This story was prompted by a suggestion from boogies11 that I write a Lambert/Dimitri story.

Obviously, since Lambert is alive, this story takes place pregame, and Dimitri is about 13/14.

As far as the theme of the story goes, Faerghus seems like the kind of place where traditions and rituals around ancestors would be important, and I thought it would be interesting to give some suggestion as to where Dimitri's later obsession may have stemmed from.

Thanks for the idea! I hope you like the story!

A sickening crack resounded through the cavernous stone chamber, and Dimitri watched with horror as the broken spear head flew through the air and skidded across the floor.

Father is going to kill me…

Some days, he hated his crest. He had not meant to swing the spear so hard, but the extra strength his crest granted him bashed the weapon against the stone pillar with enough force to snap the end clean off. Of course, this was not the first time his crest had caused him to break a weapon, but this time was different. This time he was not even supposed to be here, let alone playing with the weapons. The mausoleum was off limits to nearly everyone, and Dimitri had only seen its interior on a handful of occasions during certain ceremonies.

Immediately his mind started scrambling for what to do. Maybe if he just set the spear back in its rack and balanced the end on top, no one would notice. The ceremonial weapons were hardly ever used anyway, and by the time they were taken out again, there would be no way to prove who had broken it…

He shook his head: there was no way that would work. Maybe he should just hide the spear away somewhere, but then the empty slot would be even more conspicuous…

Suddenly, a sound from the hall stopped his racing thoughts and froze him in place: footsteps on the stone floor. An image of the heavy wooden door propped partially open paraded through his mind, and he thought with a sinking feeling that he would rather be locked in here forever than have to face whoever those footsteps belonged to.

He listened with growing dread as the steps drew closer, then stopped right outside the door. The heavy door groaned as it was pushed open further, followed by a terribly familiar voice, "Hello? Is someone down here?"

Father…

His time was up. No more pondering on what to do, Dimitri acted on the first impulse that overtook him. Clutching the broken spear to his chest, he darted behind a stone casket carved with the likeness of one of his ancestors. Perhaps not the best escape plan, but in that moment the cold arms of the dead seemed more welcoming than the stern frown he could well imagine on his father's face.

He held his breath, trying not to make a sound as he listened to his father descend the stairs. He heard slow steps click against the cold stone and resound in the cavernous chamber; his father was making his way into the mausoleum.

Dimitri's lungs were burning, but he dared not let his breath out for fear the sound would echo against the unforgiving stone walls. He noticed that his father's footfalls had stopped, leaving the chamber in deathly silence that would be all too easy to break.

"I know you're in here; you might as well come out now."

The suddenness of his father's voice in the oppressive stillness startled Dimitri, and two things happened at once. His aching lungs, finally at their capacity, sucked in a mouthful of air in the form of a sharp gasp. At the same time, the spear shaft slipped from his sweaty hands and clattered to the ground.

Dimitri barely had time to process what had just happened before a sharp pain shot through his ear, which was caught by a strong hand that pulled him firmly from his hiding place. A moment later his ear was released, and he found himself staring up into his father's stern gaze.

King Lambert was an intimidating figure on a good day, with his broad shoulders and towering stature, but this effect was usually tempered by an easy smile and a contagious laugh. Now, however, with his arms crossed over his chest and a disapproving frown hardening his features, he seemed to Dimitri a true lion of a man.

"Dimitri, show me what's in your hand."

Dimitri shrunk into himself at the command, clutching the broken spearhead closer into his chest.

"Right now, young man," Lambert held out his hand expectantly as he prompted the boy again, his voice ringing with a calm authority that let his listener know obedience was not optional.

Slowly, Dimitri uncurled his fists and held the spearhead out to his father. He could not bring himself to watch the older man's reaction, and kept his head tilted downward as he presented the evidence of his guilt.

Lambert took the offered weapon from Dimitri's hands and examined it for a moment before sighing deeply, "What happened?"

"I… I was just… just swinging it around a little…" Dimitri stuttered, feeling the weight of his father's disappointed frown even without looking up to see it, "I didn't mean to break it, I swear! I just… I hit it harder than I thought…"

"Dimitri, that's not the point, and you know it," Lambert scolded in a low voice, "Look at me."

Dimitri grimaced, but dragged his eyes up to meet his father's stern gaze.

"You know better than to come down here at all, and especially to play with these weapons as if they were some kind of toy. It is disrespectful to the dead whom this place was created to honor."

Unable to hold his father's gaze and feeling like he needed some kind of defense for the reprimand, Dimitri glanced off to the side and mumbled, "Well, it's not like they're using them anymore…"

Strong fingers gripped his chin and pulled his head up, and he once again locked eyes with his father, who had bent down to be on eye level with him.

"I can only hope that one day you will learn to give proper respect to the dead," his steely gaze pierced straight through Dimitri's wide eyes, "For now, it is enough that I told you not to come here, and you disobeyed me. I know you understand the wrong of that, young man."

Dimitri gulped "Y-Yes sir…"

"Good. Come here," dropping to one knee, Lambert pulled his son closer to him.

Dimitri's limbs reflexively stiffened, and he pulled back from his father's hold, "Wait, here?! Wh-what about respecting the dead?"

"I am respecting the dead by correcting your disrespect," Lambert replied evenly, taking hold of Dimitri's wrist and once again pulling him forward, "And I believe this is the most fitting place for that correction."

Unable to resist the iron grip on his wrist, Dimitri found himself firmly guided over his father's extended knee and bent until his hands rested on the cool stone floor. He instinctually tried to push himself back up, but the hand that had held his wrist so tightly now pressed against his back, and the warning in his father's voice as he spoke his name was enough to knock the resistance right out of him.

"Dimitri…"

Resigning himself to his fate, Dimitri let his head hang and squeezed his eyes shut. He shivered, feeling the cool, damp air of the mausoleum dance across the backs of his legs as his father pulled his trousers down to his knees. The next moment, a loud crack resounded through the vast chamber at the same time a sharp pain blossomed in the middle of his bottom, making him yelp. Several more hard smacks followed, quickly covering his backside in a deep, burning sting that filled his eyes with tears. Lambert was a very strong man, and while Dimitri knew he was not hitting him with anything near his full strength, the impact of just the first few swats was enough to make him thoroughly regret disobeying his father.

For a while, the only sound was the resonant smack of skin against skin filling the stony chamber, accompanied by little yelps and whimpers from Dimitri. When he noticed the boy begin to squirm and sniffle, Lambert once again addressed his son in a clear, firm tone without slowing the persistent pace of the spanking.

"Dimitri, I expect you to show respect to those who went before you," his hand smacked across the backs of Dimitri's legs as he spoke, increasing the urgency of the boy's cries, "Even if you cannot find it in yourself to truly reverence them, outright disrespect is completely unacceptable, and I will not stand for it. Is that clear, young man?"

"Yes sir!" Dimitri bawled, kicking his legs in a futile effort to lessen the sting his father's hand left in its wake.

"No matter what your feelings toward the dead, I expect you to have enough respect for me to give the proper honor to those whom I tell you deserve it. And Dimitri," the swats he landed across the underside of Dimitri's bottom had a bit more force behind them, "I certainly expect you to obey me when I tell you some places are off limits. Understood?"

"Y-Yes! Yes sir!"

"Good. Then I believe we are done here," Lambert's voice took on a softer tone, and he stopped spanking. His hand came to the back of Dimitri's head and rubbed slowly, "I had better not find you down here again, young man."

Dimitri shook his head vehemently, still sobbing, "N-No sir! Nev-Never again! 'M sorry!"

"Very good," Lambert soothed, running his hand down the boy's back, "Shh, it's alright, Dimitri; hush now."

Dimitri took a long, shaky inhale and sighed it out as he let his body go limp. His father's hand continued to rub a soothing pattern on his back, and his sobs faded into deep, cleansing breaths.

Seeing that his son had begun to recover, Lambert brought his hand under the boy's torso and gently guided him to stand while tugging his trousers back to their proper place, making him whimper as the fabric rubbed against his smarting backside.

Dimitri hung his head and glanced up at his father through teary eyes. The older man gazed back at him with a sad smile, then brought his hand behind his head and pulled him into a tight embrace. Collapsing against his father's broad chest, Dimitri sighed out one last, lingering sob as he felt strong arms envelop him. His muffled voice was barely discernible through the fabric of his father's shirt as he murmured, "Father… 'm sorry for disobeying you…"

"I know, Dimitri," Lambert reassured. He held the boy for a moment more, gently rubbing his back, before pulling him away to look at him again,.

"Alright, go fetch the rest of this," he picked up the spearhead from the floor beside him.

Dimitri scampered to obey, retrieving the broken shaft from behind the casket where he had dropped it. When he returned, he presented it to his father a bit sheepishly, though he no longer trembled before the larger man, even though he had once again stood to his full height. The punishment was over, and he was confidently restored to his father's good graces.

Taking the shaft of wood, Lambert brought his hand to the boy's shoulder and guided him towards the stairs, "We will take this to the blacksmith and see about getting it repaired. I think there are some chores you can do around the forge to help them out as well, yes?"

"Yes sir," Dimitri assented, not overly excited about the prospect of working in the hot forge, but willing to accept the atonement for his mistake.

As the heavy wooden door thudded shut behind them, he looked up at his father with a little smile. He may not feel much towards the dead whom he had never known, but if it was so important to his father, he resolved to honor them in whatever ways he could.