"You can't seriously be considering this. He's only got one eye! Letting him fight will get him killed."
"You'd rather him sit around in his state? I haven't seen any expression on his face aside from contempt since he returned."
"He's not in the right state of mind to decide—we need to keep him here, where he's safe."
"Safe? That's idiotic. I know you love the man, but nowhere we go is safe. This is war. He understands that."
"All he understands is Edelgard's head on a platter. Nothing else. Are you letting him do this and hoping he gets killed?"
"Do you really think that little of me? The man's my friend."
"First Rodrigue, maybe now's Dimitri. It'd be convenient if the only real leaders of our country vanished, right?"
"I don't want to kill him. I didn't want Rodrigue dead either. I had nothing to do with that. I know you don't mean this."
"Then prove it to me, take him out of the fight. Don't let him be another Glenn."
"You'd have a better chance of convincing him than I would. There's only so much I can do for people when they don't want help."
"You don't think he wants to get better?"
"No, I don't."
Sylvain's single condition on letting him fight was to not use Areadbhar.
He buried the borrowed lance into the nearest soldier, pushing so far that his clenched hand was doused in blood. His feral growl was the last thing the man heard before expiring.
The Kingdom soldiers gave him a wide berth as they entered into Galatea proper. Ingrid had gotten him placed further back in the army with Dedue, but he'd cut his way up to the front, leaving his friend behind. Some higher ups had tried to send him away, but a single look from him sent them packing.
Between the eye patch, the shaggy hair, the beginnings of a beard, none recognized him. He wore no colors of his house, just his black armor with a wolf pelt cloak.
That suited him just fine.
The rest of the army surged forward through the gates, but he looked at the specters that followed him. Today it was Glenn, lingering on the edge of his vision. Even when he fought, they were there. Battle was the only thing that kept them at bay, providing enough distraction to make him forget for bloody blissful moments that this was his fate.
It didn't stop him. Nothing would stop him, not until Edelgard was dead at his feet. Once she was dead, he'd take his own life and go to the Eternal Flames where he belonged.
"Only after taking that bitch with me," he growled, drawing glances from passing soldiers. At first, they'd cheered at his martial prowess. That cheer grew to fear as they saw him tear through human after human with zero remorse.
Obstacles. Empire dogs. The more he killed, the better.
A hand rested on his shoulder from one of the few people brave enough to approach him. He'd must have lagged behind, because Ashe had caught up. He hadn't been with the advance force.
"Glad you're still kicking," Ashe said, looking him up and down and taking note of the sheer volume of blood on him.
The bloodlust relented, and Glenn walked back into his vision. He saw Lambert and his uncle, Rufus, too. They stood wordless today.
"I'm busy," he growled, shrugging the hand off.
Ashe frowned. "You left your position in the formation."
"So I did," he stated, unperturbed. Dimitri looked to the army surging further into the city, lusting at the thought of being at the front. He should go. No, he needed to go. Glenn was getting closer. Dimitri could see his eyes, those sad eyes.
"Dimitri," Ashe murmured. "You know that you're not the only one who has lost a parent, right?"
Dimitri ignored Ashe, walking away towards where the fighting was thickest. Rufus bowed his head as Dimitri passed him.
He heard Ashe sigh as he left.
When Dimitri was ten years old, Glenn took him on a trip.
Up until that point, he'd not ventured too far off the beaten path. Lambert had taken him to the grand cities of Fódlan and he'd seen a great deal of what Faerghus had to offer.
But on a stint in Enbarr, Glenn asked him if he'd like to see something special. Dimitri was hardly there on business, being so young. He was all too willing when Glenn suggested it.
Glenn took them on his steed to the Morgaine Ravine. He was an accomplished wyvern rider, an artist in the skies. Many praised him for being the best Faerghus' aerial forces had. In time, when Dimitri grew older, he'd realize that while Glenn was gifted, he had nothing on Almyran riders. But that was neither here nor there in this moment.
When they arrived, night had long since fallen. Dimitri struggled to keep his eyes open, but Glenn assured him that this was the best time to see it.
He'd asked what 'it' was, but Glenn insisted it be a surprise.
On wyvernback, they descended into the Ravine. Dimitri's tutors had taught him the Ravine was borne of a massive inland spring eroding the nearby terrain. He didn't really understand what that meant.
Their wyvern touched down and Glenn helped him off. "We're here."
Dimitri blinked out of onsetting sleep. "Can you tell me now?"
Glenn grinned, untying his hair and letting it down. "Better to show you, little lord." He gestured for Dimitri to follow him.
He did so, walking at Glenn's side through vegetation. The warmer climate of Adrestia allowed for much more vibrant plants to take hold. People in Adrestia touted this as a reason to love the country. At first he'd been enamored, but that had soured upon learning there was little to no snow.
"No snow?" he said, aghast.
"Just rain," Sylvain had explained.
That was just odd.
"Alright, little lord, take a look," Glenn said, proud.
Dimitri's eyes widened.
In front of him, at the bottom of the Ravine, was a lake. Its crystal blue water reflected the moon's warm gaze like a pearl in the sky. Faint wisps of clouds smattered the sky, letting the astral black of night have its reign. But that wasn't the reason he was shocked.
Underneath the water, the plants glowed. Long rocks like spiderwebs—coral, he'd learn later—were beacons of soft light. Their luminescence, partnered with the moon, were thousands of glowing stars in the lake-sky. All twinkling, all filled with life.
"By the Goddess," he squeaked, saying words that would have gotten him a telling off had anyone but Glenn heard.
Glenn knelt next to him, pointing further out. "The lake's salt water, like the ocean. Weird, huh? There's some critters that you only see in the sea, but you can see them here. You see those?"
"Where?" Dimitri demanded, trying to follow Glenn's finger.
"Watch the lights," Glenn coached. "Look for movement."
Dimitri did, and a minute later he was rewarded. What he'd taken for light lapping of waves were actually creatures. Dome-like fish undulating as they glowed florescent green.
"Jellyfish," Glenn explained when Dimitri asked. "Can't find them anywhere inland, except here. Locals call this place the 'Sea of Stars'. A bit of a small sea, if you ask me."
Dimitri could see why. The ecosystem's harmony was an entire living constellation; drips of starlight on fire as everything existed in concert. "Wow," was all he could say.
Glenn sat down and patted the ground beside him. Dimitri joined him, watching the greens, purples, oranges, and every other color he could imagine. So many more than he didn't have names for.
"You like it?" Glenn asked, grinning.
"Yeah," he mumbled, incapable of more concrete thought in the presence of such wonder.
"World's a big place," Glenn said. "Never forget that. If you look for it, beauty's there."
Dimitri nodded, thinking he understood.
Dedue watched him impassively as Dimitri buried the head of the lance into the commanding general's throat.
That had been five minutes ago and Dedue had said nothing since, merely standing at his side as he cooled down within the Galatea throne room. The high from conflict lingered as Ashe arrived. The man had taken one look at the general's body before glancing at Dedue. The man nodded.
Ashe grimaced and went about issuing orders, leaving Dimitri alone.
"Your Highness," Dedue finally spoke.
Dimitri said nothing, but turned his head slightly.
"Please do not leave my side on the battlefield like that again," he said.
"Keep up next time," Dimitri growled.
Dedue's lips tightened and he said nothing more.
Glenn had begun to linger in his vision as Sylvain arrived. He saw Dimitri sitting to the side and detoured to him.
"I heard you left your position," Sylvain said. He didn't look pleased.
Inwardly, Dimitri scoffed. What did it matter? "Your point?"
"I thought battle might do you some good," Sylvain said, frowning. "Give you something to focus on. But I won't let you be a danger to others out there."
This time Dimitri scoffed aloud. "I only killed the insurgents."
Sylvain crossed his arms. "And the group you broke position on was overrun in the confusion that followed your departure. You left an opening and our people tried to go after you, thinking they needed to charge. There's twenty dead because of that stunt." There was well reined anger in his voice.
Far away in his mind, that hurt. "They shouldn't have gone after me, then," Dimitri said. "I was fine."
Sylvain shook his head. "Guess I was right. You really are too far gone."
"His Highness is still himself," Dedue argued, but even his voice was uncertain. As soon as he spoke, he visibly doubted it.
"You won't fight again in my army," Sylvain said. "Not while you're like this."
Dimitri was on his feet a second later. "You'd deprive me of my vengeance? Their lives are my right to take. Their deaths are my calling."
Sylvain didn't back down, but pain flickered across his face. "You show me you can exhibit even a bit of empathy and I'll reconsider."
"I am your king," he hissed, angrily. "It is my right."
Gritting his teeth, Sylvain spat, "Then act like it. If you want to destroy yourself, fine. I can't stop you. But endangering and getting others killed? That I will not abide."
He turned heel and walked away towards Ashe. Dimitri seethed, hands shaking. No one would get in his way. He'd kill everyone—every last one of them—that tried to interfere. His lance—no, he—couldn't be stopped if presented with the opportunity.
And that opportunity was slipping away as Sylvain walked away.
Dedue cleared his throat. "Dimitri."
No, wait, that wasn't Dedue. Dimitri closed his eyes, trying to blot Glenn's voice out of his mind. No no nonononono—
"Dimitri," Glenn repeated, his ethereal self standing in front of Dimitri.
"Get out," he growled, trembling.
Glenn's eyes softened, if possible, further. "Dimitri," he repeated, far kinder than he deserved.
Dimitri shuddered, shaking. He fell to his knees and Dedue cried out with alarm—and it was him this time.
Glenn knelt in front of him. "Dimitri," he whispered. "Dimitri."
"Stop saying my name!" he screamed, clutching the sides of his head. His hands pulled at his hair, letting the lance clatter to the ground.
Other voices, muffled, began to speak. Dedue, Sylvain, and Ashe. But they were blotted out as Rufus said, "Dimitri."
NO.
Dimitri leapt to his feet and began to run out of the throne room. He could out run them, yes, he had to. He wouldn't take their words, their pity, their anger, whatever hatred they had for him letting them die. He'd have none of it.
"Dimitri," whispered his father's voice in his ear.
He made it outside of the castle before collapsing to the ground as fresh snow began to fall. The cold barely registered, he seldom felt warmth as it was. Dimitri tried to get up.
Standing before him, arrayed as always, they stood in their silent judgement. He could see it without even looking at them. His father, disappointed. His uncle, mocking. Glenn, angry. Why should he live while they die?
He had to fight, had to act. Staying sedentary would only keep the voices close. Dimitri crawled out of the snow, ignoring the faces of those he loved. He had to leave.
He needed to leave.
A gasping breath, a haggard laugh. Yes, that was it. Of course. If Sylvain wouldn't cooperate, then he'd go out on his own. Killing Edelgard and Cornelia was something he was well equipped to accomplish himself.
Dimitri's toothy grin was seen by none, but had anyone been looking, they'd have doubted the former king's sanity.
And they might be right to.
"Search parties turned up nothing. Wherever he went, he's gone now."
"Fuck. Fuck!"
"Dedue went after him immediately after he left the throne room. He'll have caught up for certain."
"And Ingrid?"
"Still searching. I worry she'll try to go out on her own to look for him."
"I wouldn't blame her. We'd given him up for dead, but she was the one who believed he lived."
"Do you think she'll come back?"
"I don't know. But pull the search parties back. If we keep searching, people will start to ask why we're looking so hard."
"Do you think he'll come back?"
"He took his lance from where he'd left it. Be it Cornelia or Edelgard, he'll be hunting one of them."
"That's suicide."
"I know. Ingrid knows. Dedue knows. We all do. But if he wants to destroy himself, then we can't exactly stop him."
"You didn't give up on me after my father passed."
"You wanted help. It might not have felt like it, but you wanted to get better. He doesn't."
"How can you tell?"
"Because he doesn't care that what he says hurts me, or anyone else. If you judge him to still be redeemable, I won't blame you. This is the choice I have made for myself."
"It feels cruel."
"It is. And I don't take pride in it."
"So why do it?"
"There's a lot of people depending on me, Ashe. I can't place one person above them. I can't place my own wants above either."
"I understand. I won't give up on him, though."
"Good, that makes you a better man than me."
Author Notes: Gosh, what a happy fic! Last chapter was the dangers of codependency, this one it's explosive self-destruction! Doesn't May just know so much about unhealthy relationships!
The first scene is Sylvain speaking to Ingrid. The final is Sylvain and Ashe.
Vargavinter is an expression a friend of mine from Sweden taught me. It literally translates to 'wolf winter' and is used to describe a horrendously fierce winter. It's the word that I ruminate on to describe Dimitri's headspace. A bit abstract, but I think it does the job.
Editing Notes:
7/27/2021: Minor grammar adjustments.
2/12/2022: Minor grammar adjustments.