AN: Ahem! *taps mic*. Uh, hey!
So, it's been five months which is...um
I've been hit with a crap ton of writers' block mixed with stress, sims3isadditctiveomg, plus I've been busy with other stories as well (though they haven't been much easier to update lol lack of motivation is a bitch), and in the realm of Fe3H I've been outlining the rewrite and writing an SI story which you can check out if you're curious.
Oh! And I also have ko-fi (ko-fi slash thefantasygoddess) so you can tip me, get writing commissions, stuff like that :3
Enough rambling! Here's the chapter! Trigger warning for the beginning, however. Don't read it if semi-descriptive torture bothers you.
Also, I apologize for any typos!
Chapter XXVI: The Gift
While at the mercy of a million metal objects and liquids he had no name for, Dimitri imagined.
He imagined El screaming her throat hoarse as thin metal pierced straight to the bone instead of he. He imagined El struggling desperately against her restraints in a futile attempt for freedom. He imagined El tossing her pride away and begging, pleading with them to stop, stop, she'd do anything just stop.
He never begged of course—not out loud. He refused to give them the pleasure no matter how often his veins became filled with more toxins than blood, no matter how wet his cheeks got, no matter how badly he simply wanted to die.
Out of pride, however? Oh no.
His family had returned, and with them his reminder of his goals. So when the pain made his vision spot while savagely claiming his voice, he would lock his gaze on his father's furious one, Stepmother's judgmental one, Glenn's sardonic one…and he would bite his tongue until it filled his mouth with iron.
Then, there was the second reason—El. El had gone through this, as a child. She had not been a bloodthirsty weapon of the dead like he, but an innocent child. And not only had the Goddess failed to rescue her, she had let her live with a reminder of that torment for all time. Her scars, her nightmares, her memories of her siblings—
He had no right to complain.
Suddenly, the sickly coloured lights flickered like fireflies in the night before the world was plunged into darkness.
"Oh come on!" A voice groaned from within it.
Kronya. She had been assigned to look over Dimitri's torture and she was the only one to see it as such. The other bird masked and ghostly skinned fiends prattled on about "progress" and "breakthroughs" but Kronya had no such delusions.
"How about punishment?" Patricia hissed in his ear. "For your weakness."
That was also valid, Dimitri figured.
"Thales must be working on Project Reaper," a tormenter's voice grunted, just as a flame sprung to life atop his palm and dimly illuminated the room. It looked incredibly drab and dull without the…tech-noky…glow usually permeating through it. And the hallway beyond—
Dimitri inhaled shakily. The hallway beyond.
The lack of…light seemed to have done something to the doors.
His body instinctively leaned forward, only for raw and ravaged skin to brush against bloody leather, reminding him of his situation.
Dimitri squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shuddering sigh.
"Ugh! The generators aren't working either!" Kronya snapped as she and the men started flicking and poking things from their perches atop rectangular boxes. "And it was just getting good…" she sighed.
"It's been three days. We've taken enough samples anyhow."
"Pft. I haven't got enough screams."
"We don't want to lessen his already dwindling, Kronya."
"Yeah, according to who?"
"According to me," a firm voice snapped as footsteps echoed throughout the room and another flame burst into existence.
Dimitri furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth. Every instinct in his bones were telling him to lunge forwards and claw at Arundel's face until it was unrecognizable, but his burning, mutilated chest and the raw patches burning his arms and legs reminded him why he couldn't.
It didn't stop him from snarling at him as the man watched him cooly and hummed in thought. "The extraction was successful?"
The bird men nodded with simple grunts and Kronya quickly spluttered "I didn't know you wanted him back a certain way! Promise! I-I just thought—!"
Arundel waved an uncaring hand through the air and Kronya's jaw snapped shut.
"W-what—" Dimitri swallowed saliva to lessen the rasp of his aching throat before continuing. "Do you…want?"
"Is everything ready for his return?" Arundel asked, ignoring Dimitri completely and turning towards his audience.
"Yes, sir!" Kronya squeaked. "I-I think. Maragaret came by the other day and told me she got everything done and to stop the tort—experiments. I thought it was just her being boring but if I'd known it was you—!"
"That is all, thank you. You three," he nodded to the silently waiting bird men. "Give him a wheelchair, please. I fear his body won't be able to take Warping at the moment."
The men nodded before striding out of the room, an awkwardly shuffling Kronya left behind. "Is…is there anything you want me to do, Sir?"
"Simply leaving me alone with the young king should be sufficient, Kronya."
The girl nodded subduedly before skulking out of the room as Arundel turned back to Dimitri, smiling coldly at his glare.
"What…a-are you planning?" Dimitri demanded, any real force ruined by his rasped and shaky voice. Still, he attempted to add some by trying to tilt his chin up and fill his eyes with as much venom as he had the strength to show.
"You'll know soon enough," he said with a chuckle, clearly finding his attempt at defiance laughable. "For now…" he pressed a palm against the deep wounds on Dimitri's bicep and sharp, raw pain shot through his system and tore a pained gasp from his lungs. "Remember this. Remember this pain, this room, these objects…" he gestured towards the tray of bloodied utensils and took a small dagger (scalpel? Was that what it was called?)
Dimitri tensed, eyeing the blade as it twinkled in the flame's light and dripped with his blood. "Anytime you think of defying me, you will remember." He set the scalpel down as he brushed his sweaty bangs from his forehead and lenses forward so he was the only thing in the young king's gaze. "Will you remember, Dimitri? Or will I have to remind you?"
Dimitri shuddered, his family hissing in his ears as he closed his eyes and nodded jerkily in defeat. "I…I will remember."
No more. No more.
His family spat at him for his cowardice, his selfishness, his willingness to bare his neck for collaring to none other than the man who had taken them away from him.
It was selfish, oh so selfish, he knew that. Instead of worrying about his family who he was letting down, his Kingdom, his friends…
But the dull ache in his bones and the sharp sting on his flesh seemed to intensify in pain as he remembered…remembered what…
"I swear it."
Arundel smiled and cupped his cheek. "Good." He then lifted his flame and turned towards the open doorway where the bird men were returning with a long wheeled chair with clinking buckles.
"He has been subdued, however do remain vigilant," Arundel told them before striding past them and into the darkness.
"Do you hate pain more than you love us?" Patricia questioned, arms crossed and lips pursed in disapproval.
"No—"
"What kind of heir of Blaiddyd are you anyhow?" Glenn demanded. "Shying away from a little discomfort?"
"I—"
"Shame. It is shame that I have conceived and raised," Lambert spat furiously. "A coward. A blasted coward!"
There was a light tink as one of the masked men tapped that horrifying liquid needle against a bowl to rid it of its excess.
Dimitri's breathing increased, head shaking subconsciously and limbs quaking as he calmly strode closer.
"No," he said weakly, pathetically. His blasted, blasted throat. "Don't…no…I—" his pointless objections pittered out into strangled gasp as liquid entered his veins and slowly numbed his body.
The man then nodded to his companions, and they efficiently began to unbuckle him. He wanted to lunge out, kick them away, anything but—
'I deserve this,' he reminded himself as the last of the buckles fell away and they began cleaning his wounds with sharp smelling liquid that burned. 'I am weak.'
But, but.
"Prove your loyalty to us," Lambert snapped. "If you are as devoted as you claim, show that we matter more than Arundel's threats."
Inhaling slowly, Dimitri attempted to call on his Crest. While it did flash into existence, his numbed body didn't react. Only buzzed with excess energy he couldn't act upon.
Dimitri changed tactics, pulling his powers into a singular area as the bird men paused nervously at the vivid blue glow illuminating the darkness.
"He can't move," the bird man who'd spoken before scoffed. "Contin—argh!" The man let out a startled scream as Dimitri twisted and threw his entire weight with both every drop of will and his Crest's might into a punch.
He crashed against the metal table nearby with a crack and crumpled to the ground unconscious as metal and liquid rained down. The force of his swing had also sent Dimitri toppling down with him, a deafening scream leaving his lips as his wounds exploded with agony induced protest.
'Focus,' he told himself as he gasped for breath and mentally forced away the dots in his vision and the bile swelling in his throat, the blood dripping anew from his skin and the liquid trying to push against his Crest's power and leave him immobile once again.
The two remaining men were stunned for but a moment before the flames they'd been using for light quickly darkened into vicious Miasma orbs.
Gritting his teeth, Dimitri snatched a random fallen needle and plunged it into one of their legs. The man howled, swaying and stumbling, accidentally blasting his companion with his spell and sending them both crashing against opposite walls.
There was a moment of silence save for Dimitri's laboured panting before he powered his Crest once more and sent energy back to his arms.
His wounds and the strange liquid were working in tandem to slow him down. His un-Crest powered legs dragged deadened behind him as he torturously clawed his way towards the open doors.
The slow and meaneal task seemed to take an eternity, and by the time Dimitri reached the doorway his bangs had been slicked to his forehead with precipitation from both exertion and agony.
He would never make it crawling. That poison, he needed to be rid of it but with no cure and no way to know when it would wear off…
There was a hum and whir before one by one, the strange lights returned.
Dimitri gasped. No, no, no, no—
He struggled forward with everything he had, only for the doors to make their familiar twinkling noise and slam shut.
He stared at the door numbly for a few moments before with a scream of frustration he slammed his forehead against the hard metal.
His ghosts sneered at him as failure sank deep into Dimitri's chest, failure that mutated into dread when the doors hissed opened up and Arundel with two other men stood above him.
He surveyed the room with narrowed eyes before returning his glare to Dimitri. "I thought I heard screaming. Gentleman, it would seem King Dimitri is in need of a memory refresher after all."
The dread twisted into sheer and utter terror.
The bird men hauled Dimitri up roughly before slamming him back against the hard metal bed, ignoring his yells and snarls of protest. Any use his Crest could do was immediately stripped away as another dose of body numbing venom was jammed into his system.
"I'm sorry," Dimitri gasped as the bird men stepped back and Arundel strode forward with the bloody scalpel in hand. "I'm sorry! Please, please I beg of you! I'll remember, I'll remember!"
Arundel slammed a hand atop Dimitri's forehead, causing his head to bash against the table before adjusting his grip to clutch at Dimitri's face. He then used his index finger to pull at the skin beneath his left eye.
"Yes, I dare say you will," he began, placing the scalpel lightly atop the delicate pink flesh of Dimitri's inner lid. "Everytime you look in the mirror."
How could he fight properly without both his eyes? How could he avenge his loved ones? How could he be of any use to El? To Faerghus?
Dimitri's neck ached in a futile effort to pull his face away. But Arundel's grip was too snug and his body too weak and—
"I'll never escape again," he said desperately. "I'll never escape again. I'll never—I promise, I promise."
"I see why Kronya enjoys this so much," Arundel mused as he tapped the sharp object rhythmically against the pulled skin and Dimitri began hyperventilating.
"Please don't do this," he whispered feverishly, calling desperately for his Crest. And while it glowed, no power flowed through him. "I…I'm sorry."
"Don't fret; I'm not a butcher like she is," Arundel said as he slid the knife beneath his eye. "I despise the blood, you see."
Dimitri's ghosts were glaring harder now, judgment clear in the set of their mouths and the way the sharpness in their eyes. How could he help them now? How could he ever help them?
"No," Dimitri whimpered, eyes brimming with tears. "Don't—Arundel, please—!"
Dimitri's world became naught but agonizing red and echoing screams.
-o0o-
Edelgard rapped at the tall wood doors before crossing her arms behind her back and waiting.
"Your Majesty," Hubert said from her side. "I don't believe you should waste your time."
"She would be a valuable asset to the war effort."
"She is an opera singer," Hubert ground out. "Talented with magic, certainly, but a warrior she is not."
"I disagree," Edelgard simply, nodding her head in acknowledgment as two civilian women passed by after delivering brief curtsies and a murmur of "Your Majesty."
The look of apprehension in their gaze wasn't lost on her, nor was the rapid fire whispering they partook in as they left the immediate vicinity of Hubert's warning glower and the guards' watchful gazes.
She'd been recruiting young able bodied people to add to her army briefly after the horrible failure that was the Garreg Mach Monastery siege. Many were either worried or excitedly anticipating that they would be next, and many more had much to say about it both good and bad. No doubt this clear attempt at recruiting an opera singer would add plenty of speculation for the rumour mill.
"If I may speak freely?"
"Always, Hubert."
"I…know you've been in desire of—"
The door opened, and a young girl appeared. As soon as she laid eyes on Edelgard, Hubert, and their entourage of guards she snickered and looked over her shoulder to call, "Aye, 'Thea! Your serial sender came to see ya!"
Serial sender? Edelgard frowned defensively.
She hasn't sent that many letters, only two and one was in the form of a casual letter meant for well…people who weren't formal with one another. Friends. Maybe.
"That is Empress Edelgard von Hresvelg to you," Hubert said firmly, giving the girl a dissatisfied glare.
"Mhm," the girl said carelessly, placing a pipe between her lips. "Come in, I guess."
Edelgard obliged, and she, Hubert, and her guards strode into the private area of the theatre. Groups of girls leaning against bedroom doors or pausing in the middle of script recitals watched them stride past with varying reactions. Some smiled and paid their dues, others did so grudgingly while barely veiled disdain darkened their gazes.
The girl knocked on the door and waited with crossed arms and a hip sticking stance. A moment later, a familiar brunette beauty opened the door wearing a simple sundress, her brown locks pulled into a high ponytail and green eyes possessing none of the warmth Edelgard remembered.
Still, Edelgard smiled. "Dorothea. I began to fear you weren't here, seeing as how my letters were left unresponded to."
Dorothea smiled back, but it was sharp and unfriendly. "Hm. And I suppose you, with all your fancy vocabulary don't know the meaning of the word 'hint.'"
A hush fell over the area, and the girl who had led them here whistled.
Edelgard cleared her throat. "May we talk? Privately?"
Dorothea paused before nodding and stepping aside. As Edelgard entered, she noticed how…empty it looked. No posters or vanity utensils, her drawers were open and empty as well. Then she noticed the open suitcases.
"You're leaving?" Edelgard asked in shock.
"Well not anymore," she said with crossed arms. "I had a bit of a panicked break down after your lovely speech, ran all the way here and rambled to myself saying things like, 'oh great! The crazy Church lady was right and Edelgard actually wants a war! Who would've thought?'" She threw her hands up and strode over to the bed to plop onto it. "Then I started packing but oh wait! Where am I going to go? The Church wants your head and Leicester is allied with them, Brigid is allied with Adrestia who wants to suddenly rule the world now, and Faerghus thinks you stole their King so they're frothing at the mouth for your head too!
"I just know that any day now, this whole opera house will go up in flames, so having everything I own packed up and ready to go seems like a good idea, no?" She inhaled sharply and glared at the wall as she blinked frustrated tears and shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe my old place by the town square isn't occupied by another orphan."
Edelgard blinked rapidly in shock. "Old place by—Dorothea?"
"What are you here for, Edelgard?" Dorothea asked coldly.
Edelgard hesitated before sitting beside her on the bed stripped of its sheets. "I wanted to see you."
"Hmph."
"And…to see if you wanted to join my war efforts," she admitted after.
"Well congrats," Dorothea said mirthlessly. "You saw me and you will now have my answer, 'hell fucking no.'" She stood sharply from the bed and turned to Edelgard with her hands on her hips. "Are you done?"
Edelgard hesitated, wringing her hands before asking, "May I ask why you're so opposed? Is it your fear of homelessness? Because if so—"
"I could be the richest woman in Fódlan with a mansion cloaked in every defence spell and guarded by the most powerful people in history and I would still say no."
"Then why? Only good can come out of this war, Dorothea."
Dorothea scoffed. "Oh? Let's see, more orphans, loss of homes, widows, millions of dead—"
"Think of the future," Edelgard pressed firmly. "A better world where corrupt nobles can no longer—"
"Look in the mirror," Dorothea snapped. "You really think you're better than them?"
Edelgard tensed briefly at the sharp words before straightening and confidently stating, "Yes."
"You are starting a war with no thought to how it will affect people like me," Dorothea said, stepping directly in front of her. "You are going to throw soldiers, good men and women and children to their deaths because of some utopian daydream you had one day!"
"It is only a dream if I do not act upon it," Edelgard snapped back. "I want what's best for my people, Dorothea. You included and perhaps you can't see as far as I—"
"What if you lose?" Dorothea said. "What if Faerghus crushes you? Or The Church? What then? Why the blood and the flames and the orphans, what then?"
"I will not lose."
"You don't know that, Edelgard, you don't."
"If I don't believe in myself, nobody else will."
"Belief does jack all, Edelgard!" Dorothea barked with a stomp of her foot. "Tangible things do, tangible things like deadly weapons and corpses and fire and…and nowhere to go because the whole world is roped into a goddamn war where people like me die for the whims of people like you."
She turned away from her then, running a frustrated hand down her face before slamming her palms against the vanity and glaring at her reflection in the mirror. "At least be honest with what you want."
"I am."
"Right. Which is why you want to conquer the content instead of fixing things here like a sane person."
"I don't have time to do things the 'sane way,'" Edelgard sneered. "The people of Fódlan have suffered enough under Rhea's tyranny and if you would just let me explain—"
"I'll give you this much," Dorothea said, glaring at Edelgard over her shoulder. "At least you have the grace to disguise your land grabbing and civillain killing as a grand service to the people here and in Faergus and Leicster who didn't fucking ask for you twisted idea of help."
Edelgard narrowed her eyes before holding her hands up. "Fine. You've given me your answer, and I will accept it." She strode towards the door and paused. "But…if you change your mind—"
"Don't worry, Edie. I won't."
The disappointing day didn't end there.
As soon as she'd gotten back to the back palace, she'd been handed a letter. She could tell by the seal that it was from Lindhart, and if that wasn't enough to clue her in to the sender, the letter's contents certainly did.
Okay. Goodbye.
That was it. The rest of the page was completely blank, and enclosed in the envelope was one other thing—a resignation letter.
She'd sent him a similar one to that of Ferdinand's—aid her in her efforts or step aside by relinquishing your title. She shouldn't have been surprised that he'd chosen the latter.
As she left her study that evening to retire for an early, low-morale rest, she found a gift box atop the crimson sheets.
Frowning, she stepped back out of the room and asked the men standing guard, "Has anyone come in here?"
They both said, "No, Your Majesty," simultaneously.
Someone must've warped it in, then. "Fetch Hubert," she told one firmly, and he bowed before leaving immediately.
Reentering the room, Edelgard eyed the box suspiciously. Was it a box of disease from a disgruntled citizen? An illusion spelled to explode and harm her the moment she touched it? There had to be malicious intent with its delivery as there would be no fear in putting it through the mail to be checked if it were something innocent like chocolates or perfume.
"Lady Edelgard? Is something wrong?" Hubert said urgently the moment he strode into the room, magic crackling around his form.
"I assume you didn't leave this?"
"No," Hubert said with a narrowed eye as he went up to the box and hovered a glowing hand over the object. "There are no harmful spells but…wait one moment." He lifted a tag tied to the ribbon and squinted at the words. "Love…Dima?"
Edelgard's blood ran cold.
She immediately surged forward and tore the lid off the box, pressing her hands against her mouth to stop the automatic surge of stomach fluids from leaving her mouth.
An eye. A single bright blue eye. A single half of a pair that had been filled with vivacious light and ever-burning flame, that belonged to a boy who was alive because the blood was fresh and that meant he really was strapped to a table screaming and crying and sobbing just like her and Rowen and Sebastian and Johnny and—
Arundel, or Cornelia, or Kronya, or whichever sick bastard gouged his eye out and put it here had given her the confirmation she'd craved for days. And now that she had it she wanted to scream, to fall to her knees and scream and curse the Goddess and sob and sob and sob—
But instead she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, servants quickly skirting out of the way as they were lashed with the fiery energy of her rage.
She barely restrained herself from violently banging on the door as she reached Arundel's door. But, angry or not, she would not carry herself like a petulant child.
"Come in," drawled a voice, clearly possessed by a smiling individual.
Edelgard swallowed her rage down again before opening the door and closing it behind her. "Where is he?"
"On his way to Faerghus now, hopefully," Arundel said casually as he flipped a page in the book he was reading as he lay comfortably beneath the covers. "Anything else, niece?"
"You…" she seethed, shaking as she stormed towards him. "How long? How long did it take to revive him?"
"Three days ago, so around two weeks. It helped that his corpse was fresh," Arundel shrugged. "It took several more hours before he could utter a sentence that wasn't an incredibly descriptive dark promise, however."
"And when did…" she squeezed the headboard. "When did you start…?" She couldn't say it. The inner little girl within her curled up and shuddered, and Arundel knowingly smirked.
"Oh, the moment the conversation was over. Just to soften him, make him more complacent, see. The ah…gift was taken when he went back on his word to behave himself."
Defiant, stubborn Dimitri who'd declared his limbs worth nothing to her life and had thrown himself out a dorm window had been so scared, so badly in pain that he'd bowed down to a man he'd been searching to kill for four years. And then when he'd tried to fight back, permanently lost a physical part of himself.
She inhaled sharply, swallowing the sob threatening to leave her and blinking her eyes to keep the tears at bay.
Three days. It had only taken three days to…
"What have you done?" She whispered furiously. "What have you done to him?"
"Why so angry?" Arundel questioned. "It was either him or you if you remember."
Because Dimitri was dead and for all she knew he would stay dead and not feel a thing, because Fódlan needed her because she didn't want to ever again feel those—
"No," Edelgard snarled, rounding the bed. "No!" She snatched the book from Arundel's hands and flung it across the room. He frowned in annoyance as she continued, "You do not get to throw this back on me! You did this! You broke him!"
"You asked for this, foolish girl," Arundel huffed. "You wanted him back, pleaded for him to return to you, and handed him over to us with the least resistance. He was too filled with rage to rationally decide on an alliance with us so we had to wear him down. What did you think would happen?"
Edelgard closed her eyes and worked on regaining her breathing while Arundel continued, "There's a silver lining for you in this too, niece don't fret. I want you to go to him."
Edelgard's eyes snapped open and she sucked in a sharp breath. "What?"
"What better way to get the people on our side than a tearful reunion?" Arundel smiled. "The gift wasn't simply to remind you of both your places, there's a speech in there. Give it a look after you do what you want with the eye. Sleep with it like a plush if you'd like."
Edelgard gritted her teeth. "You are revolting."
"You are childish," Arundel drawled as he slipped from his bed to retrieve his book. "And you've made me lose my page. Be gone before you irritate me further."
Giving him one last glare, Edelgard stormed out of the room, knowing she wouldn't make it to her room before screaming or crying or both, she then made a beeline to the gardens.
The fresh air immediately soothed her, and she inhaled and exhaled in relief as the mounting frustrations, disappointment, and grief from the day disappeared with the wind.
Closing her eyes, she sat down on the bench and nodded to herself. Arundel was right, she needed to use this to her advantage and better yet, she would see him again. She would see him again and.
And Edelgard did indeed, in her dreams. Watching Arundel gouge his eye out over and over again, screaming for help she couldn't give him.
AN: Dorthea and Lindhart will eventually come around, however, I felt it would be realistic for them to be pretty opposed to Edelgard, seeing as how they were so anti-war in the game.
ANYway, hope you all enjoyed! Next chapter will NOT take five months to be posted!
Fantasy Fan OUT!