"Dimitri, you need to start thinking of all the good things you've done."
Dedue's voice was at the forefront of his mind as he sipped upon chamomile tea, Cyril pottering around with a kettle before him. He remembered being in bed, mere months after the end of the war, crying yet again at the devastation. Too many funerals to attend for fallen lords and ladies - too many ceremonies held to commemorate the lives of the soldiers lost in mass graves. Dimitri knew a king should be strong, but nobody could be this strong.
Nobody could watch hundreds of loved ones cry: the devastated mothers, the confused children, the fathers trying to be strong. The wives drowning in grief, the husbands whose lives had lost meaning. Yet, whenever Dimitri had approached the mourning, they'd thanked him.
Why would they thank him? He'd caused this devastation. He was the reason for it - the reason why they were mourning, and why their loved ones were dead.
"No," Dedue had told him, stroking his face where tears had fallen. "You're the reason why everything ended. You're the reason they're still alive, and why they haven't joined their fallen ones. They're thanking you because you stopped this war."
His words had seemed hollow at the time. Dimitri had been so full of woe and terror and remorse. He'd felt so empty, and so guilty. So very, very guilty. People had died when he could have saved them. People mourned because he hadn't been fast enough, or powerful enough, or strong enough.
"You've done so much more for them than you realise." Dedue had almost whispered the words. "You give them reason to wake up in the morning, promising to rebuild what has been destroyed. You're the reason they still live freely - why Fódlan is no longer war-torn. Give yourself more credit, Dimitri. The past can not be redone, so do not dwell. The future is still ahead, and you can fill it with so many more good things."
Cyril's voice brought him back to the present, to where he sat across a small wooden table from the bright-eyed boy. "Whatcha thinking about, Your Highness?"
Dimitri thought a moment. Dedue was right; the only reason Cyril could be here now - why he'd been able to enroll as a student - was because peace had returned. The King did not like to take credit - felt far too self-centred - but Cyril's future had brightened since the war had ended. When he answered, he answered honestly. "About the good things."
The boy thought a moment, and then nodded. "There've been plenty of good things. Especially since you won."
With a slight surge of panic, Dimitri felt his cheeks begin to heat. He did not deal well with compliments, but the boy's words fortified the thoughts Dimitri had just been mulling over; yes, thanks to the end of the war, Cyril's life was better.
"Well, what are you thinking about, Cyril?" asked Dimitri with a smile.
"I was thinking about heavy armour, actually!"
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Because we were taught about it earlier in a special lecture. It was super interesting! I always thought I was a bit… small for heavy armour, but apparently anyone can use it!" And the boy began to drink from his own cup.
A special lecture. Heavy armour. Too many bells were ringing with his words. "Do you know who taught you?" Dimitri asked.
"Yeah, of course! Your best friend, from Duscur!"
Dedue. Dimitri felt himself smile. Dedue certainly was his best friend, but he was so much more. Of course, the world wasn't about to know that.
"I was thinking about it because he was looking for you earlier."
"He what?" Concern momentarily clouded the King's good spirits.
"Yeah, before I heard you running. I was just cleaning up the dining hall when he came to find me, and said he was looking for you."
And you're only just telling me this now? the King wanted to ask. Instead, he sipped upon more chamomile tea, feeling small dregs of the natural, earthy flavour hit his tongue, calming him. He was just looking for me. That's all.
Dimitri had become far more quick to panic over the past few months. He'd already lost so much - so many of those dear to him - that he tended to worry even at the slightest provocation. Alas, Dedue had merely been looking for him - wondering where he was, and wanting to find him. As far as Cyril had mentioned, there had been no alarm, nor cause for concern, nor anything pressing that Dimitri's love had needed him for.
But, if Dedue had been looking for him, it could only be for one reason. Because he'd been warned of Dimitri's breakdown, and was worrying about him in turn.
So much worry.
"I should find him." Dimitri tried to sound composed as he scalded his tongue on his tea. "He may have wanted me for something."
Cyril gave a boyish snigger. "Being a king must be so busy! I don't think I could ever do your job."
I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy, thought Dimitri in turn. "I don't think I could do yours either, Cyril!" He gave a warm smile. "You practically run Garreg Mach yourself, and you're a student!"
"Aw, jeez, Your Highness, you don't have to be so nice."
"Call me Dimitri, I insist."
"Oh, yeah, Dimitri. Sure. Well, your friend was in the dining hall, last I saw of him. Want me to help you find him?"
Dimitri stood, sucking down the rest of the tea, and placed his cup back on its saucer. "I'll be fine, thank you. I'm sure it will be about some boring kingly matters."
"Ah, yeah. I think my brain'd explode if I tried to get involved."
The King laughed and headed for the door of Cyril's dorm. "Thank you for the tea, Cyril. And for helping me."
"That's no problem," he replied as Dimitri began to step out into the chill of the night again. "Oh, Your- Dimitri!"
He turned. "Yes?"
Cyril rushed over to him, holding something out in his hand. "You left this."
And the King was returned his eyepatch - the flimsy black material looking so small and insignificant in his palm. "Thank you."
"Have a nice night."
Dimitri smiled at the boy, having a shy smirk directed back at him. "You too."
He heard the door shut behind him, and set off walking through the monastery, crumpling the eye patch and shoving it into his pocket. It was frightening how similar everything looked to Dimitri's academy days. What was perhaps more frightening was how it could send Dimitri back in time - make him feel no more than a schoolchild, as though no time had passed and no war had been waged.
The King knew he wouldn't find Dedue by the dining hall. He walked through the empty grounds, hearing the mewls of cats hidden in the shadows as his boots rang upon the ground beneath him. Dedue would be just where Dimitri expected.
Reaching the stone stairs that led down into the marketplace, the King saw a broad figure standing alone upon the top step, silhouetted against the festival's torchlight. As soon as he laid eyes upon the scene, it was as though Dedue sensed his presence, turning and heading towards his King.
"Dimitri, your eye-" his deep voice called out as light illuminated his face.
"I don't care about my eye right now, Dedue," Dimitri responded, continuing to walk towards him. "I'm just glad I've found you."
"And I you."
"You would not believe the night I've had."
"I think I would. Ingrid told me what happened."
"Of course," said the King as they reached each other. They kept walking until they collided, falling into each other's arms and holding on tight, hoping never to let go.
"I'm glad you're better," Dedue whispered into the King's ear, low tones drawing quivers to Dimitri's skin.
"How can you tell?" he whispered back.
"There is life in your eyes. And, I can see both of them."
Dimitri smiled, and the two pulled apart. Dedue knew how self-conscious Dimitri was about his scars, and about the semi-blindness that accompanied freeing his right eye. It was unheard of for the King to be seen in public without covering it up. But, Dimitri truly did not care. He was back with his love, with something bright and light fluttering within his chest, and for seemingly the first time in his life, the King felt…
Normal.
"Would you like to tell everybody, Dedue?" Dimitri asked his love, knowing that no elaboration was needed. "I'm exhausted of keeping us a secret."
The man simply looked at him, passion dancing in his viridescent eyes.
"I love you. And I want to share that love. I want to rule with you."
A soft breath of a laugh left Dedue's nostrils. "You know I've never been the ruling type."
"I know," Dimitri gave a bashful smile. "But, I feel I would do a better job with you by my side, my Duscan Prince."
"Stop," Dedue chuckled and rolled his eyes, giving Dimitri a gentle shove. "I will always be by your side, whether we are officially united or not."
The King knew he meant well. Dedue was more shy - even a little more nervous - of their relationship becoming public. Dimitri knew it came with being from Duscur - from his childhood of being shamed for his identity. He knew that Dedue felt unworthy of the King's love; he feared being rejected by Fódlan. But that was an irrational fright.
"Of course I want to be with you, Dimitri," he said, turning and looking out of the open doors into the celebration beyond. "But, let the world heal a bit first."