/Written for Dedue Week | Day 4 Prompt: Family/
In the morning mists, he rides to Molinaro Manor, his chaps scratched by the wirey vegetation he tramples in the gardens. Byleth will kill him when she sees the destruction he's causing but he cannot imagine a world in this situation where she'd care. Tugging the horse's reigns to a quick stop just at the steps, handing off the reigns to a servant as he does. He is breathless. "Where is she?"
"In the birthing chamber alongside with Lord Molinaro, your Majesty."
He nods, striding up the steps by threes.
Dimitri bursts through the hall doors. He need not say a word-low bows followed by pointed fingers take him just where he needs to go. When he finds the correct hallway-
Dedue looks up at him from the couch, his usually neatly tied hair curling out of its ponytail from anxious sweat. There's a moment where his presence does not register-but once it does, he immediately moves to stand, to bow. Dimitri runs to him, embracing the larger man with gentle hands as not to break him before he can lower himself
Dedue looks at Dimitri, eyes rimmed with red. The king's voice is breathless. "I came as soon as I could. How is she?"
"Still in labor," he chokes out in reply, fear squeezing his throat tightly. "They... they said soon. Within the hour, but... but..."
"And how are you?" Dedue pulls away, rubs an unsteady hand over his features.
His lips, knees and voice all quiver with the same energy, same uncertainty. Same fear. "Her mother was lost in childbirth, you know." Dimitri did not know, but he nods once slowly in reply. His own birth mother, too, was lost this way. Did his father look and feel as his old friend does now, a pained and panicked ghost of himself that could only anxiously wait for the result? And when he came into the world... how had his father reacted to the death of his mother?
Dimitri had never asked when he had the chance.
He grimaces. Yet another experience taken from him.
Dismissing the bitter thought, Dimitri concentrates on his friend, reaching out to firmly pat the back of his shoulder. Opening his mouth to offer comfort, his words are cut off, wincing when it comes-the loud, groaning sound of Byleth's pained moans on the other side of the door. At the sound, Dedue glares at the wooden surfacr and Dimitri has the sudden feeling that if he could, Dedue would break down the door itself if taking on Byleth's pain were possible. He hadn't realized just how much he would be able to hear, but he pushes down his own discomfort to concentrate on his friend. "It... it will be alright, Dedue. She will make it through."
"Yes, Your Majesty. She must." Dedue swallows hard, his gaze still directed towards the entrance where, on the other side, Byleth's body tries its hardest to bring new life into their still broken, still mending world. "Because I cannot imagine a world where she does not." He forces himself to tear his eyes away, forcing his lips.
Dimitri looks around himself in some confusion. "Is no one else here? Surely the others would've wanted to be present for this moment."
"You are. They do not know, I think, because I could not locate them to send messages." He smiles guiltily. "It's the timing. Because it's Golden Week. The anniversary of your-'
"Coronation, yes. Right. I never get the day off anyway, of course, so I do forget that it's a holiday at all." Dimitri clasps his hands together, rubbing them for a moment before rolling up his sleeves. "Well, then. It's up to me, it seems." Perplexed, Dedue lifts a single eyebrow. "Today, old friend, I am not your Majesty. I am Dimitri, your assistant. What can I assist with?" Dedue's tired eyes widen in wordless shock.
"I couldn't ask you to-it's hardly inappropriate, I couldn't-"
"You aren't asking, I'm offering. Perhaps I should make chamomile. Where do you keep the teacups? Same cupboard, I imagine?"
Dedue blinks. "You know how to prepare your own tea?"
Immediately, the blond man shoots him a look of offense. "Is it so difficult a skill that I could not manage it?"
"Handling the tea? No, I should think not. But handling the teacups..." Dimitri flushes. He is caught.
"Ah. Well. Yes, that... that took some time, yes. But after the last assassination attempt, I thought it a prudent skill to learn." They both fall silent at the grim truth.
"I knew that Fhirdiad would not take the Duscur trials well." Dedue says quietly, but Dimtri only crosses his arms.
"Justice doesn't have to be 'taken well'. In my own army, the military leaders who sent the order to invade and execute your people indiscriminately were still amongst the ranks, growing fatter by the year." His voice lowers with displeasure. "Was I to ignore them? Let them stand in glory while the bones and reputations of innocents lay trampled in the dirt?"
At once, without bidding, Dedue thinks of his younger sister's death, quickly pushing the little girl's whimpers out of his mind. "Please do not mistake me. I appreciate your work to the point to hold the trials. They are... instrumental, I think, for the rebinding of trust between our nations'. It's just that..." he trails off, then reaches out to touch the king's arm. "Dimitri." The sound of his name his attention as Dedue knew it would. It is rare that he utters the syllables, and Dimitri can count on a single hand how many times he has heard as much, but... Dedue continues slowly, his tone measured. "I care about you very much and you are working yourself to the bone for the kingdom. I understand, as I am doing the same for my own land... but... what about you? Your needs? Your... wants?"
Dimitri stares as Dedue uncomprehendingly before letting out a quiet breath. He opens his mouth to protest, but unsure of what to say, his lips press together. "Dedue, I..." He lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "Surely you can understand my position. I don't have much of a choice."
"But you do. You are choosing to be here supporting me and my family. Byleth and I are glad to consider you as our own blood. But I've seen the way you look at..." he lowers his voice and lifts his eyebrows. "That person, yet, you seemingly refuse to marry or even formally attach yourself together in a public space." Dedue pauses to fold his hands behind his back. "It may not be my place to ask, but... am I to truly believe that I am the only family you will ever want? When I have stood watch as you took orphans underwing while you yourself were still a boy?"
Dimitri opens his mouth then closes it. He cannot deny that Dedue is correct, but...
"The timing is wrong," he replies simply. But such a simple answer is an avoidance and they both know it.
"Have you ever considered when it be right?"
Dimitri's reply comes in a heated burst. "Oh, come now! As if I can divine the future! Since the coronation and the beginning of the trials, there have been six attempts on my life, Dedue. Six in less than two years." He grits his teeth. "How could I marry... how could I think of bringing children into a world where their lives or their parents' lives will be forfeit at any moment?"
"Is death what scares you them? Having a family, only for them to be taken away from you?" Dimitri is already shaking his head.
"No! I just..." His expression distorts painfully, gaze dropping to the fists he clenches in his lap. "I do not want to cause them the pain that losing my father caused me." Dedue is silent for a moment, the only sound of Byleth's anguished breaths of pain audibly heard through the birthing room door. They both wince before Dedue breaks that almost silence with a pointed question.
"Is that all you remember of your father? Pain?" Dedue lifts his hand slowly, lowering it to Dimitri's shoulder. He stiffens as he does so, wincing at the background noise of his wife in pain. Dimitri does not reply immediately, too ashamed to lift his eyes.
"It does not matter what I remember of my father. In the end... the problem is me. I've never been good with fragile things, you know." He stares down at his hands listlessly. "At this point, we both know that all I could do is cause my potential family pain."
"To be human is to hurt others and also be hurt by them." Dedue takes his seat with tired knees, gesturing towards the place beside him. "Even now, because of me, my wife is at risk of death." He smiles wryly, nervous sweat sliding down the side of his face. "When I strap on my armor, I always think, 'Today could be the day that I meet the dust and leave Byleth alone.' It helps me to fight harder. It... helps me to appreciate the fact that each day I return to her is a gift, not only to Byleth but to me. That said, it seems you are unaware of something important."
Dimitri clasps his hands together, sighing as he drags his eyes upwards to meet his friend's. "And what's that, Dedue?"
"Humans are not like swords and pottery. The human body may be less resilient, yes, but the human heart will not so easily be shattered." Dimitri does not reply, and in his silence, Dedue's voice is gentle. "I am by no means trying to pressure you, but... I don't want you to come so far into your own only to let fear win in the end." He places his hand on Dimitri's shoulder. "I worry that you do not know that those feelings of warmth and safety you treasured as a child... that is what others feel about you. If you granted your own wish, then... you would know for certain. The joy is worth any pain by far."
Dimitri's throat is tight as he forces the question out. "Is it, Dedue?"
There's a loud wail right then, the two men looking towards the door in unison before scrambling to their feet. The heavy door prevents them from hearing with clarity, but Dedue does not need clarity to decipher the sounds he is hearing. Byleth is crying out and he cannot help her. The midwives advised him that he should not enter when they discussed it beforehand, so he already knows that he shouldn't interfere with...
There is another inhuman howl in his wife's voice and Dedue takes more than one determined step towards the door, ready to break it down if needed. He suddenly does not care a hair for the advice of the midwives-but Dimitri's hand clasps onto his shoulder. Dedue turns on him, ready to protest, but he quickly spits out a phrase.
"The... the name!"
"What?" Dedue freezes, distracted.
"What will you name the child?" Firmly, Dimitri grasps both of his shoulders to stop him. He looks over his shoulder once but Dimitri gives him a little shake to keep him focused.
Names... Yes, what had they considered?
"We... we flipped a coin. If a girl, then Lovina, a name fitting a child of Duscur. And if not, then we would name the child after..." There is another wail, and Dedue swear he hears her call his name. His red rimmed eyes drag towards Dimitri. "I... I cannot bear this. I should be there at her side. I should be-" He turns to stone at the sound he has been waiting for..
There is another cry, an unfamiliar one. It is not that of his beloved, but rather... His heart stops. A baby's cry. Dedue steps towards the door again, but this time it opens before he reaches it, a midwife smiling tiredly at them from the entryway.
"How is she?" They ask the question in unison to her mild amusement, but she hides the reactionary smile with a low bow in acknowledgement of their stations. When she rises from the motion, her eyes are shining.
"Both the Archbishop and the child are fine." Dedue lets out a trembling breath, his knees weak for a moment. He stumbles forward, barely caught from hitting the ground by Dimitri's firm hands.
"Am I allowed to... can I..." His words fail him as he stands on the outside of the door, looking towards it longingly.
"The Archbishop is very weary. Rest is important but... she has asked for you." She pauses guiltily, but whatever thought is on her mind does not come to her lips. Indignantly, Dedue thinks that perhaps he really had heard her voice call his name. He will. Never let her go through this alone again, he thinks.
Dimitri slowly lets go, drawing Dedue's attention as the midwife merely steps aside. He grabs a cloth from the edge of the divan and gestures towards his own face. Taking the hint, Dedue takes a moment to clean it, taking a moment to wipe off the tears and anxious sweat, the mucus from his dripping nose. Dimitri's slender lips tilt upwards into a smile. "Go to her."
Taking tumbling steps forward, his knees quake as he approaches the birthing room. There is a strange sensation, something like fear that stops him from going through the door but he pushes that feeling down and turns the handle slowly.
In the room, the light of the tall window casts the bed and its inhabitant in shadow. Another midwife stands in the corner of the darkened room, and when she turns towards him, pressing blankets into his arms, it does not register at first, what he is holding. Not until he hears it, a quiet mewing sound that almost sounds inhuman.
He peers down into his cradled arms. The newbown is small enough to rest in the crook of just one. It is so... so tiny, this life that he holds.
"Hello," he whispers, his throat suddenly raw. The baby yawns.
"It's a girl." The midwife's voice almost startles him. He'd forgotten everything in the world besides the person in his arms, including the woman who'd handed him the child.
The... his... their... child is beautiful. And he cannot believe he is holding his own child, a thrill running through him at the sight of the pale silver blond hair plastered to her small head, light brown skin and the tiniest fingernails he has ever seen. He's almost in disbelief as he counts them. Ten fingers.
He peels the blankets away gingerly.
Ten toes.
We made this? His wife had pushed this small squirming creature into the world?
It hits him then, like a wave, the fear and worry. He doesn't know what to do or say or think. Can he be a good father? Will he love this child enough for her to know and feel it? He stumbles blindly to the bed where Byleth lies, her eyes shut lightly, the normal pallor of her cheeks red with exertion.
Dedue's throat is suddenly dry. He rasps his wife's name.
"By... Byleth." She meets his eyes and before he knows it, he is lowering himself to press his forehead lightly against hers, his own face wet with his own tears. He hadn't even been aware that he was crying again until that moment. "Are you... I'm sorry I... You..." he grasps for words but she only smiles vaguely, shutting her eyes again. Weakly, Byleth touches his cheek, words spent. He leans his face into her hand. "You are without peer," Dedue settles on, finally. "The finest person I have ever met and I am... I am proud of you." That she could bring life into the world... that on her own, her body could bear the pain he is uncertain he could... He kisses her hair.
Dedue has always recognized that, despite their difference in size, Byleth would always be stronger, mightier and more powerful than he is... but not for the first time, he finds himself in complete and utter awe of his wife. Her voice draws his attention.
"How is Lovina, then?" Dedue's heart swells at the Duscur name. It suits her.
"Perfect." He replies quickly. Easily. And then, with some hesitant incredulity: "She... looks like me."
Byleth opens her eyes again. "Can I?" Without another word, he lowers their tiny, yawning child into her mother's arms. His face feels warmer, more tears slipping down his wet cheeks. He watches her peel back the blankets, listens as the quiet mewing cries settle into a strange, not quite silence. "She does." Byleth looks up at him. "Look like you, Dedue." Exhausted, she leans back into the pillows, shutting her eyes. The midwife hovering close by clears her throat.
"Archbishop, you really ought to rest." Startled by the instructions, Dedue reaches for the baby, but Byleth shakes her head weakly.
"I will rest. I just need a few more moments." He nods, stroking the hair from Byleth's forehead to press a tender, quivering kiss to her head. "His Majesty is here." Her lips quirk upwards.
"He heard all of that then, did he?" Dedue nods. Her voice is dry. "I'm certain it was inspiring." Dedue does not mention their conversation. Instead, he smiles vaguely as Byleth gently arranges the blankets around the child again. "Mercedes will be so sad to have missed this," she whispers stroking the tiny hand of her daughter. She shuts her eyes again, letting out a breath.
"You should rest, Byleth. Lovina and I will be waiting when you awaken." Byleth does not protest this time when he reaches for their child.
He cradles her, watching her tiny lips purse in protest, he imagines, from being taken out of her mother's arms. "Yes," he agrees quietly. "I too await when I can return to your mother's side." The midwife directs him to the small cradle at Byleth's bedside. He places the child inside, then takes up his post in the corner of the room to watch over them.
The midwife thinks to speak, but the glare he directs towards her gives her pause. She is not cowed by glares, but she cannot imagine him leaving quietly, and... well. She could tolerate it since the Archbishop does need her rest... Surely being watched over by the former Captain of the Knights of Seiros would do it.
Sighing, she shakes her head. His Majesty too seems to have decided to take up his post outside of the room as well.
What a strange set of nobles, she thinks, setting off towards the laundry room. But then, the birthing room brought out all kinds of qualities from all kinds of people, and one thing she knows for certain is this...
A brave new world, parenthood is, she muses. A brave new world indeed.
I wonder who Dimitri's in love with? iUfufu~ /i
...Actually, I'll never say because I probably won't end up writing the story I was planning about it, so it'll just be vaguely non-descript background stuff so you can mentally insert whomever you'd like. It's not really important to my major Bydue canon so I guess I may as well say what I would've written...
Originally, I was going to stick him with Mercedes, mainly because I... like Mercedes and I want her to become a powerful queen after being thrown in the trash by the Bartel family BUT I also thought that Mercy is pretty content with her life, so while *I* in the outside universe want House Bartels to receive the comeuppance of a century, she'd be fine.
On top of that, there's the fact that apparently her brother Killed Them All, so there'd be no one to see her glorious rise to power. RIP. (And yeah, she could help Dimitri get through Some Issues per their A Support, but I admit that... I don't care about Dimitri enough to say I'd pair them for him, too.)
Anyway, I also thought it would be fun to write an enemies to lovers with Moonis (from my Retrograde fic) because just imagine! Starting with Moonis hating his guts, Dimitri trying to take everything as it comes, never getting angry and trying to make amends and failing as Moonis constantly tests him, then his own temper flaring because of his own traumas, Moonis seeing that dangerous vulnerability and seeing Dimitri as human instead of as a monster for the first time, but now he doesn't trust her and is ready to give up thinking that maybe she's right, maybe Fhirdiad and Duscur are too different but Moonis apologizing and extending the olive branch for the first time, them starting to get along and try to trust each other, having to be buddy buddy at a public event and they dance, and there's that moment of Frisson, but then one or both of them is almost killed and ahhh. yes. sorry, this is way long. Anyway!
Chef kiss.
I don't have the patient to write it, probably, but chef kiss!
...Anywho, thanks for waiting on these Dedue Week stories. I'm still determined to write all the prompts.
Last but not least, I have never given birth and I read a lot of blog entries about giving birth + the birthing process in Ye Olden Tymes, so I tried for accuracy. There's a lot of imagination in here, though, so if you've given birth... just squint through those bits LOL. Thanks for reading!