AN: Happy First of May and WELCOME BACK to another episode of, "Sad Children!"
Sorry for the delay, you see, this chapter is the first of what I call a "Weekend Chapter!"
Basically, a chapter that will be split into three parts, and each chapter will be posts one after the other. So today is part one, tomorrow will be part two, and the chapter climax will take place on Sunday!
If you guys like this, I can do it for future chapters with long arcs as well :D I'm actually planning a "Week Chapter" for the Academy Phase Finale, so again, if you like the format that's something you can be excited for.
That's one of the reasons it took all of April for me to post—I had to write all three chapter so I could post them one after the other without a hitch.
Anyway, Reviews!
Dragon lord Syed 101: Yes, I love teacher Jeritza/Emile as well! I'm hoping to have more of him in the future. And no, it is not good that the Sword of the Creator is gone...
Just a fan of fics: Thank you! And TWSITD didn't actually know The Sword was in there—as far as I know they were hoping for bones to make weapons with. And yes, once Dimitri finds out about El he will be...slightly more calm. That being said, he's a very damaged individual so critical thinking isn't always easy for him.
Random Fan: Low-key that happens every time I write reviews too lol! And yeah I see Jeritza, like Edelgard, to be mildly childish because their childhood was kinda squandered. But yes, he IS still a creep! Though no, Jeritza hasn't found a new obsession in Lysithea—but he is interested!
Matt Rogen: I understand the frustration of having characters you like pushed to the background! But to speak of your points:
First: In my defence, most people wanted Blue Lions to win during the Mock Battle and Byleth was Golden Deer so she kiiiiinda had to loose! I tried making it so it was clear Dimitri took her by surprise and not because he was a better fighter—she is still human after all and even the best of us make slip ups!
Second: The story is about Edelgard and Dimitri's relationship and how it could possibly effect the outcome of canon, Byleth and Claude aren't much in the story not because I dislike them or want Dimitri and Edelgard to look better, far from it! They simply have no bearings on Dimitri and Edelgard's relationship so they're kind of in the background. I know Byleth was important in the canon game, but that was because she was the main character. In this story, that isn't the case.
Third: In canon, Death Knight fights Byleth first and is thus fascinated with her strength. However in this story, Dimitri is the first to one-on-one duel and wound him, thus Jeritza's obsession stems from that—not because I'm dumbing down Byleth but because it fits the story. Which also ties into the sword getting stolen, I'm not trying to nerf her, I'm trying to show how Dimitri and Edelgard's interactions shape Fódlan.
That being said, if you REALLY feel strongly about Byleth having more prominence I can see what I can do—You can give me suggestions if you like! :D
The same goes for all my other readers, if you feel Byleth needs more word time, give me ways you think I can implement her better in the plot!
Anyway, without further ado...
Part I!
Chapter XIII: The Prince in Distress
Pt I
It had been almost too easy.
At midnight, Miklan and his group of bandits had taken The Gautier Estate completely by surprise, crashing through the front gates with powerful spells and axes and dropping the guards with arrows and swords.
And then, as they made it to the gardens, trampling bushes and murdering fleeing servants, out came dear old daddy.
"Father!" Miklan called gleefully from atop his steed, grin sharp and deadly as Jasper Gautier threw open the front doors with The Lance of Ruin in hand, armour strapped over what he was pretty sure were pyjamas (Ha!), and scowl on his face as the wind played with his scarlet hair. "How are things? You look like shit, as always!"
Some of Miklan's bandits laughed in response and Jasper narrowed his eyes. "I told you clearly before, Miklan. You were never to show your face here again."
"I don't know if you've heard, Father. But I don't answer to you stuffy in-bred Crest Bearing nobles anymore. I govern myself," Miklan swung off his horse and Jasper's guards sank into fighting positions. "Meaning, that I don't follow the rules of your backwards bullshit society; your words mean nothing to me."
"Then why have you returned?" Jasper challenged. "Why come back here?"
Miklan tilted his head towards the weapon in his father's hand and simply stated, "I want my weapon back."
Jasper scoffed. "Not a chance. The Lance of Ruin is a Gautier heirloom—you are no longer a Gautier and thus, have no right to this weapon."
Miklan threw his head back and laughed as he strode forward, unsheathing the lance strapped to his back. "Didn't you hear me, Father? Your rules don't apply to me! But since you're being so stubborn about it..." Miklan pointed his lance forward and the bandits charged.
As his soldiers roared and poured forwards, Miklan stepped back and watched the battle with a satisfied smirk on his face. While the Gautier Knights were better trained, Miklan had more bandits, and within moments he was winning.
That was until Jasper joined the fray.
With a roar, the Margrave slashed through men as if they were butter, painting the once immaculate garden in blood and sending limbs flying in every direction.
Miklan scowled deeply and barked, "Mages! Get out there!"
"But, Boss!" One of his mage bandits cried. "We might hit our own—!"
"Do it!"
And Miklan watched with a wide smile as the tables of the battlefield flipped again, a smile that became a grin as the Margrave Gautier tumbled to the ground with pained cry as he was shot with Miasma.
The Gautier Knights were mostly rendered useless thanks to the magic being thrown at them and now all that was left was Miklan, his bandits, and Jasper as he was pinned to the grass with dark magic and multiple hands clasped around his arms and legs.
"What will you do, Miklan?" Jasper spat, eyes filled with rage and disgust. "Kill me? Take the Gautier Estate?"
"Nah," Miklan shrugged, casually plucked The Lance of Ruin out of his slackened grip. "I want you to live and watch me become one of the greatest men to ever live, without a Crest, without the Margrave title, and without you."
"You bare no Crest," Jasper sneered. "You can never use that Hero's Relic to its full potential."
Miklan sneered at him chuckled, turning to the twitching blades of The Lance. "No? Say that to my face after I've proved to be ten times the man that you and your precious little shit Sylvain could ever be! Oh wait!"
Miklan pointed his weapon triumphantly in the air to the cheers of his still living bandits and grinned once more. "I already am!"
-o0o-
Dimitri had never seen a public execution before—certainly he had known they happened rather frequently in Faerghus, for his late father had zero tolerance for thieves, murderers, and rapists—but Lambert had never permitted Dimitri nor any of his childhood friends to see one, and Rufus was too busy using up the kingdom's wealth to worry about crime.
If his younger self had known how horrible it was, he would have never protested about being banned from watching.
The Executioner's axe glittered in the moon and torch light as it was raised. The Western Church priest could only call out a strangled "Wait!" from where he lay on his knees Before the axe fell, severing his head and spraying blood over the cobblestones.
Dimitri gasped, thoughts flickering to his father's very similar death within Duscur's flames before he perished the image swiftly. From beside the now headless priest stood Rhea, Seteth and Shamir, and as the corpse fell with a disgusting squelch that encouraged more blood to splatter over the stones and the three nearby overseers, Seteth flinched slightly, Shamir tensed and Rhea made not a single movement.
The woman's eyes burned with a silent fury, lips pressed tightly together and fists clenched and shaking at her sides. Dimitri had never seen such an expression on the serene woman—an expression made considerably more sinister with the blood staining her face.
"Next," she said in a cold whisper that the silent crowd still managed to hear.
"You don't understand!" One of the priests cried as Shamir stoically grabbed his shoulders, lead him in front of the Executioner and slammed him viciously to the ground. His knee bones slamming against the stone was heard throughout the courtyard.
"I don't understand?" Rhea questioned in a dangerously low voice, teal eyes narrowing menacingly. "You initiated a rebellion, infiltrated Garreg Mach Monastery, let in a small army of bird masked fiends that killed many of my knights, endangered the lives of every person in this building and stole The Sword of the Creator! On the Rite of Rebirth no less! I understand plenty, you sinful unholy abomination!"
The crescendo in Rhea's tirade, sent chills down Dimitri's spine and he anxiously watched the Executioner raise their axe again.
"We were—!"
The axe fell a second time and Rhea didn't so much as twitch when more blood painted her dress, hair and face red.
A boy from the crowd of Black Eagles with long dark green hair pulled into a pony tail heaved the contents of his stomach over the ground. And from beside Dimitri, Ashe squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered.
"The Goddess will never forgive you for our execution! We had no idea this would happen!" The next priest cried as he was led forward.
"Your very existence is unforgivable to the Goddess!" Rhea roared. "The Western Church is a disease that from this day forth I. Will. Purge!"
"What?!" The final priest, clutched in place by two knights cried as his companion met the same headless fate of the other two. "We have nothing to do with the Western Church!"
"Spare the theatre," Seteth said sharply, standing slightly away from the growing pool of blood decorating the ground. "You have already been identified. Not a word from your mouth will convince this warranted punishment from seizing."
"Monsters! All of you!" The priest screeched as he struggled against Shamir. "You've killed countless of our brethren just like this!"
Shamir delivered a hard jab to the man's stomach and forced him to his knees like the others. "Quiet," she spat as he was held down by two Knights of Seiros.
"You will pay, Archbishop Rhea!" He screams. "You will pay!"
Rhea didn't say a word as the axe fell for a final time.
As the corpse fell, it seemed to cast a spell of silence over the students and staff members watching. Some, had burst into tears, others, like the Black Eagles boy were throwing up, and many, like Ashe, refused to look at all.
There were of course others who wore a perfect mask of nonchalance—Edelgard for example, seemed predictably at ease with the whole ordeal and watched with unreadable eyes, even as blood soaked her boots.
Then there was the only one of his kind, Professor Jeritza who had a look of sick enjoyment on his face. The man caught Dimitri's glance, dark blue eyes glittering in the torch's fire and promoting Dimitri to swiftly look away.
"My friends," Rhea said, turning to the crowd finally, a serene smile melting away the snarl on her lips. "Tonight was a lesson, a lesson in obedience, a lesson in humility, and a lesson in wrong doing." She delicately folded her hands over her chest and walked forward, dress trailing in liquid crimson.
"These poor lost souls decided they were superior to The Goddess, and thus, in an act of sheer hubris, attempted to showcase their supposed power by infiltrating this holy sanctuary on such an important day."
Her eyes hardened as they swept over the faces of the crowd. "Listen to me, children, faculty members, priests, and knights—if any of you threaten to raise your weapons to the heavens, you will receive no mercy."
And from the corner of his eye, Dimitri saw Edelgard tilt her chin upwards with a subtle smirk.
It was his imagination, surely, because after Dimitri blinked, the expression was gone and her face was eerily neutral once more.
"That is all," Rhea said, voice melodic and gentle once more. With a soft smile and an elegant bow she said, "May the Goddess be with you."
The crowd dispersed in a flurry of whispered conversations and choked and horrified sobs and Dimitri had made a beeline for the bathhouse, eager to finally rid his skin of the dried blood of his fallen foes.
Dimitri swallowed as their black robes and beaked masks went through his mind—indeed he had been just as much judge, jury, and executioner as Rhea had been, just as angry and just as merciless.
They hadn't even fought back...he couldn't understand it.
But he had to remind himself that they killed his father that night and had killed innocents this night—he shouldn't have felt guilt, the blood caking his flesh shouldn't have filled him with horror and regret. It should've filled him with pride and glee; he'd made his father smile for Goddess sake!
But even with those thoughts in mind, Dimitri still paused to look at his bloody gauntlets. Bile crawled up his throat, his stomach clenched and twisted, and guilt weighed heavy on his shoulder.
"You are going to be king," a familiar voice stated, hand gripping Dimitri's shoulder firmly. And despite the small size of it, it was still strong enough to pull him out of his near-vomiting experience as its owner continued, "It won't do to have your future subjects watching you loose your dinner over an execution."
Dimitri turned to find Edelgard by his side, a disapproving frown on her lips and look in her eyes. It was a look that reminded him of Patrica whenever Dimitri would run into her room because he had managed to rip his clothing yet again, but had also ended up tracking mud across the elegant carpets.
It made his heart ache in sadness and in bittersweet nostalgia before he swallowed the grief, blinked away the tears and answered, "Yes I—you're right. I know I'm not—I'm just not quite comfortable with..." Dimitri gestured flippantly towards the bloodied courtyard where the corpses were being carted away.
Edelgard slid her hand off his shoulder and rose an eyebrow. "No? I expected you to be used to things like this."
Dimitri averted his gaze, the blood sticking to him more prominent on his nerves than ever as he slowly scratched at a dry crimson patch on his cheek. He smiled mirthlessly. "You're right. A monster like me should appreciate such bloodshed...I did tonight after all."
Edelgard inhaled sharply, paused, and the said, "That...isn't what I meant—I..." she paused again and Dimitri turned back to her. The girl's pastel eyes were now staring at the ground and filled with frustration—with herself, Dimitri knew. It was another familiar expression, one Edelgard wore frequently an eternity ago.
"It doesn't matter," she said finally, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. When she looked back at him, El was gone. "What I said was insensitive anyhow when taking into account your—my apologies."
Dimitri's mirthless smile softened into a genuine albeit weak one. "It's alright. Even if you did mean it the way it came out I...I wouldn't fault you for saying it."
Edelgard crossed her arms and frowned. "That self deprecation won't do for a soon to be king either."
Dimitri sighed and looked down. "Which is why I feel the throne would be better served by—"
"Stop that!"
Dimitri flinched at the sharpness in her voice.
"Stop selling yourself short. Stop listening to those demons," Edelgard gripped Dimitri's chin and he blinked in surprise as she tilted his face upwards. "Chin up, shoulders back, eyes forward. If you can't do that now, you'll never do it with the weight of a crown on your head and yes—" she cut off Dimitri's protests by holding up a finger from the hand not grasping his chin. "—you will wear it one day very soon. Ghosts or not, if you keep up this habit of dwelling on your faults, you'll not only bring yourself down but others as well."
Dimitri furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Edelgard—"
"Now, no more of that self depreciation from you, understood?" Edelgard said firmly, eyes narrowed seriously in such a way that reminded Dimitri once more of her younger self, how she would sharply scold him every time he lead with the wrong foot during dancing or got one of the names of her dolls wrong.
And it made him smile warmly, momentarily forgetting the blood on his body and the execution, and the robed mages.
He closed his eyes and held on to those memories of her, of her warm hand leading him through a dance and now presently thumbing his chin. Those sensations washed away his sickness, if only for a moment. "Thank you, Edelgard," he said softly, placing a hand on her wrist and squeezing softly.
There was a pause before she returned the smile. "I'm...glad I could help. Perhaps..." she paused once more, looking away and seemingly thinking hard on her next words before turning to look at him again, opening her mouth and—
The sound of somebody clearing their throat caused the two nobles to jump back and turn towards the crossed arms and sternly frowning form of Seteth. "If the two of you are finished canoodling, I would highly suggest taking a bath and heading to bed. Classes will resume tomorrow after all."
Dimitri's cheeks heated and he exclaimed, "We weren't—! I-I mean...yes, of course Seteth," before sparing the equally embarrassed Edelgard a quick bow of farewell. "Goodnight, Edelgard."
"Goodnight," She replied, face quickly regaining its cool detachment before turning on her heel and walking off.
As Dimitri watched her alabaster hair trail away through the night, he vaguely wondered what she was about to say.
-o0o-
Two days in and Rhea had assumed this brand new month couldn't get much worse, but alas...
"Margrave Gautier sent an express messenger claiming to have lost The Lance of Ruin to his banished son, Miklan." Seteth said grimly, looking up from the letter and handing it to Rhea, flinching when she snatched it from him and scanned the page with rage filled eyes.
"It's them," she hissed venomously, clutching and crinkling the paper in shaking hands. "I know it's them! The filthy monsters that—!" She paused in her tirade and sighed heavily, handing the letter back to her advisor. "Forgive me, Seteth. I—"
"I understand completely, Rhea," Seteth said. "This has been an extremely trying time for us all."
"Indeed," Rhea said wearily as she turned from Seteth to the large windows before her. She exited the room through the translucent doors and stepped onto the balcony seeking fresh air.
"I don't mean to push you," Seteth said hesitantly as he followed slowly. "But...with a Hero's Relic, Miklan can cause untold damage. What do you plan to do?"
Rhea thought for but a moment before stating, "We will send the Golden Deer to stop him."
"Students!" Seteth cried. "To stop a madman with The Lance of Ruin?! Rhea that is absurd!"
"They will have Professor Byleth, she is—"
"And on that note," Seteth said sharply. "Why does it seem you are sending her on virtually every serious mission as opposed to our highly trained knights? I understood the bandits, but a rebellion, guarding The Holy Mausoleum—a task she failed, may I remind you—and now to stop a rampaging lunatic? Rhea—!"
"The knights are currently purging The Western Church throughout Faerghus," Rhea said. "The Deer will do just fine."
"But—!"
"Do not question my decision, Seteth," Rhea said sharply. "I am not in the mood for argument."
Seteth sighed heavily and muttered, "Understood, Archbishop. But before I leave, there is something else I should inform you of."
Rhea closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, trying to steel her mind for whatever other horrible news there was.
"You have another letter from a student asking for permission to leave; Prince Dimitri has been called back by Duke Rufus and is set to leave Friday afternoon."
Rhea let out a soft sigh of relief before opening her eyes and turning back around to face Seteth. "Because of the infiltration? Or is it something else?"
Seteth shook his head. "He didn't say. Simply stated it was his uncle's wishes. I have the letter here if you'd like to—"
"That won't be necessary, Seteth," Rhea smiled, "Thank you. Prince Dimitri has my permission to leave."
Seteth nodded and left as Rhea turned her troubled face back over the balcony once more. However it was slightly eased at the mere sight of Byleth as shepherded her class into the Training Grounds.
-o0o-
Edelgard had known it wouldn't be long before she was dragged to another pointless meeting after the infiltration's success—and she had been, two days after the execution.
What she hadn't counted on, was Tomas's ire.
"Dozens of our brethren's lives lost, and all we have to show for it is a useless Hero's Relic without a Crest Stone!" Tomas growled angrily as he, Edelgard—in the guise of The Flame Emperor—and Arundel stood in the chilly shadows of the Sealed Forest.
"I will admit, it is a shame this weapon cannot be utilized," Arundel said, holding the sword's hilt and tilting it side to side appraisingly, the weapons orange glow burning in the darkness. "But I shall still count this as a win. Well done the both of you."
"'A win!'" Tomas cried, slamming his cane angrily against the ground. "That—that boy massacred—!"
"We're well abreast with that fact, Tomas; you told us already," Edelgard drawled and Tomas shot her venomous glare. In truth she was rather unbothered by the deaths of those bastards—they didn't deserve mercy and Dimitri had sent that message to them loud and clear.
Tomas then turned to the equally nonplussed Arundel and barked, "This doesn't concern you at all?"
Arundel sighed heavily and looked at Tomas as if he were a child. "Solon," he said in a faux patient tone. "We've planned this war for years—I am disappointed that you lack the basic comprehension to understand that we will take losses to achieve our goals."
Tomas shook his head angrily. "I am well aware it's just—I've never perceived—in one night, one boy, so many—!"
"Now what to do with this?" Arundel said, cutting off Tomas and holding The Sword of the Creator aloft.
"Seeing as how it is useless to us with its Crest Stone gone, perhaps we can scrap it and use its materials for more weapons," Edelgard suggested, silently—and admittedly childishly—smirking at the bristling Tomas from beneath her mask. "You are getting closer to recreating them, correct? Perhaps having more of the required material will speed things along."
"Unfortunately, replicating the Hero's Relics has proven harder than anticipated," Arundel frowned. "And the craftsmanship of them makes them difficult for reuse..." he slid his palm down the orange side, and Edelgard could have sworn she saw the thing twitch—
Which was ridiculous of course.
"No, we will keep it for now, you—" Arundel pointed the sword at Edelgard. "Will find the Crest Stone this sword belongs to so it can be properly used. And you—" he pointed the sword at Tomas. "—Will continue your work with Dimitri—"
"Absolutely not!" Tomas barked. "That boy is menace! A bloodthirsty lunatic that—!
"Says the man who experiments on children," Edelgard stated bitterly.
Tomas gestured to her with a free hand. "See? Look what he's doing! Corrupting our puppets!"
It was Edelgard's turn to bristle at being called a puppet, as Arundel cooly said, "I have taken far too many steps to ensure he is ensnared within our agenda to dispose of him now, Tomas."
And despite the fact that Dimitri becoming webbed into a plot of human genocide was horrible and Fódlan knew what kind of blackmail Arundel would be implementing to keep him in line—the fact that Arundel found killing him more annoyance than necessary sent unwarranted relief through her soul.
Now, she didn't have to worry about Tomas's threats on Dimitri's life, and judging by the enraged and incredulous glance he shot Edelgard before returning to Arundel, he knew it too.
Perhaps now she could even...
She sighed and shook her head. No, she'd be a fool if she felt this meant she could go around making friends—it still remained a waste of time.
"That is preposterous! We were just fine without Lambert's spawn before, and we'll be just fine now!" Tomas exclaimed.
"I have no doubt," Arundel said simply. "However having not one, but two royal heirs in our possession will prove incredibly helpful."
Edelgard swallowed more indignant bile and stayed silent. The fact that Arundel had the audacity to speak of her as a mere tool in his insane human murdering crusade while she was very much present showed just how prideful he was.
'Soon,' she reminded herself. Soon she could could finally bury the knife in his back—and oh what a glorious day that would be.
"Thales—"
"That is final, Solon," Arundel said sharply.
Tomas clenched his cane tightly and bowed his head in a show of respect. "Of course, Thales."
Arundel nodded approvingly before turning back to The Sword of the Creator. "Speaking of Hero's Relics and The Kingdom of Faerghus, it seems the pathetic and disowned heir of Gautier is causing a ruckus."
"And you're asking us to stop him?" Edelgard asked in confusion.
"No. I don't care about what he's doing—I care about the weapon he's doing it with," Arundel corrected and nodded towards Tomas. "He has stolen the Lance of Ruin from the Gautier Estate and I would like it in our possession. Solon, your job is to retrieve it and hopefully cool your insolent temper while you're at it. Understood?"
Tomas's face pinched but he didn't argue. He simply nodded silently and muttered, "If that is all..."
Arundel nodded. "You are dismissed."
Tomas disappeared in a flash of magenta, Arundel sighing in the quiet night. "I never expecting him of all people to get cold feet."
Edelgard didn't answer, and Arundel turned to her and said, "You know your mission, do not fail me."
Edelgard nodded. "Of course," she said before she too warped away in a beam of magenta. Though as she reappeared in the solace of her dorm room and unlocked And removed her mask with an electric whirring and pneumatic hiss, Edelgard found she was unsure how exactly she was to find the Flame Crest Stone—if it wasn't in The Sword where else could it be?
The princess let out a tired sigh as she continued removing her armour, and placed the pieces neatly into its chest.
She would simply have to figure it out.
-o0o-
"'...you dying would be inconvenient for my credibility as King, and thus, it is by my side you will remain until further notice'? I know it's disrespectful to say but...I don't believe I've ever read a more passive aggressive letter in my life," Ingrid frowned as she squinted at the letter Rufus had sent Dimitri before turning back to the prince in question as he neatly folded his clothes.
"I say it's foolish," Felix scoffed as he leaned against Dimitri's door frame. "How is The Boar getting offed by some angry bandits going to ruin his credibility?"
"It's no secret the two don't get along," Sylvain said, lounging on the bed. "People will probably assume he set the whole thing up to become king permanently."
"But paying a societal pariah to steal a Hero's Relic, infiltrate The Monastery, and kill His Highness? that's ridiculous!" Ingrid argued. "Who would believe that?"
"Dearest Ingrid, your forget that Rufus himself is a ridiculous man," Sylvain said with a snort. "Remember that animal themed party he threw? With the live Duscur Bear?"
"The ballroom still has claw marks all over the walls," Dimitri informed them with a chuckle. "And Count Rowe now refuses every invitation Uncle sends to him."
Sylvain gestured to Dimitri and said, "See? Completely insane!"
"Must run in the family," Felix stated offhandedly, ignoring the warning look the nearby Dedue and Ingrid gave him.
"Alright, all done," Dimitri said, giving his suitcase a pat. Now he wouldn't need to rush for tomorrow. "Felix are you certain—?"
"No," Felix snapped. "If that idiot old man thinks I'm going home, he's more air-headed than I thought."
"Can't you give your father some slack, Fe?" Sylvain said. "At least he cares."
Felix scoffed but didn't answer.
All five occupants within the room turned when they heard a dainty knock on the opened door.
"Hello, Dimitri! Sylvain, Ingrid, Dedue, Felix!" Flayn chirped, the handle of a covered picnic basket clasped in her two small hands.
"Flayn," Dimitri said warmly as everyone but Felix greeted the girl in kind. "Hello to you as well."
"I hear you will be leaving us for awhile."
"Yes, tomorrow afternoon to be precise."
"Well with that in mind, I decided to get you a little treat for the road! Ta-da!" Flayn beamed, holding up the picnic basket.
"Oh! Thank you Flayn! Did you make these yourself?" Dimitri asked, peaking under the cloth.
Flayn batted a hand. "No, no. I got you quality food from the bakery in town—croissants, cupcakes, tarts...I figured you'd rather that instead of my 'food," she said, holding up finger quotes.
Dimitri shook his head. "Nonsense! I would have loved to have some of your food. Do you have any leftovers I can bring as well?"
Everyone but Flayn turned to Dimitri as if he'd grown a second head while Flayn looked like she wanted to burst in glee. "Oh Goddess! You were telling the truth! You do like my cooking!" Her lip trembled and tears rimmed her eyes as she said, "I have a bit of fish treats left, I can pack you some!" And with that, the girl dashed out of the room with a delighted squeal.
"Dude...really?" Sylvan said. "I know Flayn's a cute girl and all but...are you sure she's worth it?"
"Worth it? I genuinely enjoy her food, Sylvain," Dimitri said, picking up his suitcase with one hand and the food basket with the other, holding it out to his friends. "Do any of you want some of these treats?"
Sylvain immediately sat up took two tarts while Ingrid said, "Are you sure? It was a gift from Flayn to you, Your Highness."
"And I wish to share it. You don't think I'll eat it all, do you? In fact—" Dimitri placed his suitcase on the bed and the basket on the vanity. "How about you invite the other Blue Lions? Annette, Ashe and Mercedes like sweets, don't they...?" Dimitri paused, a thought slowly forming in his mind as he looked down at the piles of pastries.
It was probably a foolish though but...
"I'll be right back," Dimitri said, taking out a handkerchief, placing a cupcake, a tart, and a chocolate chip cookie on the fabric before folding it in his hands and exiting the room. Over his shoulder he called, "Help yourself!" Before continuing on his way.
Goddess, he hoped he wasn't about to embarrass himself.
He found himself before the door he was certain was Edelgard's room and was poised to knock when a voice cooly stated, "What are you doing?"
Dimitri turned to come face to face with Edelgard's scowling retainer—Hubert if he remembered correctly. "Ah! Hubert, good morning," Dimitri said with a smile. "Do you happen to know where Edelgard is? Is she in her room or...?"
"That depends," Hubert drawled, crossing his arms. "Are you asking?"
"Erm...yes?"
"In that case I'm afraid I can't disclose that inform—"
"She's in the library," a strawberry blond young man muttered glumly as he walked towards them. "She shot down my brilliant battle for dominance...again."
"Oh, well I'm...sorry to here that," Dimitri said. "But thank you for the information," he gave a quick bow to the boy, ignored Hubert's glower, and sped walked to his new destination.
As the boy had said, Edelgard was indeed in the library. However, she appeared to be in a hushed conversation with Tomas by its entrance, giving Dimitri pause.
He considered leaving and coming back when she wasn't busy but Tomas caught his eye and smiled brightly. "Dimitri my boy! Something the matter?"
"Hello, Tomas! Not all, I just wished to..." he looked down at his napkin full of treats then back to the pristinely guarded face of Edelgard, then back to the treats, suddenly feeling foolish.
Why would Edelgard want anything from him? They'd had a moment after the execution but...technically speaking they were still supposed to be not talking with each other weren't they? Unless that wasn't the case but Edelgard hadn't told him otherwise and why would she of all people want to have a strawberry tart? What if he had wrongly assumed—?
"Dimitri?" Edelgard asked, snapping him out of his musings. Looking up, Dimitri found Edelgard frowning, arms crossed over her chest and head tilted slightly to the side. "Is there something you wanted to say?"
"I—ah..." Nervously, Dimitri stiffly stepped forward and stuck his arms out to present the half wrapped parcel of pastries. "It-it isn't the prettiest way to give it to you but—"
"Oh," Edelgard said. Eyes wide and stunned, she stared down at the pastry covered handkerchief with a semi-parted mouth before saying, "I—you—pastries."
"Sorry, if you don't like it I just—"
"No, it's not..." she looked away slightly, cheeks tinting a slight pink. "How...did you know?"
Dimitri's shoulders slumped lightly in relief as he said, "It was a lucky guess; I saw you staring at the ice cream two months ago and figured—"
"Oh," Edelgard repeated, head now lowered and cheeks a cherry red as she gingerly took the treats.
"B-b-but I haven't been dwelling on it! Truly, I would've forgotten all about it completely had Flayn not given me this going away basket—!"
"Going away?" Tomas repeated, and the two jumped. Dimitri was ashamed to admit he forget the man was there. "Are you leaving as well, Dimitri?"
"Only for a bit," Dimitri said. "My uncle is...worried about the Monastery being infiltrated once more and Miklan getting his hands on me. It happened with The Western Church so it could happen again with the bandits he feels."
Tomas's expression became oddly unreadable. "Curious," he mused. "Why would Miklan be interested in you?"
"Well, I think it's the reason why many of the other noble children are leaving as well; ransom money," Dimitri said, then frowned in thought. "But if it were a personal thing...perhaps getting to Sylvain through me."
"Hm, what a completely rational fear," Tomas said with a smile. Edelgard looked up from her pastries and gave Tomas a sideways glance, flush gone and eyes narrowed.
"I...suppose?" Dimitri said, eyes flickering confusedly between the duo's change in mood. "Anyway, I must be off. I hope you enjoy your gift, Edelgard. You can..." he smiled softly. "You can consider it a thank you for your words of wisdom that night."
"Thank you," she said, cooly, formally. A smile didn't grace her lips and her eyes betrayed not a thing as they landed on him.
It stung more than Dimitri cared to admit. Did he do something wrong?
Awkwardly, he bowed swiftly and left the library, feeling two pairs of eyes on his back.
-o0o-
He was planning something, Edelgard could feel it.
That glint in his eye was unmistakable, the smile on his face the extra bounce in his step. When she had confronted him on it he had merely stated, "The fact that parents are finding Garreg Mach Monastery unsafe for their children shows that the church is loosing credibility. I am pleased."
It was a pro to all this muddled madness certainly, but Edelgard knew he was lying, she knew it had something to do with Miklan and Dimitri; people had been leaving in fear of Miklan and another Monastery inflation since the morning after the execution, but it was only after hearing of Dimitri did Tomas's mood heighten.
It was a smart plan if Tomas wanted him gone. Point Miklan to the right direction using his bitterness as a tool, and Tomas would otherwise not need to raise a finger and provoke Arundel's ire. And knowing her "uncle", Edelgard knew full well he would see Dimitri's death as an annoying blip in his carefully crafted plans but would nevertheless move on with a casual "oh well."
But then she could just be—for some obnoxious reason—paranoid. She found paranoia over Dimitri's life had been a recurring thing ever since that fateful night during the end of the Great Tree Moon, a paranoia that had spurred her into quelling his guilt during the execution.
Edelgard paused in her current essay writing to glance at the treats lying innocently before her atop the handkerchief draped over the vanity wood.
It would be prudent to finish them, even if it was another reminder as to why she had (foolishly) grown attached to the prince— otherwise it'd all go to waste, wouldn't it?
Sighing resignedly she placed her quill down and removed her glove, taking the strawberry tart and gingerly sinking her teeth into it.
Edelgard closed her eyes and smiled as the taste blessed her tastebuds. Goodness, she couldn't remember eating something so fantastic!
It took her only a minute to finish the tart and the rest of the treats, even found herself childishly licking the cupcake icing and tart jelly off her fingers. With a satisfied sigh she fell back in her chair and smiled at the ceiling.
And then it faded. What was she doing? Enjoying sweets with everything going on now?
What was she doing worrying about Dimitri for the fifty trillionth time when she knew, she knew, she had told herself several times that it didn't matter? That he was distracting her?
Besides...Tomas wouldn't be that foolish would he? It would be...too coincidental for him to go after the prince after he had ranted about him to Arundel, no? There was no reason she had to worry and waste precious energy she could be using to find The Crest of Flames on thinking up ways to thwart whatever plans Tomas may or may not have.
Right?
Right.
-o0o-
Through his closed eyelids and the thin fabric of his tent, Miklan could see a bright flash of magenta burn through. It immediately stirred him from slumber and spurred him to snatch The Lance it Ruin laying innocently beside him.
He squinted into the darkness of the forest as he pushed open the tent flaps, pointing the lance in multiple directions before barking, "Who's there?"
The camp fire in the centre of the camp spontaneously combusted, covering the night air in a warm glow and causing Miklan to jump.
"Hello, Miklan," an old man said politely as he casually poked at the flaming logs.
Miklan pointed his lance at the man and snapped. "Who the hell are you? How in the hell did you get passed the men standing guard?"
The man smirked, jabbing a thumb behind him. At the very edge of the flame's reach, several bandits were sprawled on the ground, blood soaking the soil.
An old man did that?
Miklan swallowed nervously but attempted to keep his face remaining fierce as he stepped closer to the man and pointed his weapon at the man's throat.
"You didn't answer my second question,"
Miklan said.
"I don't care to answer it," The old man said simply.
Miklan sneered before saying, "Fine. Next question; how the hell did you find me and what do you want?"
"You've caused quite the ruckus in three days time, boy. Yes indeed. A few questions from scared villagers pointed me in the correct direction," The man said. "And I would only like to help."
Miklan scoffed and the old man ignored him, instead he said with a broader smirk, "Say, do you fancy catching a prince?"
This gave Miklan pause, he furrowed his brow. "'Catching a prince?' What are you on about?"
The old man stood and brushed his clothes before stepping around the fire. Miklan kept his lance trained on him all the while, but much to his annoyance, the man was unfazed.
"Here," The man said, leaning forwards on his cane and holding out a rolled map. "Prince Dimitri is on his way back home and one of my spies within the castle has discerned the route they'll be taking."
Miklan moves to snatch the map but the man stepped out it reach. "Hold on, boy. I need your word that once you have what you wanted, you'll give me...that," The man poked the edge of The Lance of Ruin, and when he pulled back a bead of blood appeared on his fingertip.
Miklan glanced at the lance before glaring at the man. "How do I know this isn't just some game your playing?"
The man shrugged. "I'm afraid I can't prove my honesty. However, isn't this a risk worth taking? Imagine what you can do with Faerghus's Crown Prince as leverage!"
The old geezer had a point—with that royal brat in his clutches, every noble family from Fraldarius to Charon would bend backwards to fulfill any of Miklan's whims in order to ensure the safety of their precious prince—not to mention Duke Rufus himself!
But then again, how could he defend his ultimate prize without The Lance of Ruin?
Miklan stood the lance upright and away from the man's throat, watching its blade twitch like a scared insect. No, he wasn't giving up this beauty any time soon—or ever.
But the old man didn't have to know that, did he?
Miklan smirked and turned back to the man, holding out his hand. "Alrighty then. Seems we got ourselves a deal."
The man grinned and shook the hand. "Excellent."
-o0o-
A day later and Dimitri found himself outside the town gates waiting for his carriage, a suitcase and a trunk at his feet, two treat baskets in his arms—one from Flayn and the other courtesy of Annette and Mercedes—while watching the long line up for Correspondence Day over his shoulder with a frown. "Everything's all a muck in Faerghus, isn't it, Your Highness?" Ashe asked softly, as the prince turned back to the group of Blue Lions standing by his side to see him off.
Dimitri gave the boy a weak smile. "Not forever. I know it."
Ashe shook his head and glanced down at the dirt ground, fists clenched at his sides. "You can't possibly know that."
"It will. His Highness will fix everything once he takes the throne," Dedue assured Ashe while Dimitri flinched.
Fix everything. How could he fix Faerghus when he couldn't even fix himself?
"Chin up, shoulders back, eyes forward. If you can't do that now, you'll never do it with the weight of a crown on your head." Edelgard's words rang in his head and Dimitri took in a deep breath, straightening.
"Dedue is correct, Ashe. Once I am king, I will return stability to our country," Dimitri said and Ashe watched him for a moment, searching his face before smiling. Dimitri immediately felt a smile of his own appear.
Felix snorted and Ingrid elbowed him sharply in the ribs, causing him to hiss and glare indignantly.
"Oh, stop it, you too!" Mercedes chided. "We won't see Dimitri and Dedue for some time; try and enjoy their company instead of fighting."
"I never enjoy either of their company."
"Oh, why did you even come if you're just going to be an evil grouch, Felix!" Annette scowled.
"So, Your Highness," Sylvain said, blessedly changing the topic and draping an arm over Dimitri's shoulder. "Tell me all about the girls Duke Rufus throws your way, yeah? In great detail, may I add."
Dimitri rolled his eyes. Or not so blessedly.
"Do not provoke His Highness."
"Okay, sheesh! I was just making a suggestion..."
Dimitri smiled softly to himself. He silently hoped Miklan would be taken care of soon so is Uncle could let him return to the Lions class. He dug his hand into Flayn's gift basket and took out a charred fish cheesecake slice to much on.
Dedue sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "I worry for your health each time you eat that, Your Highness. I would almost prefer you eating the weeds again."
Six pairs of eyes rounded on him. "Eating weeds?" Mercedes asked with a baffled voice and widened eyes.
"One time!" Dimitri cried, face flushed. "I-I wanted to—nothing."
"Apologies, Your Highness. It was not my intention to embarrass you."
"No, no, it's fine. It was foolish of me to do anyhow."
"So...speaking of weeds," Ashe said. "Do you two garden?"
"Not I, but Dedue enjoys it," Dimitri said, nodding towards his retainer who nodded in confirmation.
"No way!" Ashe beamed. "Do you plant flowers? What's your favourite?"
Dimitri smiled as the two began a conversation on plants and flowers, the almost-but-not-quite smile Dedue had on his face was heartwarming to say the least.
While idly looking around his surroundings, his gaze fell on a familiar sight standing by the gates.
Tomas watched him, smiled and waved. Dimitri returned the gesture but his heart stuttered at the seeming... insincerity of the librarian's gesture—the cruel edge to his lips, the sinister gleam in his eyes—
"Your Highness?"
Dimitri blinked out of his stupor and turned back to Lions, all of whom (barring Felix) watched him with worried frowns.
"S-Sorry," Dimitri forced a smile. "What were we talking about?"
-o0o-
AN: This Weekend Chapter is named Prince in Distress because I did everything in my power to make sure Dimitri suffers during the second and third parts of this lil mini arc :D
Anyway! That's it for today! Tomorrow, we're jumping right into part II!
Fantasy Fan OUT!