hers. You would not understand. I wish you could. Anyway, no time for idle chitchat!

This one’s really sad, they misunderstood each other early on and since they spent those last 5 years on opposite sides they never get to rectify that. 

Shamir: I cannot bring myself to kill you... You're a princess of Brigid. A hostage of the Empire. Petra: That was the truth in the past, but it is a different truth now, Shamir... I am...the will of the emperor! Shamir: In that case, I won't hold back.

Nice touch to have those two have an unique dialogue. Shamir hardly ever gets behind any cause so she’d sympathize with someone she thinks is forced to be there. 

That Petra had become a true believer at some point is apparent from the fact that she shows up in Enbarr when Edelgard’s already losing and there’s not that much to be gained from siding with her (after Edelgard explicitly told her to get out and return to lead Bridgid at Gronder) 

It’s sorta like how Felix shows up in Arianrhod next to his father if you don’t recruit him. 

Hubert: So, Princess of Brigid. Now we see where your loyalties truly lie. This, after we spared your life in return for naught but your fealty. How ungrateful. Petra: Ten years have been passed. The Empire has been changed, just as Brigid has!

Not cool Hubie, it’s not exactly mercy if she’s super young and it’s a war in which her parents got killed, even if it was the Dagdan leadership who started it, whether she wants to stay part of the empire or not is rly her decision. 

That said he just isn’t too compromising when it comes to his enemies especially when it comes to real or perceived treason. It’s probably because they were sorta friends once that he’s so trenchant. 

Ironic too given that if not recruited she because they’re different from the past leadership that ‘napped her. 

Ingrid: Sylvain. This isn't funny. What are you doing? Sylvain: I'm sorry, Ingrid. I believe in what the professor is trying to do more than I do in my own country. Ingrid: Perhaps my blade will cut away the scales from your eyes!

Look at Sylvain the old cynic actually saying he believes in something. Though I suppose when it comes down to he does consistently try doing the right thing even if he doesn’t expect much out of it. 

Also its highly ironic how most of these conversations have 2 versions depending on whom you recruited like it could soooo easily have been the other way around, because butterfly effect. 

Tailtean Plains

Rhea: An ancestor of the Hresvelgs, who became Adrestia's first emperor... He saved me. Supported me. Gave his all to the cause of defeating Nemesis. That I should find myself here at Tailtean, striking down his scion... Edelgard: I don't advise presumptions, Rhea. I will not die by your hand.

This one’s really interesting because its the one time Rhea expresses something other than complete crushkilldestroy vindictiveness and also gives some characterization to Wilhelm of Adrestia. 

Like without this you could easily get the impression that he just sold out humanity for power especially if he was a former ally of Nemesis, maybe he was passed over when the dragon bones were handed out and Seiros came and offered him some superpowers in exchange for his service. That’s surely what Edelgard believes she wants to but right what he done fucked. 

But Rhea has absolutely no reason to lie here - This here makes it sound like Wilhelm was a True Believer. Like Catherine or Cyril, or Jeralt in the past. Like he followed Rhea because he actually liked her... or perhaps he was just truly against Nemesis and turned against him for moral reasons. Perhaps he wasn’t down with razing Zanado and protected Seiros because he felt responsible. 

That sounds not only like he was good or at least ambiguous, but like he must’ve been really something, because here’s Seiros saying she actually liked a human - So much she remembers him years later, though she met him when the wound from the “humans killed my family” thing were still fresh. It’s wholly possible of course that one of them was using the other, or both. It’s almost making me consider if maybe the legends about him and Seiros having descendants together aren’t wholly fake. 

This also makes me realize a recurring motif with Rhea/Seiros. Both Jeralt and Catherine are said to have protected her (as reckless young warriors) and got healed after that. In her supports Rhea mentions it as a big reason for why she is or was fond of Jeralt at some point.  

I mean it’s still her same old selfish, emotionally shallow thinking, she only cares because they saved her, she cares only about wether you’re for her or against her and most of the humans she remotely trusts were modified by her at some point (see also how she makes the church staff drink her blood) but if you’re not against but for her, there’s an actual degree of  (albeit shalllow) actual care/dedication to be had. At least she’s not ungrateful for or dismissive of good things done to her. 

I mean some part of her is stuck as a little girl who wants her mommy. She’s very afraid, indeed she wants to control humans because she’s scared of their treason which took away her family. Of course she likes to be protected/ longs for protection, you get quite a bunch of support points by acting protective IIRC

Miscellaneous Claude Banter

Claude: We haven't seen each other since Garreg Mach. You've grown lovelier than ever, Edelgard. Edelgard: You're not so unfortunate yourself. And you have the aid of the professor. Frankly, I'm jealous. Now's the chance for you and the professor to leave. Claude: I'm afraid I must decline. Even if we left, we'd just have to come right back.

You know these two have pretty great banter/ are able to have some because they both keep their head against the mayhem, for all that the differing amount of edge still makes for a serious clash here and there. Dimitri got stilted politeness, crushkilldestroy, and no in-between. He either hates his enemies enough to be dead serious, or doesn’t hate them enough to say mean things to them. 

kudos to El for giving them the chance to run tho. 

Claude: Hey... Can you speak? Riegan: ... Claude: Just puppets controlled by Nemesis... Well, they're the strongest puppets I've ever known.

I wondered what would happen if you made one of them engage their own ancestor. 

Claude: Here she is—Her Majesty—looking pleased as a dog with a stick. What exactly happened to make you this way? Edelgard: I'm simply seeing through a promise I made to myself a long time ago. Claude: Isn't this much force excessive? Thanks to you, my own long-held ambitions are nearly destroyed. Edelgard: If you don't want them to be destroyed completely, I suggest you turn tail and flee.

I wish I had the voice clip because the degree of actual personal dislike toward Team Empire that is or isn’t implied here would depend on how he says it.

Claude grew a lot less gremlin-like over the timeskip. Or I was surprised by how much on one he was in his route after not getting to see that much pf him in the other routes apart from how heroic and badass he is afterward.  

Also doesnt this kinda foreshadow how things go post timeskip in her route? Though he markedly doesnt bail in his own. 

also lots of people have probably called Claude a coward in Fodlan without knowing why hed actually be touchy about that and it breaks my heart a lil bit

Flayn: Edelgard! Please! Release Rhea... Release Fódlan! Edelgard: If you strike me down, they will return. I cannot permit what you desire. You are a child of the goddess. You must not be allowed power over the people!

Im glad I found this one in context since it’s often cited to claim that Edelgard’s a facist or something. It doesn’t actually pop when you fight Flayn in CF but in the Church route when you’re about to finish Edelgard in her own house. (the dialogue with Seteth is the same except there’s no ‘please’.)  ″I want this specific small family group, as far as I know have terribly mismanaged the land, to be out of politics” =/= “must exterminate them all just because they’re different” She’s perfectly fine with letting them all go if they surrender/ flee. 

“I cannot permit what you desire” sure doesn’t sound like she’s gleeful about killing them. Though of course the truth is that Flayn and Seteth don’t desire anything other than peace and quiet. 

From her POV it’s like holding animosity against the trumps, if they aint complaining about the shit their father/husband does how good can they be? 

It’s tragic that she doesn’t know Flayn and Seteth are innocent, they know they’re innocent but not what they’re innocent of (Can’t say they had nothing to do with Rheas bullshit if they do not know she did bullshit, and without that knowledge its the most natural thing in the world to oppose someone who wants to fight your sister/aunt especially if all your other relatives were brutally murdered)

One interesting bit of info here is that she knows they’re Nabateans, though she repeatedly mentions that she knows there are others (”the imaculate one and her family”)

It’s weird to think that she knew all along while she and Flayn were briefly in one class together. 

But onto the quote itself as it actually is. 

Kudos to Flayn for trying to talk to her/ showing that she actually means her pacifism talk tho. 

I’m a bit thrown off by the “they” tho. Context would suggest that she’s talking about Rhea’s return and the continued dominance of her and her associates.  Is this a wonky translation? 

Could it possibly the liberation army? She and Hubert sure know that TWSITD are “planning something terrible” and taking them out sorta unleashes the storm that they’d been holding back, but then again Edelgard doesn’t know that Nemesis and the Elites were evil indeed her impression was that nemesis was good, so it makes no sense for her to mean them. 

Hubert’s last stand

Everyone’s seen the “I shoulve killed you when I had the chance!” exchange that you get if you fight him with Byleth (still kinda my favorite cause he must really regret it), but apparently everyone’s favorite dark mage has an unique dialogue if engaged with

Alliance route: 

Claude: It's over, lapdog. Your military rule is at its end. Hubert: For every step you take along that path, our thorns will cut into your heels. Claude: Ooh, that sounds painful. I'll have to wear thicker soles for the march. Hubert: If your boots are too heavy, you won't be able to lift your feet. But enough prattle.

Vintage. Claude’s irreverrent as ever, Hubert has one of his goth moments. Ironic how Claude seems to despise him a fair bit given how his opinion of Hubert is about to 180 once he gets the letter. Then again Claude’s in public here.  

Kingdom route: 

Dimitri: Hubert. I would tell you to get out of my way, but I highly doubt you would abide. Hubert: Heh. Your silver tongue will do you no good here. This is not your path to tread. Dimitri: That is not your decision to make, nor is it mine. All I can do is blaze ahead!

Ah! They interacted!  Don’t think they really do anywhere else but it seems a given that they would hate each other given that each is sorta exactly the kind of person that the other tends to dislike.

I suppose there’s  also the introductory line for this battle where he’s like “Ah here comes the so called savior king with his hands stained red” He clearly sees Dimitri as a hypocrite (”So because you don’t like us stopping the church by fighting them, you will stop us... by fighting us?”)  but at the same time this implies that he seems to have the same misunderstanding that Felix had pre timeskip, that since he got that grizzled vindictive side to him, Dimitri’s only pretending to be civilized and noble (hence “silver tongue” and the general mocking tone), and its not really like that/ more like 2 sides of the same coin, Dedue probably explained it best. Though I doubt that he’d have much respect for Dimitri either way, they just very different peeps. 

My headcanon is that Dimitri hated him at first glance, but, being Dimitri, still felt compelled to greet him in a polite and friendly manner, at some point he mentioned that he “knew Edelgard while she was staying in the kingdom” that Hubert was like “staying there is an interesting way to put it” and hated him ever since. 

There might also have been some lowkey jealousy going on, or, like in Byleth’s case, Hubert simply being aware that being attached to someone who might well become their enemy is just gonna be painful for edelgard in the long run, though, I mean, he was also the one who couldn’t be arsed to say “I’m sorry for your loss” after Jeralt died. I love Hubert but he’s not particularly nice or considerate. 

Church route: 

Hubert: Running into you in the capital like this—I have to say, it's almost sentimental. Ferdinand: Hubert. She must leave. Hubert: You really think you can make her? Ferdinand: It does not matter what I think. Those are my orders.

This ones sad and like... wow? Was Ferdinand basically offering to let them both escape if they flee? :dddd my feelings

Edelgard would of course never do that and Hubert knows. He doesn’t think he can make her. That last bit tho seems very un-ferdie like and ironic... or does he mean that it’s his order to Hubert? Like pulling rank because he’s a Duke and Hubert’s a count? 

Bonus: 

Apparently Flayn’s solo ending is slightly different if Seteth dies:

Flayn, Slumbering Princess Flayn disappeared soon after the war, and after a time, proof of her very existence faded from memory. Many years later, a young woman appeared at the monastery, which had been restored to its former glory. Speaking to no one in particular, it is said that she gazed at the entrance and reverently whispered, "I am home."

Sad :(

Makes me wonder if there’s any other unique content triggered by permadeaths,