#maybe with an imperator instead of a emperor

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

Preliminary Review: Gladiator (2000)

Warning for spoilers.

New fandom just dropped: Gladiator (2000). It's set in pre-Christian Rome, so it uses ancient Roman mythology (e.g. Elysium) but still it's a compelling and tear-jerking story if you can suspend your disbelief properly.

Yes I like old movies. Yes it's more historical fiction. Yes I am now reading 2001 fanfic that was abandoned in 2004. Yes I post reviews anyway. So?

That movie was amazing. It suspended my disbelief like nothing has in a WHILE. It made me cry, which is tough to do.

In accordance with my recent character study on my top-ranking obsessions, Maximus the main character slots in BEAUTIFULLY but not in a typical way. His devotion and loyalty is to his family, his wife and son (and despite being away in battles for nearly three years, the movie does an amazing job convincing you that these ARE his greatest reasons for living) is his primary motivation. And he loses them. What follows is an astonishing exploration of his mental state following this, from apathy and passivity to simply surviving, to being revitalized in the name of revenge. Through it all is the theme of death - intimately close for a soldier and now gladiator - around every corner and in his thoughts continually as he thinks of his family. They are waiting for him in Elysium. In the end he dies - this is upsetting and distressing, of course, but also the only reasonable way it could have ended. His family was his reason for living. His family was his everything. What point would there be to life afterward?

It's an extremely interesting exploration of the theme that speaks to me; usually it's about a person's values and what they sacrifice for those values, and the level of significance that sacrifice was and what it meant. This time it's about having values (family) and refusing to sacrifice those to (some might think) a higher calling or duty. It's about losing, unwillingly, the things that are valued rather than sacrificing and/or regaining them.

However, Maximus the main character DOES also fit another common theme of my top obsessions: military or at least battle experience, despite the fact that I don't think I feel anything particularly strongly about the fact that a person is battle-hardened. But perhaps the combat experience shows another side to dedication and loyalty: that of risking life. Soldiers have strong force of will and self-control. Perhaps that life is necessary for the denial of self/desires for a higher cause that is inherent in my favorite themes. Thoughts to ponder.

[not-so-allegiant-general]

Ancient History @kyluxshortshorts

Ave, Imperator: Morituri te salutant

Ave, Imperator!

Consul Hux sighed, fixing his purple toga and picked cup of wine from the table. He wouldn't be here if not a need to stay on Emperor Snoke good side. Old man loved fights recently, Hux despised them but was willing to sacrifice his afternoon, to gain some approval.

"And who's that?" He murmured looking at young gladiator." I've never seen him before."

"His name is Ren, Domine. I believe he was brought by Consul Pryde after his last campaign." Hux grimaced. Pryde. This old, annoying rat. "They say that he was the greatest fighter among his people" Hux watched Ren carefully, he was indeed mesmerizing. What a specimen. His opponents didn't stood a chance. Hux stood up after the fight and left his place going down the stairs. His people followed him like shadows, with blades ready to protect their precious master. He found Ren quite quickly.

"You watched me." Ren said. His voice was rough and curious. Hux tilted his head amused. One of his guards hit Ren with the hilt of a sword.

"You are talking to the citizen and Consul of Rome, dog! You will adress him Dominus and won't speak without being asked!"

Hux smiled and waved at his people

"Leave us." They obeyed without a word. "You fight like a man who have nothing to lose." Ren grinned. He looked like a wolf ready to jump at his prey.

"You liked the show didn't you.? I felt your eyes on me." Ren stood up and got closer. Hux didn't back off. "I've seen this sort of look before. Hungry, starved. Your want is leaking from your eyes, Consul. They scream with desire. I could have you against any wall here and you wouldn't even protest that munch about it, right? Or would you beg me for more? Would you plead like a lowly whore you are?" Hux clenched material of this toga to suppress the shiver. He breathed out slowly and gritted his teeth. Ren smirked.

"You filthy, … " Hux hissed.

"Gladiator Ren." Consul quickly took a step back hearing as the soldier entered "Emperor wants to see you." He exited.

"He will offer you gold and women. I advise you to accept it." Hux said to Ren regaining his composure.

"For killing these rats?"

"Yes." Ren nodded looking quite amused and took a step, then he froze for a moment and looked at Hux.

"Who do i have to kill to get you instead? Would you let me rip this" he touched purple toga and Hux held his breath overwhelmed "pretty thing off you if I killed the other purple clown? The one that thinks he defeated me? Pryde?"

Hux's breath hitched "Or maybe i should give you even more? Would you let me have you if i gave you head of the Emperor." Ren smiled watching his face carefully and laughed going to the stairs, leaving Consul alone with the humiliating truth.

Ren didn’t need to kill anyone. Hux would let Ren have him anyway, everywhere and anytime.

Preferably tonight.

[ragequeen94]

An absolute insane stream of consciousness about ghost and everything else...

Been thinking about the title "Emeritus"....

It has meaning:

- a person retired from professional life but permitted to retain as an honorary title the rank of the last office held.

....Now I'm assuming the ministry works how the actual catholic church works and the choose a name. Like when your picked to be pope you pick a biblical name instead of your real name....

Their real names being... primo, secondo, etc.... and in assuming those are first names unless Nihil was able to find women with numerical last names IN ORDER all willing to having his satanic church bastards. Which for him seems possible but I digress.

It just seems like an interesting choice of title. (Especially for a wild little sweed) and what he was trying to say... perhaps just that they are "past their prime"? They have the title only because they are old?

Also thinking about the usage of "bloodline"... now we all think it's because of Nihil and his breeding fetish. Which may be true. But I'd like to bring up the secondo Papaganda where the "special ghoul" is talking about Secondo and the bloodline...

We can pretend that in this universe, those characters are... real? Easy. Or perhaps they are all "choosen" perhaps the bloodline actually being more children chosen by darkness? Or the devil? Now the three confirmed brothers and now also Copia are all Nihil children, we are about to get Papa V... and is realistic to believe it's Copias twin (also because his name is literally copy in italian) but a copy of who? The only other character could be .... Father Jim??

I'm 100% sure that his name was picked for this reason... but is he being dethroned? Is he dethroning?? We don't know much besides that he's kind of a shit priest and uses cum as hair gell....

And that all other Papas have been dethroned as well for also not being good at their jobs. Interesting. Maybe a comment on hypocrisy with the satanic church having higher standards for leadership??

Also Copia is Imperator now...

Which literally means commander. But commander only lead armies... they aren't kings or emperors and even Sister Imperator was answering the phone to someone she was respectful and obedient too. (See that one chapter when nihil was on the toilet)... I'm pretty sure it wasn't Psaltarian.... but what does that name mean??

My best guess is either someone who documents OR

Which is basically a kinda early guitar.... so hes... the band manager??

I don't think he's running the church. So there are way more characters and story to uncover.

What I can say I at this point... we know absolutely nothing and nothing makes sense.

Fuckin... since we know copia is Imperator and Nihils kid and he's the youngest... and Secondo and Terzo are 3 months apart and can't have the same mother.... Nihil had had 3 children with a minimum of 2 other women already by the time he met Imperator.

And let's pretend everything we see in the MV and the chapters is canon legit. Nihil was a little unsure of what was going on at the party... but that doesn't mean he wasn't already part of the church. We know that Ghost is just the public relations section of the ministry. Not THE MINISTRY... they are important but one one piece. They are the face or figure head. Which is pretty much said word for word. PAPA STILL ANSWERS TO A HIGHER POWER. Who or what we don't know.

Nihil and his father (and his fathers father, his father... his father... hid father's father's father... his father) are all part of the bloodline. All this means is that they are related or choosen by... the devil? That Dracula and the Canadian guy who wrote "Hallelujah" are related??

Or that all of these characters/people are entertainers.

Is the ministry just a record label? Each papa a musician trying to make it?? It's all a metaphor for stardom?? Probably.

Basically papa nihil could have easily been part of the church before he met Imperator. She just got him involved in the ghost project (her project by the sound of it). Then when it fell through got nihils kids involved... cause... why. We don't know.

We have Nihil who is... nothing.

Psaltarian that... writer? Manager?

Imperator the commander.

Defroque the cum guzzling priest.

And the Papas who are all already passed their prime?? but they picked the name.

But nihil wasn't an Emeritus.

Unless nihil was the name he picked and we don't even know his name... and he named his kidd first second and third cause he thought it was funny.

Also it's 100% that Imperator named Copia.

Is he a copy of his twin (or just a copy in general) or is he a copy of his father? Or of her????

Please dear fucking unholy shit can someone hyperfixate with me....

[tgrailwar-zero]

Can we taste the cake that we’re eating?

It's sweet. Not bad at all.

You can tell that the choice of cake fell into the trap of 'they didn't know what your preferences were, so they chose vanilla to be safe'.

Once you finished the cake, you chose to knock on the door to let the Valkyrie know you were ready to go.

It was... an awkward walk. You were getting the shieldmaiden wasn't one for small-talk, but it seemed your little outburst had caused her to absolutely clamp her mouth shut in your presence.

...So, quietly you walked down the hallways, before being shown a door.

You were guided to a rest area, where your Servants were… well, resting. They were scattered around the room, though before you could approach any of them, your attention was quickly commandeered to the young woman in crimson approaching.

LUCIUS(?): "Ah, there you are~ So, you've finally come down in person, have you? That makes me very happy. So..."

Despite her friendly tone, you felt a chill run down your spine.

LUCIUS(?): "What do you have to say for yourselves, you pack of buffoons!?"

Ah.

NERO: "Do you know who you've wronged? Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus! My poor, amnesiac self asks for help, and you wrench her into that horrid form in order to exploit her for power, betray her, explode her, and then reap naught but praise for it- leaving me to die as a scapegoated blackguard!"

Well. When she put it that way... it didn't sound great.

NERO: "I'd have thrown you off a roof myself! You gaggle of lemures, I should cast a spell of castration on you! Luckily for you, Simon Magus did not teach me that spell!"

Despite her petite form and delicate attire, her voice filled the entire room with echoing aplomb. You were certain that everyone in the building could at least tell that something was happening in here.

NERO: "But the nerve! After killing me you shove me away in your inventory as a lost item that you'll handle 'eventually'! I am a priority! At any moment! The second you had access to your bag, my summoning should have been the first thing you did! But instead, you gallivant and parade your self-caused destruction over me, indulging yourselves! And as such, I used my imperial authority to summon myself!"

NERO: "Ah, but even if I wasn't imperative to you all, I have such a kind heart as an imperator, you see? If this were Rome, the punishments for acting against an emperor would be much graver, but here I'm an idol, and an idol mustn't browbeat her beloved followers so heavily, yes?"

You were already being browbeaten pretty badly, but it didn't exactly seem wise to point that out right now.

…And none of the Servants seemed keen on stopping her either. So much for 'loyal'.

But, what? 'Followers'?

NERO: "Listen well, you ensemble of lemmings! From henceforth, you are my Ensemble! Understood?!"

Ah.

That did seem a bit bold at the moment--

NERO: "What a wonderful idea! My ensemble, my debtors, my followers, my pupils! You need guidance, and I suppose I can let you under my wing! We're going to be spending a lot of time together, so I may as well teach you some values as magi and Masters! Accepted!"

...Maybe this is what CONSTANTINE meant by 'making a deal with the devil'?

[blood-darkened-moon]

Alfred, Alexia, and the Dragonfly

The infamous video of Alfred and Alexia torturing a dragonfly and feeding it to the ants can be found twice on Rockfort Island. The first time, you see it in the room with the Lugers and then again in Alfred’s office as the startup of his PC. Of course, it has a deeply person meaning to Alfred. We know about his obsession with his sister, and Alexia is in there as well. Maybe the video is the only one with her or the last one that was taken before her cryogenic sleep. It makes sense that Alfred would hold dear something like this. But is it just about Alexia, or is there more to it? After all, we even have to watch it twice.

The twins do not talk the entire time and barely interact during the video. The only noteworthy interaction happens during the last scene, in which Alfred and Alexia share a knowing gaze. The way they look at each other makes it clear that there is more to the whole scene than what meets the eye. It had a deeper meaning, which only they could understand. A secret they share with each other. Words are not necessary.

When I first played Code Veronica X, I assumed the video mainly existed to show the cruel and twisted nature of the twins, while it also foreshadowed what Alfred would become. But after replaying the game last year, I changed my opinion. The video isn’t about Alfred and Alexia’s general cruelty or torturing of defenseless creatures. The content represents something more personal to them - their revenge on Alexander.

It was never said when the video was recorded, but the twins aren’t small children anymore. Based only on their appearance, I would estimate them to be between 10 and 12 years old. Now, considering the content of the video, I think it was recorded after Alfred discovered the truth about their origin and after they came up with a revenge plan as the earliest possible date. However, it is more likely that they had already executed their plan some time before.

Let’s take a closer look. First of all, the visual language. The ants symbolize Alfred and Alexia. Alexia sees herself as an ant queen and refers to Alfred as a soldier ant. The dragonfly is Alexander. It is more obvious for Alexia’s third form, but Alexander’s mutated form resembles a dragonfly too. He has three appendages on his back, similarly arranged like three of four wings of a dragonfly. Additionally, these appendages are long and thin, like insect legs. In Darkside Chronicles, he even uses them to move around. Also, Alexander’s real legs are bound together with the rug, which makes his lower body look vaguely like the elongated abdomen of the insect. The belts even give it a segmented appearance.

The last similarity isn’t related to the real animal but to an item. To activate the self-destruct system, you have to assemble a dragonfly key. On the underside of this key is a prominent red jewel in the middle of its thorax, similar to Alexander’s exposed heart.

The dragonfly in the video is rather large. It has a blue abdomen with black markings and a yellow thorax. I tried to find out what dragonfly species we see there and found three possible candidates. One is the green hawker (Aeshna viridis), another is the southern migrant hawker (Aeshna affinis), and the last one is the emperor dragonfly (Anax imperator). (I’m not a dragonfly expert, though. Maybe there are other ones that fit better.)

The abdomens of the green hawker and southern migrant hawker are also blue, the thorax is yellowish-green, and they have black markings on their bodies. The emperor dragonfly has an apple-green thorax rather than a yellow one, but it would fit the other criteria. Other dragonfly species with a similar color palette have either more black markings, differently colored spots on the abdomen, a different body shape, or are too small. In all three cases, only the males have this coloration. The females are green or yellowish green instead of blue. Selecting a male dragonfly specifically could be another reference to Alexander. As for the emperor dragonfly and the southern migrant hawker, contrary to the green hawker, they also inhabit Great Britain, which delivers another connection to Alexander. And while Alexander is, of course, only an earl, not an emperor, an emperor dragonfly could still refer in a wider sense to his peer status.

From left to right: green hawker (male), southern migrant hawker (male), emperor dragonfly (male).

The general events of the video reflect what happened to Alexander. Only Alfred interacts with the dragonfly. He was also the one who initiated the revenge plot after discovering the truth about himself and Alexia, as well as the one who suffered subjectively more under his father. Alexia stays passive the whole time and only watches her brother, while in real life, she is the one who has carried out the experiments, not Alfred. However, even if she does not join her brother here, Alexia still contributes by providing an instrument to execute the allegorical revenge - her ants (and the virus in reality).

Instead of simply killing the insect, Alfred rips out its wings, making it incapable of flying away. Like the dragonfly, Alexander was still alive when he met his fate. The twins tranquilized their father before Alexia injected him with the virus, which caused his transformation. Afterward, Alexander’s confinement continued, and he was chained for years in agony, probably awaiting his death if he was still capable of having coherent thoughts.

The dragonfly’s death is not in vain. Feeding the insect to the ants serves a purpose. The ants can feast on it, and the colony can grow. Alexander’s life wasn’t wasted either. Alexia directed Alfred’s revenge plans from simply killing their father to using him for research purposes. Their “useless father” could contribute for once to Alexia’s research and the Ashford family. Even though the experiment was a failure, Alexia was still able to use the data she required from it for her benefit.

Why all the effort with the cryptic symbolism? Alexander was a terrible father. Probably not intentional, but this isn’t an excuse. He took the childhood of the twins for the sake of his own ambitions. He used Alexia to fulfill what he could not achieve and disregarded Alfred for not being as intelligent as his sister. Finding out that they were the result of a genetic experiment was the final straw, especially for Alfred. Their father then got what he deserved, according to them. Alfred hated Alexander with a passion. It must have been a great feeling to get rid of him, and to celebrate it, he (maybe Alexia too) wanted a keepsake. Direct photos or videos of their father were out of the question. Alfred even wrote in his diary that they have to be careful so that Harman (their butler) doesn’t discover what has happened to Alexander. The dragonfly video works well. It is cryptic enough that no one could understand its meaning without more background knowledge. People who see it randomly would assume it is a disturbing and slightly eerie home video. Alfred and Alexia, on the other hand, know exactly what it is about. It’s so important to Alfred because it does not only show Alexia but also their victory over Alexander. The insects are nothing more than involuntary actors. The real dragonfly and what is happening to it is secondary. The symbolic meaning behind the dragonfly’s death struggle holds significance.

Some notes as a closure that didn’t fit in the rest of the text: What makes the video so creepy, except for the circumstances you find it in, is the twins’ acting. Without them and out of context, the dragonfly video wouldn’t even be that unsettling if you consider some facts. The video was recorded in the Antarctic base. Dragonflies do not inhabit Antarctica. This means the dragonfly was bred there. The twins did not randomly catch it for the purpose of torture. What’s the purpose of breeding dragonflies? I assume it’s for (virus) research. We know that Umbrella performed experiments on other invertebrates. So, if dragonflies are bred in the lab anyway, why not use some as a protein source for the ants as well? More common insects for feeding ants would be mealworms and meal beetles, house crickets, flies and fly larvae, roaches, and plant lice, though. Also, dragonflies are predators and attack everything they can overpower, including other dragonflies. And unlike ants, they can fly. It makes sense to remove the wings first to prevent it from flying away or attacking the ants. Sure, ripping out its wings and not killing it first is still cruel, but at least the ants will take care of this soon.

[wouldbebrit777]

Dune - Frank Herbert

“Arrakis teaches the attitude of the knife - chopping off what's incomplete and saying: 'Now, it's complete because it's ended here.'”

A new power, a new way of life awakens in the known universe. A power of immense might and magnitude, brushing every obstacle aside that would stand against it. It is like a giant, awakening from a slumber where it has gathered its strength for far too long. And yet this new, all-conquering force could not come from a more unlikely place: the desert planet Arrakis, a world like none other.

With “Dune” Frank Herbert has created an unparalleled piece of science fiction that is in many aspects way ahead of the time it was published in, the year 1966. It reads almost exactly like a novel from our times and is in its way an early inspiration to modern authors in its field. Thrilling and intertwined until the end, this novel is a must-read for any fan of the extraterrestrial.

One of the most positive aspects of “Dune” has to be the carefully created universe surrounding the plot that serves as a stage for the epic Herbert has written. A completely new planetary system is introduced wich is being populated by an Imperator, a power hungry feudal class and a greedy spaceflight guild. Therefore the information regarding the general surroundings of the novel is indeed much to understand and this can be very difficult, especially at the beginning of the book. New words and phrases are thrown around for a long time, before the reader can completely make sense of them all. What is positive in this case though is the approach that the book takes: instead of dumping expositional information in a big lump over the readers’ head it tries to convey the aforementioned throughout the flow of the story, adding to the reading comfort.

The characters depicted in the novel are well written and have distinct personalities as well as fixed roles wich make their identification much easier and gives the reader a chance to find an order in the array of names given. What adds to the overall charme of the different personalities is the attribution of memorable characteristics that remain as a constant until the end.

Regarding the main character, Paul Atreides, we agreed that he was also one of the most interesting and unique persons we ever encountered in a novel, for better and for worse. On one hand Paul has been made a very conflicted and faceted character who remains a bit of a mystery to the reader, even until the end of the book. On the other hand Paul has been pushed into the trope of the “chosen one” through wich his character development suffers in a way. Because of this and also frequent time lapses in the plot, Paul’s growth always comes in a very sudden and extreme way, but other characters are also affected by this at times.

What really makes Dune shine though is its portrayal of the planet Arrakis, the desert planet. Seeming to be only a dead rock littered with sand Arrakis slowly opens to the reader's eye and shows a complicated web of life and society. Being something more than one might expect seems to be the main moniker of the dune-filled landscape, just as its complete reliance on the limited water sources, wich in its extremity is an idea that may even be our own future.

Another surprise was the complicated political scheming and plotting happening especially in the first part of the novel. Murder, treason and uncountable lies litter the fields of the high and mighty. Different dukedoms and the almighty Padishah-Emperor struggle for power and of course for the most precious treasure of Arrakis: a spice worth its multiple weight in gold.

So in the end, who will control Arrakis? What is awakening between the shifting dunes of this terrible planet? Who will be in control of the fabled spice of the desert, its greatest treasure? Or maybe the real treasure might be something else after all?

Summary:

+ interesting worldbuilding

+ era-defining sci-fi

+ complex and compelling story

- large array of foreign words

- erratic character development

[languagebraindump]

Modality in languages 

What’s up with that? I mean, sounds too fancy, right? Well, modality allows us to express the 'possibility' of a past, present, or future situation. It helps us convey our desires, the likelihood of a situation, and that something is permissible. In some languages, it is well-developed and standardized (like in English) or like in Polish or Japanese, not so much. 

Another definition that will help us understand things better is ‘displacement.’

In linguistics, displacement is the capability of language to communicate about things that are not immediately present (spatially or temporally). (Wikipedia)

Animals communicate things that are only happening now; in front of their eyes. Human beings can go further than that. We can talk about the past, future, present, alternative past situations, imaginary/unreal situations, etc. 

Modality is a sign of displacement. It helps us express extra information about a verb, for example, whether the verb is possible to happen, how sure I am about the verb to happen, whether it’s a good idea or maybe it is just my guess. AMAZING feature. 

Whenever I ask my students: "What does it mean that a verb is modal?" No one knows. They just learn 1:1 translations. I know, it’s easier that way, and not everyone wants to be a proficient user of a foreign language. But I really believe that adopting that bottom-up approach in learning is so much better and efficient. Let’s start small, let’s define the core meaning first, let’s build a solid foundation on which we can build up our knowledge. 

Modality in English

I’m sharing this with you. It’s from Grammarway 4. Amazing book. It briefly summarizes the CONCEPT of each modal verb.

My biggest issue is that none of that corresponds to the Japanese modality. You just can’t find pairs that would be like must = [Japanese phrase #1]; should = [Japanese phrase #2].  

I'm Polish, and learning English modal verbs was a pain in the ass! (It still is sometimes) Why? Because rather than using one modal verb, let’s say should, to express certain concepts, we use multiple phrases (in Polish). There is a 1:1 translation tho (for should), but depending on the CONTEXT, the SPEAKER, the NUANCE, we can resort to something completely different, a phrase that is 5-words long but conveys the same meaning as should. Why do such a thing? Maybe, I didn’t want to sound super harsh, like a preacher; maybe, I wanted to signal something without coming across as bossy. Lots of reasons. 

I’m studying Japanese in English, and that creates lots of problems sometimes. Polish is similar to Japanese in way more aspects than English. (For example, both belong to high/middle context cultures, which are apparent in language). Unfortunately, there aren’t enough Polish resources to study Japanese. Modality is one of those problems. 

What helped me a lot with learning about modality was: 

reading the situation; analyzing the context;

modal verbs = concepts; 

a modal verb in English = too many phrases in Japanese; 

the choice of a phrase in Japanese is dictated by the speaker's current attitude to a situation. 

Fancy quote #1 

In Japanese linguistics, ‘modality’ is typically defined as the category of linguistic expressions that serve to express the speaker's current attitude to a proposition (Nakau: 1979)

Fancy quote #2

Modality has to do with necessity and possibility. (Kratzer 1981:39)

Fancy quote #3 

The interpretation of natural language sentences is investigated against the backdrop of a set of possible worlds representing any conceivable state of affairs, one of them the actual world.(Kaufmann & Tamura: 2017)

[there are two worlds the current one, and the one that is expressed through modal verbs] 

Four types of modality 

epistemic modality (i.e., expressions that relate to displacement according to what is known or believed, conjectures, guesses) 

epistemic: relating to knowledge or the study of knowledge (Macmillan dictionary)

prioritizing modality (i.e., expressions that characterize what is permitted, required, or desired) 

dynamic modality (relating to what courses of events are compatible with a particular body of facts/ circumstances and/or a subject’s abilities, describing abilities). 

denotic modality (i.e., modal expressions relating to permissions, requirements, and wishes; modal expressions that relate to rules, laws, or regulations of some sort) (Kaufmann & Tamura: 2017）

Expressions of epistemic modality 

～だろう, ～はずだ, ～に違いない, and ～かもしれない are conventionally associated with the domain of knowledge and belief.  

だろう・でしょう・はずだ  express the outcome of an inferential process (Hara 2006). (conclusions; speculations; assumptions) 

に違いない (lit. ‘there is no mistake in’, Narrog 2009:89) suggests that what comes before it is entailed. As in: Spending more than you earn, entails financial problems; Being rich entails the risk of being robbed. 

You must be rich =  お金持ちに違いない (what is implied and could be before this phrase is: seeing your huge house, expensive car, and other luxuries ← these entail richness. You must be rich.) 

かもしれない (lit. ‘can’t know whether’) suggests that whatever comes before it is compatible with what is known. Simply put, it means that the information marked by かもしれない can coexist with what we know. We’re preparing a presentation, and we need more ideas. We’re brainstorming some, and I throw in something marked by かもしれない. I did no harm, and my idea can coexist with other ideas (that kind of feeling). 

There’s definitely more phrases. Check out my cool Deidara post for that. I haven’t included all of them tho.

Prioritizing modality 

I like to think about it as a scale (priority scale). 1 = not important, whatever; 10 = you’ll end up in the pits of hell if you do or do not do something. Some things are super important and some are not. Japanese uses conditional(-like) constructions to express that something is permissible or required in view of the relevant rules or goals. 

Among the expressions that relate to rules, regulations, or laws, goals, and wishes, we can distinguish: (I'd place these expressions between 5 and 10. You need to consider who is the speaker as well. If the emperor tells you that something is てもいい well, THE EMPEROR said that, so it’s 10 and don’t you dare to argue with that.) 

～てもいい （It is good even if you [verb.])

～ではいけない  (If/when [verb/phrase], it can’t go.)

～なければならない・いけない  (‘If I [verb/phrase], it doesn’t become.)

(These are 1- 5. BUT! If Madara used one of these, I’d consider it 10 no matter what, lol)

～ほうがいい; the weaker notion that something is recommendable based on practical considerations (without being outrightly necessary) (lit. ‘the direction is good’).

～べきだ; the formal noun べきだ is semantically similar but tends to involve a notion of moral or social appropriateness, which can be absent from ほうがいい. 

～たらいい; giving advice

Extra: forms expressing wishes such as ～たい; ～てほしい; ～つもりです are also included in the prioritizing modality. Definitely weaker than the abovementioned ones. 

Finally, imperatives (verbal ending ～え/～よ/～ろ) and ～なさい, (used with children and for instructions) as well as ～てください (for polite requests; and ”let’s [verb]” forms, also express notions of prioritizing modality. 

Check out my cool Sakura post for more! 

There’s also a dynamic modality! But I’ll leave it for another day! I’ve already composed posts related to prioritizing modality and epistemic modality. I’m yet to look for some examples of dynamic modality. It’s better that way.

Note: I haven’t included any translations here (should; must, might; etc). I want you to think of these phrases in different categories. Ok, so I’m making an assumption. How sure I am about it? Who is my speaker? Are there any evidence for my assumptions? Instead of looking for 1:1 translation, analyze the context!

References:

https://semanticsarchive.net/Archive/jQ3MTA2Z/kaufmann-tamura-japanese-modality.pdf

[dykerory]

honestly studying roman history again for the first time in a while is a really interesting dovetail with shamefully getting really into star wars as an adult.

like, the descent from republic -> empire clearly takes it's inspiration from ancient Rome and the birth of the empire, which is really interesting because Rome might have been a republic but it was not really ever democratic.

the republic was run by a group of ruling elite, the wealthy and the aristocratic, with the common res publica (literally "the public thing") rarely having a lot or any political leverage (politicians who tended to appeal to the res publica tended to be executed VERY quickly)

In addition, during the republic, Rome was ALREADY an imperial entity. It had conquered all of Italy and Greece, and Caesar was fighting in Gaul (modern day France), and even made expeditions into Britain.

the transition into empire had more to do with the distribution of power amongst the people who already had it- the distinction between "emperor" and "king" was merely an aesthetic one, since Rome had a proud history of toppling monarchs. Instead of rex (king) they had an imperator (general).

maybe that's why i'm so suspicious of the Republic in star wars, because the roman Republic was ludicrously corrupt and undemocratic. the appearance of free will and debate was for those who could afford it. This is all speculation, btw, because this seems too subtle for George and clone wars, while very well written, is ultimately a children's show that needs to have a distinguishable good side and bad side

it also really sheds light on Palpatine as a combined Caesar/Augustus figure. Caesar came to power because of his massive popularity amongst the common people, as well as his troops' loyalty to him as opposed to rome as a state. You kind of see why Sheev needed to manufacture a civil war, because otherwise he has no enemy to make himself look better, and no one to scapegoat when he seizes power and the existing structure of the Republic.

[sepublic]

Something that I do think is very delicate and very good work the Owl House crew is doing is balancing the thematics of when characters actually mess up versus surviving and being scared. Amity is a good example. Amity bulling Willow and the burning of her memories - very bad, with problems happening and the narrative tags her on that. It is distinctly shown as bad. Her not fighting her parents - carefully neutral. It's not a good thing but it's not a moral failing.

I think that same treatment might have also happened with Lilith actually. Her cursing Eda, nearly killing Luz and general not being a good person? When did she actually succeed at anything this season? But her attempting to hide her betrayal from Belos? Lilith is a coward so it's not a good thing - but in contrast to how that fed into Eda's curse and everything else... Nothing additional is added on to events for the cowardice. Just the already present ramifications of the betrayal Nothing more

-

           It ties into yet another major theme of this show; About how the system can be incredibly skewed towards people, and sets individuals and groups at each other’s throats just to survive! Indeed, a lot of people ARE forced, or at least encouraged and enabled, to do terrible things just to get through in life… Lilith did claim that she and Eda came from humble beginnings- And given how presitigious the Emperor’s Coven is framed, membership there could be seen as a means of escaping poverty for some!

           Of course, individual accountability, as I’ve said before- It IS a thing, and even if you had reasons and the system was definitely enabling you… You’re still guilty, and one must acknowledge this! Amity acknowledges, maturely, that she was too harsh to Willow… But unfortunately, she’s a bit too harsh when she blames herself for not outright defying her parents, like she’s not a little kid who’s desperately trying to survive abuse!

           It leads into this question of where you draw the line, of someone just trying to survive and doing the most reasonable, pragmatic thing… And when even if they WERE doing what was best for them, they still screwed someone over and hurt them? Even if someone were to cross that line… Well, it doesn’t ALWAYS have to be impossible to fix things, or at least make them better! We see that with Lilith…

           And it gets to this theme of addressing the systemic cause and root of an issue! That sure, these people are still to blame… But in the end, punishing them isn’t productive, and while getting them to change their behavior helps; More people are gonna keep doing bad things if the system is still around! That in the end, it’s everybody’s top priority to dismantle an inherently oppressive and corrupt system! THAT is the main target, that’s the source of it all; And once you take it out, you can properly focus on mending those who HAVE been hurt and/or encouraged by the system… Without having to worry about more issues coming, further down the line.

           It’s kind of like how Luz is someone who gets to the ‘root’ (ba-dum tsss) of the issue between Amity and Willow, instead of just letting Amity speedrun through the damage and going back to how things adversarially, or at least neutrally and painfully, were- Luz says NO, we’re discussing why you and Willow severed ties, and for both your sakes, we’re confronting this! Even if you won’t be friends again, it’s still going to be better than what’s been going on beforehand… And it’ll probably mean that you won’t hurt other people for similar reasons, and Willow herself won’t be in as much pain!

           In contrast, Lilith is a character who doesn’t tackle the root cause of an issue… She instead focuses on symptomatic things because that’s easier for her! She doesn’t really consider why she cursed Eda, or at least tackle the cause of this, her own insecurity… Instead, Lilith just keeps deprecating herself! She doesn’t consider the root cause of Eda being distant with her, Lilith just focuses on the fact that Eda IS and tries to incentivize her sister to join the Emperor’s Coven, without actually reflecting on her support for such a corrupt group!

           But as you said; While Lilith is definitely to blame for a LOT, the Coven System isn’t exactly helping issues either, and laid the foundations for her sins. And sometimes, the way the system is set up… You can’twin, it’s a lose-lose scenario. No matter which Magic Track you choose, you’re still losing most of your magic; If you choose to be a Wild Witch and embrace free magic and individuality, you’re also persecuted! And if you join the Emperor’s Coven, you become a corrupt enforcer and a covenscout!

           The most people can do is just… Lose as little as possible. Minimize losses. That’s what Luz and the others did in the Season Finale, right? Because in the end… They lost a lot of things! They lost Luz’s way back home and her contact with her mother… They lost all of Eda’s magic, and most of Lilith’s! Luz says it herself, she lost… But then, she may as well ensure that while her own losses are minimized, Belos’ are maximized. If Luz can’t win, she may as well try to take the system down with her. Sometimes you can’t always ask for more, sometimes you just have to hold onto what you have, and appreciate it… And Luz is someone who already does this anyway, so it hurts to see this happen to her!

           With Lilith, it’s a bit more karmic as she still needed to address her support of Belos and his corruption; But even then, it’s worth noting that openly defying the Emperor himself has a lot of consequences that she’s intimately aware of. Even if you’re critical of someone for doing bad things to survive, in the end, sometimes you just don’t want them to keep them suffering… Because wasn’t suffering the reason why so many people did so many terrible things? Tearing down what others have or gained isn’t productive, but building things up IS…

           Of course, sometimes- The only thing to do is tear down! Specifically, the corrupt system that caused all of this… Whether Belos gets to survive and change for the better is irrelevant for now, because the Coven System hasto go! There is no keeping it around, and maybe there IS making it better, as Lilith may have aimed to do… But really, the only way to improve upon the Coven System is to delete it entirely, or reform it well past recognition!

           In the end, it’s for the best of a person to tackle their own issues; But sometimes, you just can’t bear to be too harsh or critical on them, for not being their absolute best! Sometimes a person not hurting others is enough… And it’s why people like Luz, who are so productive, can help people! Luz recognizes a problem and KNOWS it’s bad and treats it as such, and is intent on keeping it from ever happening again… But she also recognizes that holding a grudge isn’t necessarily going to make things better!

          Sometimes you have to focus on what you DID manage to at least do, or not do (such as not hurting someone). Give yourself some space to breathe, because even if what happened was bad, you need to at least give yourself a little credit because you’re just trying to survive in a system that’s skewed against you! And once you’ve caught your breath… As we see with encouragement from people like Luz; THEN you can focus on improving things! Every little step and bit of progress helps, don’t be TOO critical for not immediately fixing things, or doing what others have done.

          As long as you make the intent and effort to be better or at least stop doing worse, and then work from there… It’s good. Because sometimes, you can’t make things better, and can’t improve on them, nor hold onto what you already have… Sometimes, all you can do, as seen with Amity and how she handled Willow in the past- Is try to minimize your losses. And know that while what happened is bad, it’s important not to be too critical of oneself, and to ultimately focus energy into eventually fixing things, or at least finding an opportunity to do so… Or again, managing to salvage and protect what you DO have; Which is imperative for Amity, as she really needed to learn to at least protect her own sense of self-worth.

           Sometimes, all you can ask of yourself or a person, is to survive… And while what happened was indeed objectively bad, maybe the person themselves isn’t too terrible… Or at least, there’s room for understanding, and using that understanding to tackle the root cause of the issue, even if that understanding won’t necessarily lead to forgiveness. Mostly, it’s better to just focus on what productive things you can do- And when the chance comes to make things better, as seen with Lilith, or Amity… You better take it, because you don’t know if another chance is ever coming around!

          You’d better take that chance, if you really DO feel bad about what happened, even if you did ‘have no other choice’, because that means instead of beating yourself up or trying to reset what can’t be undone, you’re instead focused on preventing more incidents and tragedies from coming! And in the end… Is that not enough, or at least all you can do? Just as Eda can’t repair or undo her trauma in life, nor seize that education she deserved… The least she can do is ensure that people like Luz at least get to have that missed opportunity!

          If you can’t help yourself, you may as well help somebody else…! Eda or the Bat Queen can’t erase what was done to them, but they can at least pave the road so others later down the line can have something better, and never experience what they had to suffer. It’s just how Luz is someone who can’t undo her past ostracization from society; But she can work to change the system so that nobody else has to feel alone, nor left out! It’s because she went through terrible things that she’s so insistent on others being excluded from such experiences, and it goes to show how Luz really DID learn from what happened- Even if she shouldn’t have gone through it to begin with! Really, you just gotta work with what you have, even if it’s not ideal.

[2lim3rz]

Lord of the Night, Why I Love It And Why I Connect To It [Super Long]

To Preface This: Spoilers. So much spoilers. Also rambling tangents.

Aka oops, 1441 words lol

You’re first started off with the image if a primal man. A feral man. Zso Sahaal is hardly human in the first chapter as he goes buckass wild on the thieves that stole the Corona Nox. Already, I was sucked into a new world. A world about a man who just wants his inheritance. Who lives in the past even when he knows he’s in the future. The world of Zso Sahaal, brutal, cunning, and merciless in his killings. All you know is that someone close to him was dead and that xenos took the Corona Nox from him.

And then you get to Mita Ashlyn, a psyker meditating in her cell where she foresees [well, really sees the past 2 hours] of some vague vision. You learn she’s pretty stalwart in her ways from the get-go and had a very accomplished, daresay even comfortable for an interrogator, with her previous master before she was and Mita was picked up by Inquisitor Kaustus. An Ordo Xenos Inquisitor with a very good reputation who seems to had odd mood swings. Chillingly cold one moment and smiling the next. His soul, to Mita’s pov, is a locked off and cold lantern

She assumes it’s just because of tricks the Ordo has taught him, despite the odd flashes of thought and emotion she gains sometimes. Of course, Mita doesn’t get along with Kaustus too well. She’s mocked by him even and her only closest companion is an Abhuman named Cog. Cog reminds me a lot of Lonnie from Of Mice and Men, simple and just wanting to live his best life. I love Cog. And though Mita treats him almost like a dog, she cares about him.

Of course, the story goes on and I’ma talk about Zso Sahaal first. Zso Sahaal meets Pahvulti [Love the lil shit] and eventually meets a sort of clan of VERY devout to the Emperor people called the Shadowkin after he destroys the Glacier Rats’ hideaway. They’re sneaky and not very well liked in the Underhive, but they don’t quite care. Of course, they see Zso as the Emperor’s angel and, after unwittingly killing their leader, Zso meets a woman named Chianni who’s their newfound leader

Following Zso was a confusing aspect. Well, not really, but it was surprising to see his reasoning. His methods were brutal, but.. well he does know of other ways, but in a way, it’s all he knows. It’s all he remembers from Konrad Curze. The scant moments he lets himself slip to memory even. And then he’s grappling with, unwittingly, his own fall into Chaos. At least, until he’s reawoken in a sense. Having broken free of it.

With a much clearly mind, Zso starts achieving his plans, unwittingly playing into his enemies’s hands. Unwittingly, his closest companion of his ‘empire’ is one of his betrayers. He even grows attatched to his ‘empire’ before realizing he has to cut himself off of it.

It all comes to one big culmination when he’s finally rams into the Governor’s like.. collection area to get the Corona Nox when it’s revealed that Kaustus is controlled by Eldar, Eldar shows up, but I think the most profound thing happens when Mita and him are in Zso’s.. mind..?

“I hate a being so sick, so certain of his own brilliance, so twisted by the call of glory, that he repays the greatest sacrifice of all with betrayal!” and ”He sacrificed his humanity, child.” And suddenly his voice was so melancholic, so deep and so calm, so bloated by sadness” juST Zso Sahaal hurts, he hurts and he finally releases it all to Mita. The truth of himself, in a way, even. And then when he sees what has truly happened to the Legion he once.. I wanna say loved. The battle-brothers he once knew and cared for, and the ones he scorned like Krieg, he’s hurt. I can’t remember if he even cries but either way, Zso grieves, even as his arm is torn off and Krieg tells him how Konrad fell to chaos before his focus

His focus, the only thing Zso had faith in. Focus. Discipline. Controlling himself. And that’s maybe why I relate to him so much. Because, and I know this is stupid to say, but its all too easy to find yourself slipping to emotion. Being happy and excitable is fun until your all too scatter brained to even drive straight. Focus. Something that’s easy to tell yourself but hard to execute. Focus. A thing that even Zso Sahaal struggled with, even though it’s his biggest strength. Even when all has fallen from his hands and he has.. honestly, not much to live for, he rescues the only one that has been true to him, even if she was his enemy. Mita Ashlyn.

-

Which leads me to my next topic, Mita! You’re introduced to her and, honestly, I thought she was bullied throughout the book. Kaustrus is downright rude to her most times and so is his retinue, in fact, everyone’s kinda putting her down just because she’s a psyker. Maybe not the strongest, but certainly of some note. In my opinion, Mita is explosive. She has a temper, and quick to anger. She’s dead set on eliminating Zso Sahaal, wisely, because of the threat he brings to them all.

She’s focused and determined on her goals and willing to see them through even if it kills her. Going so far as to go renegade against the Inquisition for this threat. And then she realizes something throughout the book.

She’s looking in a mirror.

Power, ambition, the fortitude to survive and thrive, the anger and sadness.

She and Zso Sahaal are one in the same. Even down to their goals, opposite as they are.

They want the best for the Imperium. They want the best for humankind.

And I just, just absolutely LOVE how Mita’s crisis of Faith went. Her one thing tying her to the Imperium this entire time was the hope, just the barest thread of hope that maybe just maybe the Emperor loves her. That someone in the entire galaxy cares about her [though this is mainly prevalent after Cog’s death, someone who did genuinely care about her even if it was mostly a literal feral brain going !! pretty woman! Wonderful mom of possible children!] that would actually give a single damn if she died fulfilling her duty

Until Zso reveals the truth. That the Emperor doesn’t care. That he only cared about the whole of the Imperium and not one single fuck is given to the little people. The only ones he cared about was if they were doing their job right. Zso tells it to her brutally straight.

And Mita realizes he’s right. And that brings me to my final statement;

Both of them let go and free themselves. Both of them only save each other through each other. 

Both Zso and Mita had something quite literally holding them back. For Zso Sahaal, it was the warp’s touch and then it was his cracking hope that maybe his Legion is alright; when he lets go of that when he finally gets the truth that his Legion is as damned as the rest, instead of joining he fights to the end for his beliefs. For Mita Ashlyn, it was that the thought that someone loved her, even if it was their God. Her faight was her chains shackling her power.

“The Emperor does not give me my power. My tutors lied! It is my own!”

And that is how I relate to Mita. Instead of religious faith pulling her down, for me it was my own belief that my own happiness only stemmed from others. If someone else was happy, then I was! It was not until recent that I realized no. I can bring my own happiness. I can let go and be free to be happy.

Lord of the Night taught me that sometimes, you need to let go of the thing you hold onto most. The thing that anchors you so tightly to something you didn’t even know.

And THAT is what I love the most. That even though Zso Sahaal curses and seethes at the thought of Mita Ashlyn [as she does likewise], they both are such a wonderful mirror of each other in different ways. Two sides of the same coin. That, even though they were mortal enemies, they found [in a way] solace and freedom with each other.

And that is why I recommend Lord of the Night by Simon Spurrier. A wonderful book!

Ave Dominus Nox and Ave Imperator!

[concussed-to-pieces]

Return At Dawn

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri Blaiddyd/F!Byleth (Dimileth)

Rating: Holy shit M

Word Count: Nervous sweating around 34k

AN: I would like you all to bear witness to this...behemoth.  I have played over two hundred hours of this game, my life is chaos, and the post-timeskip cutscene is the sole reason why I wrote the entire thing. Obviously, spoiler warning for the Blue Lions route. Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment deals heavily with death and various, vivid post-traumatic scenarios. Stay safe!]

"Come in old man, I'm just washing up!" The muffled reply to his knock threw Dimitri for a momentary loop. She must have assumed he was Jeralt coming to check on her.

  "Er, Professor Byleth?" He called, gingerly easing the door to her quarters open. "It's me, Dimitri. May I…?"

  "Prince Dimitri, head of the house, right?" Their new professor emerged from the tiny luxury that was the en-suite washroom, wiping her hands on a towel. The remains of some soap suds clung to her cheek, which Dimitri chose to ignore as best as he could. "Here to try and scare me off? I warn you, I'm a force to be reckoned with."

  "Not at all!" Dimitri hastily assured the newly-minted professor, bowing on reflex. 

  He hadn't expected her to be so outspoken. When she had been with Jeralt, she kept the chatter to a minimum. Even if she hadn't though, normally once people found out he was a prince the stiff manners ensued. 

  The hand that warmly clasped his own was calloused with abundant scarring across the knuckles, a telltale sign of her successful mercenary career. "I just wanted to see whether you were having any issues settling in." The prince continued.

  "No problems so far, give me a few days to get lost in this place and I'm sure I'll have the layout memorized." She said it with a straight face, but Dimitri felt as if he were being joked with. 

  "Would you like a guide? I'm certain I can assist you in navigating the monastery on your first day." He offered cordially.

  …

  Dimitri jerked awake. 

  He was still where he had dropped last, his back pressed to the wall behind him. The end of his lance was wedged into the cracked marble underfoot, propping it upright. His grip on the heavy weapon hadn't loosened, even in his momentary doze.

  The once-princeling raised his remaining eye, taking in his handiwork. Butchered Imperial soldiers littered the cathedral floor in front of him, victims of their own foolishness. A chilling breeze blew through the enormous archway, but he doubted he could feel any colder.

  In the five years since Byleth was lost, her voice had been added to the burden on his soul. Along with his father, his stepmother, Glenn, Dedue...all of them screaming for vengeance, redeem us Dimitri, why couldn't you save us Dimitri .

  He was a shambling corpse, a beast driven mad by blood-craze, the wild boar suited for nothing but destruction and slaughter. How Felix would laugh, if he could see what depths the once-prince had sunk to. 

  The shaft of Dimitri's fearsome lance, an enormous thing intended for use by mounted cavalry, was tacky with half-dried blood. He wanted to feel nauseous. Maybe that was the hunger talking. When had he eaten last?

  What was I dreaming about?

  For the first time in what felt like years, he had dozed off. And instead of being tormented by memories of fire or the loss of Dedue, he was granted a bittersweet respite in the form of recalling his beloved professor's first foray into the academic life.

  Grief tore at him wildly, making him hunch into himself once again. The pain was so sharp and vivid whenever he thought of her ; he couldn't stop his body's reaction to the perceived assault. His grip on his lance tightened and he clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. Mourning was a luxury reserved for someone far better than he was. All he deserved was to suffer agony in silence.

  Overwhelmed with weariness, his head pounding, Dimitri closed his eye again.

  …

  "The professor is gone, but I do not believe she is dead!" Dimitri yelled fiercely as he sawed at the reins of his destrier. The horse whinnied and pawed the earth nervously, fighting the prince every step of the way. "We will save Professor Byleth!"

  "He's right, there's no way she's lost to us!" Ingrid agreed, her own mount giving her no end of trouble. "Blue Lions, if there is a way for us to get her back, we must try!"

  "Our professor lives, I know it!" Dedue announced firmly, the other students on foot rallying behind his shield. 

  Dimitri spurred his horse forward, going at a breakneck pace across the battlefield. " Solon! " He shouted, readying his lance. "I'll slice you into a thousand pieces as you watch with horror! You will know true pain before I finally allow you to die!" The flames of Duscur seared his soul; the dead cried out for vengeance and he must give it to them. Such was the burden of the living.

  "How trite!" Solon sneered. "But! If you wish for pain, I shall oblige."

  Dimitri's horse thundered onward relentlessly, the prince disrupting enemy formations left and right as he rode. Sylvain and Felix were close behind, with Dedue and Ingrid maintaining the rear guard. Just like they had practiced, Annette and Ashe used Dedue's shield as cover for their respective spells and arrows while Mercedes and Flayn kept a vigilant eye out for any injuries. 

  Dimitri advanced on Solon, his lance gleaming in the sunset as he prepared to strike him down. "Die, monster!" The infernal darkness that had dogged him since Duscur wrapped around his soul like a hand, squeezing, squeezing-

  Brilliant light erupted in the air directly in front of him and his horse reared, nearly unseating the prince. A red-hot blade seemed to pierce the sky itself, a rift tearing open to reveal…

  Professor Byleth! The Sword of the Creator was ablaze with a fiery glow, so bright it pained Dimitri to behold it. For one fleeting moment he felt fear, as though he were a damned sinner who was about to be judged by the Goddess herself. Then, the darkness fled from his mind, clarity returning as surely as his professor had. 

  "Professor Byleth!" He said gladly, raising his lance in a knight's salute to her. He paused, however, as his eyes grew accustomed to the light. Her hair...and her eyes! Such a strange shade of green they were, like sunlight filtered through forest leaves. What had happened to her in the brief time she had been away from them? What torments had wrought their havoc upon her? 

  Solon appeared just as confused as he was, babbling about the Forbidden Spell and how the professor shouldn't have been able to escape from it. 

  "We were sure that you would return! Please tell me all that happened to you later. For now, it's imperative that we kill the demon!" Dimitri urged his horse into a canter after Professor Byleth nodded to him. More enemies had appeared on the field, no doubt brought there by Solon's foul magics. But the Blue Lions would not lose their professor again.

  He would not lose their professor again .

  …

  The soft tread of someone entering the sanctuary roused Dimitri to awareness once more. He didn't so much as flinch, steadying his breathing. Better to not draw attention to himself ahead of time, after all. 

  The sky outside had begun to brighten to a steely gray with the dawn, the wind even colder than before. 

  Dimitri lifted his gaze and was duly horrified by what he saw. Another apparition, another shadow come to torment him at night. Had his delusions truly worsened so, that she would linger even in the waxing dawn? 

  Her strides were cautious. She practically tiptoed. So unlike his professor. 

  Dimitri's remaining eye narrowed. An impostor, then. No doubt sent by Edelgard to gain his trust. How transparent of the Flame Emperor. "Stay where you are, interloper." He rasped. "Unless you wish to be cut down."

  She did not speak. The witch had done her research, it would seem. All she did was carefully pick her way around the corpses, heading towards him. 

  "I should have known, that one day you would be haunting me as well." Dimitri leaned forward, lance braced on the ground. "I will warn you only one more time, trespasser ." The former prince spat, the sharp blade of his lance glinting in the first fitful rays of morning sunlight. "Stay back ."

  The hallucination or impostor had the audacity to look distressed with him, shaking her head. The sunrise suddenly poured into the room in earnest, robing her in golden splendor. 

  Dimitri momentarily closed his eye against the onslaught of memories. The Blue Lion brooch the class had gifted her on her birthday so long ago was securely pinned to her bosom, the beast's inlaid sapphire eyes sparkling in the dawn. That Edelgard would go to this extent for authenticity-! Had that monster found where the professor's final resting place was and robbed her grave to lay claim to the bauble? Or-

  Byleth touched his cheek and his eye snapped open. All the other apparitions were so cold, but her hand was warm enough that he could actually feel it on his chilled face. "Leave me, you foul demon! Why do you dog my footsteps? Why did you come to this wretched place?" Dimitri hissed. "Just to torment me, to remind me that I failed? I will kill that woman, I swear it! Do not look upon me with scorn in your eyes!"

  "I'm so sorry." 

  Oh! Her voice! The dead heart in his breast gave a weary little beat at the familiarity of it all. How many times had they sparred? How many times had she praised his monstrous strength instead of critiquing his enthusiastic, graceless way of moving?

  How many, how many, how many …

  "Why have you come here?" Dimitri asked again, his words quieter this time. "If you are truly alive, here , then you must be an Imperial spy. That's the only way you could have survived. Have you come to kill me, cur of Edelgard?" He snarled. "Answer the question."

  "Of course not." She murmured, her thumb brushing some dried blood off his cheek. He must have been injured during his previous fracas with the Imperial soldiers. Dimitri had felt no wound over the constant throbbing of his head, however. Her eyes searched his own, probing, concerned . "What happened?" 

  What happened to you, what happened to the monastery, what happened to me. Dimitri was unsure of what she was asking and she wasn't elaborating. 

  He could have dropped his lance and crushed her skull with the strength of his hands alone. Yet...hesitation. Doubt. Momentary weakness while Dimitri extended a hand and traced the side of her face, cheekbone to jaw. He was ashamed of how his fingers trembled. She was real. Tangible . No impostor could mimic her this well, nor could the Imperial magisters. So she must be a spy in the Emperor's pocket. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved that his mind hadn't slipped further into delirium or enraged that Edelgard would conceive such a bold-faced scheme.

  His armored palm curved against her cheek, not gentle enough to be a caress but not nearly harsh enough to be a shove. "You should not be here." The fury had seeped out of his words, leaving them hollow. He felt abruptly drained.

  Her hand covered his own on her cheek and healing light washed over him, banishing the weariness that had befallen him after his last pitched fight with the Imperial soldiers. He had been wounded, then? His memory must have gone patchy during the conflict. "I'm glad you're alright." She whispered.

  "Am I?" Dimitri pulled himself upright, impatiently waving off the hand she offered. "There are rats and thieves , crawling in the ruins below that I must remove." He muttered. "They are drawn here by the promise of treasure. I will...kill them all. Until Edelgard runs out of soldiers and has no choice but to come find me herself. Someone must put a stop to this cycle of the strong trampling the weak." Pretty words. He did not actually believe them. 

  "Your Highness-"

  "Do not refer to me as such. As far as the kingdom is aware, I died four years ago in Fhirdiad." Dimitri shook himself bodily, trying to free his form of the stiffness and morning chill that clung to him. "I must rid this place of its rat problem."

  "How many of them are there?" She was cautious again. She should be.

  "It doesn't matter." Dimitri snarled. "All that matters is killing those who deserve to die."

  …

  "It smells of blood and sewage." The prince mused, a smirk upon his face. "It seems I've found their nest."

  Byleth looked up at him, thoroughly concerned by the undercurrent of excitement in his tone. This was not the same young man she had once taught in the classroom. He seemed rabid and fixated at the same time, the sinister grin he sported twisting his stern features into a terrible mask. 

  He glanced over to her. It was impossible to miss that somewhere along the way he had lost the use of his right eye, the space now covered by a dark eyepatch. She had tried to stay on his left while they slunk through the dawn's shadows down to the monastery's edge, where the thieves were at their thickest. It would do her no good to approach on his blind side and be run through for spooking him.

  For just a second, she could have sworn his expression softened slightly. "Shall we go rat hunting, Professor?" 

  Professor, professor…

  She had never imagined her title could sound so bitter and forlorn. "Would you rather I move to your right and guard you? Or stay within sight on your left?"

  Dimitri hesitated before responding, "Do as you please. I am accustomed to protecting my blind spot. Opponents always believe it to be a weak point."

  "I will guard your right as we push forward, then." Byleth said firmly. "One less thing for you to worry about." He did not thank her, and she did not expect him to.

  Dimitri moved like a wild animal in a feeding frenzy. Mercilessly cutting down the thieves, whirling his enormous lance around his body as if it weighed nothing. He had gotten even stronger , and unfortunately, far better at killing.

  Even when the enemy managed to land blows upon him he shrugged them off, single-minded in his advance. The leader of the thieves had ensconced himself in a half-collapsed cupola and it did not take an incredible strategist to know that this man was Dimitri's mark. " Out of my way! " The once-princeling roared, the next blow from that mighty lance splitting the very flagstones with the force he put behind it. "Interlopers, thieves, scum! You will pay for your foolhardy destruction of the nearby village and your ransacking of my graveyard with your pitiful lives!"

  Byleth deflected an arrow aimed at Dimitri's blind side and the blond swung his lance over her head with a grunt of exertion, slaying the archer that dared to try him. True, the two of them were strong, but their adversaries were numerous. Even with both of their skill sets, this could prove to be a fruitless struggle.

  She suddenly heard a loud rattle of armor behind her. "His Highness! And...the professor?" Gilbert sounded shocked, and well he should.

  "I know it's been five years, but I never expected the monastery to end up like this ." A bowstring twanged and an arrow sang overhead. "This place is a wreck!"

  "Ashe!" Byleth said gladly. Ashe strode forward. He was taller and broader now but had that same boyish grin, another arrow nocked and ready to fire.

  The embodiment of gentle grace herself seemed to materialize out of the morning mist beside Byleth, Mercedes reaching up to pat the professor's shoulder. "I haven't seen any of you in such a long time. I'm so glad to see you're alive." 

  Gilbert advanced from the rear guard, Annette perched securely on his shoulders. From her lofty vantage point, she launched furious gouts of magic that leveled foes. "It's over, thieves!" She announced with fervour. 

  Dimitri seemed bewildered by the sudden arrival of his old classmates and allies, actually pausing in his assault. "Why...why are you here?" He asked, clearly confused.

  "No time for that now, your Highness!" Mercedes aimed a fire spell beneath his elbow, taking down a thief who had been attempting to sneak by the group. "We can catch up later."

  "And we definitely will!" Byleth couldn't help her laugh, utterly thrilled by the appearance of their friends. 

  Galloping hoofbeats signaled another approach and Sylvain thundered past the group. "C'mon guys, we've got a nest to exterminate!" He yelled over his shoulder, reining in his horse. "Nice to see ya', Teach!" 

  A pegasus swooped by overhead, Ingrid's lance gleaming in the early morning light as she rocketed onward. "We'll catch up later!" She called.

  Grateful tears filled Byleth's eyes and she hurried to dash them away. "You're all just-"

  "Now is not the time for sentiments." Felix grumbled from her elbow, loosening the sheath binding on his blades. "We're all here because we made a promise to return. That's that. Don't waste your breath thanking us, Professor."

  Dimitri looked a strange combination of outraged and grateful, the tall young man clearing his throat and then raising his voice. "Listen up! We must end this quickly." He still commanded some form of respect it would seem, as Byleth's former students took heed of his orders and arranged themselves accordingly. 

  …

  It felt like several lifetimes had passed since Dimitri had seen the faces that rallied with him. And yet they followed orders just like they had when they were nothing but children, classmates, friends . 

  A brief flicker of self-awareness crushed him in its grip. Nausea, bringing with it a wave of fetid bile to sour his mouth. I will use you all to suit my ends, until I can use you no longer and discard you. "Seal off their escape routes! Leave none alive! Those who would strip this place must pay the ultimate price!" Dimitri shouted hoarsely.

  He was no longer the noble, chivalrous prince who led his forces to victory, but the ravenous, slavering beast who craved nothing more than to see his enemies utterly broken before him. Dimitri had thought he came to terms with this long ago. However, having Professor Byleth witness his behavior was...it made it seem more real , somehow. It solidified his fall from regal poise into brutal, blood-soaked chaos.

  He wanted to hate her for it. Dimitri wanted to loathe her for holding them to such high standards, for always encouraging them to do their best…

  For leaving him all alone.  

  He hadn't been ready! When news of her disappearance had reached him, he had gone into a blind despair. They relied on her, depended upon her, and now she was gone? There had been so much he wanted to say to her. His heart had screamed the agony he refused to voice, the maybe I could have s keeping him up long into the night.

  It felt like a cruel joke.

  Then, Dedue perished as his whipping boy, thanks to Cornelia's elaborate frame job of the only surviving member of House Blaiddyd. The last fragment of his tenuous humanity sacrificed along with his stalwart friend, Dimitri had slaughtered guards of his own kingdom to steal their weaponry and then vanished into the wilds. Let Cornelia do as she pleased with the battered kingdom of Faerghus, he no longer cared. All he wanted...all he lived for, was his revenge.

  Dimitri took to terrorizing and harassing Imperial troops wherever he found them. With every soldier killed it became easier to rationalize his horrific actions. 

  Because they're Edelgard's, and everyone connected to her will suffer until she comes to atone.

  His prior clean ways of dispatching enemies dissolved into gory bloodbaths. The once-prince no longer worried about causing unnecessary pain; instead, he focused more and more on the fear . Everyone would die as his family had died, as Dedue and his dear professor had died: with terror etched into their souls and no mercy given.

  Dimitri struck out for Garreg Mach upon learning Imperial troops were sent there regularly, the soldiers tasked with handling thieves that menaced the nearby village. That the Knights of Seiros were too damn preoccupied with their search for their precious archbishop to offer any sort of assistance came as no surprise to the once-prince. After all, when it came down to brass tacks, the church served the church. 

  It had given him a certain, sadistic pleasure to cleanse the monastery's cathedral of its Imperial infestation, though he had done so at a great cost to his own body. If Byleth had not returned when she had…

  Regardless, she was a gifted healer and strong warrior. She would serve his crusade for revenge well.

  Dimitri steadfastly ignored the soft voice in his head that added and we won't lose her again .

  …

  Byleth strode past Dedue and Dimitri without so much as a nod. Dedue hailed their professor, but she didn't seem to hear him.

  Dimitri's brow furrowed. "Dedue, have you ever known our professor to ignore a greeting?" The prince asked his stalwart companion. "She even greets a majority of the knights by name."

  Dedue tilted his head, visibly puzzled. "Perhaps she was deep in thought, your Highness?"

  "Professor?" Dimitri called, getting as much of a reply as Dedue had. He noticed with a start that she was in her armor, as though she was heading out on one of their missions. But nothing had been issued that he knew of. And he was the head of the house! If a mission had been given, he would know about it. "Dedue, we must gather the others and follow her. This bodes poorly." Dimitri decided. 

  "Of course, your Highness. I will alert our classmates. It may take some time to get mounts saddled, however-"

  "We have to hurry, otherwise we will lose track of her. Use your best judgement and have everyone meet at the gates." 

  The professor moved as if she was in a trance. One foot in front of the other, unaware of her surroundings. It was so very peculiar, yet no one else seemed to take any notice of it at all.

  Dimitri followed at what he deemed a safe distance, but it was soon apparent that there was no need for any sort of attempt at stealth. She either expected to be followed or simply did not care if she was.

  Professor Byleth made her way to the garrison stables and took the nearest horse, not even bothering with saddle or bridle. The beast didn't seem to mind, waiting patiently by the mounting block for her to climb aboard and then quickly setting off at a brisk canter. 

  Dimitri swore under his breath, scrambling to saddle his own mount.

  "Your Highness! What's going on?" Ingrid queried, swinging open the stall door.

  "We must be swift and cautious, Ingrid. It's probably nothing, but I fear there may be something sinister at work. Make haste." The prince ordered, settling into his saddle and gathering the reins.

  "Of course. Shall I wait for Sylvain?"

  "Yes, and I tasked Dedue with gathering the others. From what I saw, the professor was heading in the direction of the Canyon. If something changes, I'll leave a message at the gates."

  The professor had a head start and Dimitri realized that she had not, in fact, taken a random horse. She had taken a fast horse. It might have even been Ferdinand's prized mount, but there were several chestnut horses in the stables and Dimitri had a difficult time differentiating between the animals on a good day. He knew that as a member of the gentry, he ought to be a good judge of horseflesh. Due to his heavy-handed strength however, he had never gotten much use out of fleet-footed, leggy mounts.

  His destrier was worked into a lather by the time he reached the Red Canyon. The powerful beast slowed to a trot with its ears flattened against its skull, its nostrils flaring as it sampled the wind. 

  A fierce roar echoed through the gorge and Dimitri jerked the reins, quickly halting his steed. The roar had come from deeper in the canyon. Where the professor was.  

  Sylvain paused beside him, the redhead's own mount fidgeting nervously. "So your Highness, we headin' in?" Sylvain asked, loosening the strap that secured his lance to his side. " Whatever that was, it sure as heck didn't sound friendly. If Professor Byleth is in there…" He left his words hanging pointedly.

  "I am well aware, Sylvain. I merely wished to wait for at least one more person. Charging into a situation without any sort of backup is foolhardy."

  "I live to serve." Sylvain threw the prince a roguish wink, slapping his stallion's neck with the reins to encourage it forward. 

  Dimitri rolled his eyes and nudged his destrier into a loping canter, quickly overtaking his friend. Ingrid came up on the left, her gelding tossing its head and showing the whites of its eyes. "The horses are uneasy and I don't care for it!" Ingrid observed over the racket of pounding hooves. "Best that we find the professor quickly!"

  Dimitri nodded curtly, mentally willing his horse to go even faster. He bent low against the steed's neck, slacking the reins and feeling its gait stretch out into a smooth gallop when he gave it its head to run. Sylvain whooped, following close behind.

  Finding the source of the roar was an easy enough task. A huge demonic beast accompanied by two enormous wolves snarled and snapped at the professor, the woman dodging them nimbly on foot. Her horse was nowhere to be seen, doubtless fled in panic.

  "Hallo Professor!" Sylvain yelled, waving his arm over his head to get her attention. "Looks like you're in a bit of a jam! Mind if we cut in?"

  " Sylvain …" Dimitri muttered, thoroughly exasperated with his lackadaisical friend.

  Not only were there the massive beasts trying to savage their professor, but even as the three students advanced, monstrous hawks closed in from the rear. 

  Luckily, Dedue and the others were not far behind. The Duscur man looked a bit green from his hurried horseback ride, but gamely got his axe right into the swing of things. Felix rode up past Ingrid and Sylvain, tossing Ingrid a lance as he went. "Forget something?" The black-haired young man asked her, his tone annoyed as ever.

  "Thank you Felix!" Ingrid replied, almost sarcastically. Dimitri wanted to laugh at their easy dynamic, though this situation was no laughing matter. 

  Felix's blade flashed through the air like lightning, the swordsman scoring a deep gash in the shoulder of the closest wolf to draw its attention. "Hie, you dumb beast!" He shouted, "you're no match for me! Face me and meet your end!"

  "Easy Felix, the professor is our priority!" Sylvain chided, lowering his lance and preparing to charge the other wolf. "Ingrid, lend me a hand? Two lances are better than one!"

  Dimitri thundered forward through the opening his friends had created, the prince facing down the largest demonic beast. "Professor, are you harmed?" He called to her, relieved when she shook her head. "Please assist me in dispatching this foe!"

  Despite the size advantage, the multitude of strange beasts were no match for the student's coordinated efforts. Ashe felled the last hawk with a grunt of exertion, having overdrawn his bow to reach the high-flying target. The bowstring snapped, making the young archer yelp in a combination of surprise and pain.

  Professor Byleth started visibly at the noise, shaking her head as if she was dismissing something. "Are you alright?" She called to him, sheathing her sword even though it still steamed with ichor. 

  "Fine! I'm fine, it just caught my face." Ashe assured her, rubbing his cheek gingerly. Mercedes descended to heal over the silver-haired boy's injury, her fingers tracing the welt the bowstring had left. 

  "Professor, I know it is not my place to chastise you," Dimitri began sternly, his hands on his hips.

  "It seems I put you all in danger." Professor Byleth observed ruefully. "I didn't expect anyone to follow me here."

  "You did not exactly make it a difficult task." The prince scolded, "Never once did you check to see if you were being tailed! Honestly Professor, what on earth were you thinking?! Coming to this dangerous place with no one by your side!"

  "I felt drawn here, your Highness. As though I needed to come. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't explain."

  "Next time you feel such urges , I strongly encourage you to find me first. If not to talk some sense into you, then to offer my lance to defend you!" Dimitri snapped, perhaps a bit sharper than he had intended.

  The professor was silent for a moment and the prince busied himself with roughly cleaning his lance. "You feared for me." She said finally, her voice soft.

  "Of course I- we did!" Dimitri erupted, thoroughly exasperated. "By the Goddess, have you no sense of preservation? There were at least six enormous monsters intent on ending you!" The haft of his lance groaned in warning before the metal abruptly snapped from the pressure of his grip. The prince swore in a manner that was most unbecoming of a gentleman, barely resisting the urge to throw his now-useless weapon as far as he could. 

  Professor Byleth put a hand on his arm and he shot her a glare, opening his mouth to continue berating her. But her expression stopped him dead. She looked more distraught than he had ever seen her, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched slightly. 

  The prince's combined indignation and relief leaked out of him. In its stead, he heaved a heavy sigh and placed his gauntlet over her hand on his arm. "What's done is done. You are safe, as are the rest of us. But I meant what I said. Should you fancy to wander, tell me . It will do us no good to lose you, my dear professor."

  ...

  They had all returned to the monastery just as they had promised five years ago. The millennium feast day, and not a pilgrim in sight. Byleth sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. 

  The monastery was a mess. Annette had thrown herself wholeheartedly into cleaning up, Ashe and Sylvain at her side. Ingrid and Felix seemed thoroughly invested in restocking the moldering larders. Mercedes flitted from group to group, offering a hand wherever it was needed. Gilbert was still making his rounds, examining the state of the dilapidated fortifications and trying to prioritize what to mend first. 

  Dimitri however, appeared utterly disinterested in assisting with any of these reconstructive efforts. The prince simply stood in the middle of the cathedral's sanctuary, his arms folded across his chest. Anyone who attempted to engage him was met with silence and an icy glare. 

  Byleth thumped her forehead on the rickety desk when that cheerful information was relayed, making the knight who had delivered it snicker quietly. "Alright, thank you for the update." The former professor mumbled, already leafing through the next mountainous stack of parchment. Requisition orders, provision plans, drill schedules...Gilbert certainly wasted no time whipping everything back into shape, herself included. What was a five year gap among friends?

  "My apologies for the skewed workload, professor. We are at war and the man who should be overseeing this...appears unwell." Gilbert's delicacy when mentioning Dimitri didn't go unnoticed by Byleth, the young woman beckoning the elder knight close.

  "Is he entirely lost to us?" She asked worriedly.

  Gilbert hummed, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "If not for the way that he attends to you, I would have said yes." He finally answered. "The solitude he has inflicted upon himself has clearly done his mental state no favors, as has his obsession with the Emperor. Yet…" Byleth flushed, cursing inwardly at the way Gilbert studied her. "He listens when you speak. That may be our only hope thus far, but it is a formidable one all the same."

  Byleth sighed. "I hope I'm up to the task."

  "If anyone could pull him out of this darkness, it is you." Gilbert stated firmly. 

  …

  The cathedral was silent. Aside from the birds that rustled in the rafters, all was peaceful. The perfect area for Dimitri to hold his forum with the dead. Glenn, his father, his stepmother, Dedue, they all had a say in his next move and they all clamored maddeningly loud for Edelgard's demise.

  His resolve was thrown into question by these beleaguered phantoms. Over and over Dimitri found himself frantically reassuring his dearly departed that he would tear Edelgard apart for them, that he would secure their salvation no matter what it cost him personally. 

  Their visages floated just out of the edge of his limited vision, forcing Dimitri to turn this way and that to try and keep them within sight. Always so close and yet, so very far away.

  The day's events had thoroughly exhausted him at this stage. Gilbert hadn't verified the structural integrity of the second floor of dormitories, and as such the once-prince was without a concrete sleeping location. He ended up simply stretching out on the marble floor of the cathedral, his heavy mantle spread over him. 

  Dimitri stared up at the stars through the destroyed roof. Even from his far-flung position, he could dimly hear the noise of the soldiers in the dining hall. It was so strange to sense motion and not be overly concerned about it, yet he did not fear any sort of assault. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that , the sense of complacent security he had.

  He knew better than to think he might actually sleep , but to his surprise, he actually found himself dozing.

  …

  "It's kind of pathetic to think about it all these years later, but can you guess what I gave her as a parting gift?" Dimitri grinned in anticipation of her attempt, happy that he wasn't the only one who would embarrass himself this evening.

  "Don't tell me." Professor Byleth's expression had gone deadpan once more. "You got her a dagger, didn't you."

  Dimitri was taken aback by her rapid, correct reply. 'Horrified' was probably a better term. "Huh. Good guess, Professor. But I swear it came from the heart. How on earth did you know?" He asked sheepishly.

  "You're a practical sort. Self defense, or something a little more abstract?"

  "I-I mean...well, both? In Faerghus, we've long considered blades as tools of destiny. As a way to cut a path to a better future." Dimitri failed to keep the wistful note out of his voice. "She was being dragged all over, unable to live the life she wanted. I thought the dagger could help her cut a path to the future she dreamed of." He sighed heavily. "However, that was many years ago. I'm sure she's forgotten all about the boy I was back then."

  "It's not too late to reconnect. Perhaps you should invite her to tea? Something small, so you don't make her wary." Byleth suggested gently. 

  Dimitri shook his head ruefully. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that. Things are different now. She's different. I'm different." 

  He rotated his arm, his shoulder still a little stiff from all the dancing. Holding rigorous posture was never an enjoyable experience, especially when he dwarfed all his partners (other than Claude). Professor Byleth said nothing in response to his quick dismissal of rekindling a sibling relationship with Edelgard, and Dimitri was immensely grateful.

  "Anyway, I'm feeling a bit out of place here. Festivities like this don't suit me." He glanced at her from beneath the curtain of his messy blond bangs, knowing that his hair must be utterly hopeless at this stage of the evening. "Professor, will you join me for a stroll? You must be tired of the ball yourself, seeing as you wandered out here for air just as I did."

  Byleth nodded and Dimitri offered her his arm.

  The Goddess Tower was so quiet, far from the commotion of the main hall. Dimitri found his palms sweaty inside his gauntlets and he grimaced. What a fool he was, inviting the professor to come along with him to this place. He had never paid much mind to the children's tales of wishes at specific locations. The Goddess would never intervene for him, that much was clear. Why waste time with this nonsense?

  Yet...here he was. Inches from the moon, he fancied, with Professor Byleth at his side. He was silent for a time, but she didn't seem to mind. If anything, she appeared grateful for a moment of respite. She sat on the railing, the two of them looking at the stars.

  "What a wonderful night." Byleth murmured. "I know I'll be paying for all that dancing, but that's a problem for tomorrow."

  "I am pleased that you enjoyed yourself, professor." Dimitri replied. "The peace here is appreciated after all that hubbub." 

  He shifted to face her, asking conversationally if she knew the legend of the Goddess Tower. He was surprised when she nodded enthusiastically. He hadn't pegged her as someone who put stock in nonsense fairytales and he said as much, making her laugh.

  "Your Highness, it's alright to be a little childish sometimes. I may not believe there's any truth to it, but it's fun to think about." She explained. Then, "You don't believe your wishes will come true, if you stand here and wish with me?"

  "Legends are legends, nothing more." Dimitri murmured. "I doubt there are many who truly believe that wishes can be granted." He cleared his throat. "Though...I suppose there's no harm in passing the time with silly legends." His melancholy dismissed for the time being, Dimitri extended a hand to his professor, smiling. "What do you say, Professor? Care to make a wish? We are here on the night of the ball. Why don't you try wishing for something?"

  "After you!" Byleth teased, her playful tone encouraging Dimitri to believe in the magic of such an endeavor, if only for a moment. She hopped off the railing and looked at him expectantly.

  "A wish of my own…" the prince mused, stroking his chin as he thought. "I suppose...my wish is for a world in which no one would ever be unjustly taken from us." He paused, realizing how serious that sounded. "Or, er, something along those lines." He hurriedly amended.

  Her hand rested beside his own on the railing and he was graced with another one of her soft smiles. "I will wish for the same."

  Dimitri's gratitude threatened to make him teary and he glanced away, clearing his throat again. "Thank you, Professor." He forced himself to smile winningly, looking back at her. "Although, at a time like this…perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we'll be together forever! What do you think?"

  She stared up at him in silence for several agonizing seconds. Dimitri slowly realized that the words he had spoken were incredibly weighty and he frantically scrambled to think of a way to defuse the dangerous situation he had created. How could he have said something so foolish?  

  Dimitri mustered up a weak chuckle. "Well now, Professor! You must admit I've improved in the art of joke-telling!" He grinned. 

  "That was cruel. It didn't sound like a joke." Byleth's eyes were sad and Dimitri longed desperately to ponder on that. Had she wanted him to be sincere? No, that couldn't be it. Perhaps she was more annoyed than sad? Oh, if his improper actions had offended her-!

  "I'm sorry. I guess that was rather thoughtless of me." He apologized earnestly. "Honestly, I do regret saying such a thing. Please, think nothing of it. I've blurted out irresponsible things like that to my classmates. Promises that we'll see each other again and the like." It was not entirely a lie; Dimitri felt his heart sink whenever he inadvertently made the grave error of promising anyone anything from him in the years to come. "I have no business making such promises for the future. There are certain things that I must accomplish, even if it means risking my life. I may not even have a future to promise to someone."

  There. As close to the whole truth as he had ever gotten with another person. It was terrifying . Byleth continued to stare up at him. Dimitri felt for a moment as if she could see into his very soul, could see the engorged falsehoods interwoven with the meager truths he did offer.

  "We should head back soon." The prince finally said quietly, averting his eyes. "It's...rude of me to keep you all to myself. Shall we, Professor?"

  When he offered her his arm this time, she ignored it in favor of lacing their fingers in a much more intimate manner. Dimitri flushed, grateful for the darkness of the tower to hide his red complexion. The professor said nothing the entire walk back to the main hall, but at one point she rested her head against his shoulder. 

  More than anything in that moment, Dimitri wished to stop and embrace her. He wished to believe in the power of his wish. But without a future to promise…

  No. He would not inflict such a pointless burden upon her. No matter how much it cost his heart, it was better this way. He would simply have to value their closeness that much more for the limited time that it was available to him.

  …

  Dimitri spent a good portion of time in the cathedral, muttering to himself and studying the marble floor so intently it seemed he would burn a hole in it. Byleth tried to speak to him, but unless she brought news of Imperial activities the prince didn't reply.

  One such day, after being brushed off yet again, she was surprised to have Felix usher her into one of the alcoves where a statue had once been.

  "Hello." Felix began stiffly. Even that was downright conversational compared to how he usually spoke. Byleth was instantly on edge. "I have a request concerning that... creature ." He jerked his chin toward Dimitri's large form. "I can hardly look at that thing in the state it's in." His eyes locked with Byleth's, the young man's expression dark. " Do something about it ."

  "I'll...I'll see what I can do?" The woman replied slowly.

  "Please do." Felix slouched against the pillar, his attention back on Dimitri. "We tracked the boar for five years . I thought he was dead. In the state he's in, he might as well be." The dark-haired man grumbled. "He's gotten better at killing people, and in exchange, surrendered what little humanity he had."

  Despite his cool demeanor, it was obvious that Felix still cared a great deal for the other young man. "Do you have any ideas?" Byleth asked.

  Felix shook his head. "I have spent far too long pushing the boar prince away. He would not listen to anything I have to offer." 

  "Any input you have is welcome all the same."

  Regret tinged his voice. "My elder brother died in his service, in Duscur. My father, Lord Rodrigue, handled the news in the only way he knew how: by praising my brother's commitment and sacrifice. I, however, lashed out at Dimitri for allowing my brother to die in his stead." He held up a hand when Byleth opened her mouth. "I understand that knights fight and die for their masters. It was merely because it was my brother that I attacked him."

  "Yes, but surely-"

  "Two years later, the prince and I were sent to quell a rebellion of the Duscur people." Felix was almost whispering, as though he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Dimitri was at the helm of the whole affair, to the confusion of many generals. The atrocities I saw that day...we were children , professor. I was just a squire; he couldn't have been older than sixteen, and yet the Kingdom councillors decided that the lone brat with no other heirs to the throne was the only suitable candidate to spearhead the attack." Felix's eyes narrowed. "They essentially set him loose on demoralized troops and watched him clumsily kill. A wild boar maddened with rage and inexperience, enjoying its first rampage." He tilted his head. "It seems incredibly suspect, now that I am older. Even if he was the most decorated man in the entire army, why would you send the last member of the royal bloodline out on such a mundane maneuver?"

  "He mentioned the rebellion to me before. He said it was easy. Too easy. A slaughter." Byleth replied, keeping her voice quiet. "Do you think someone was hoping he would die in that conflict? Or maybe they wanted him to get a taste for blood?"

  He shook his head. "It could be neither or both. It doesn't matter at this point, though I will say that my recollection of the events is not clouded by time or mania . If I had to hazard a guess, it is almost as if the whole rebellion was orchestrated. Duscur warriors were practically throwing themselves into the prince's path." Felix said bluntly. "We know that Cornelia has been scheming for many years. It wouldn't surprise me if this is all according to plan."

  Byleth's head felt as though it was spinning. Could it be true, that the Empire's conspiracy against the Kingdom wove that deeply into Dimitri's troubled past? 

  Felix heaved a sigh, pulling her from her thoughts. "This is all just useless speculation. Look, he listens to you for whatever reason. So again, do something . I don't care what. Imprison him, beat him, whatever it is that you think will work. Anything is better than watching him waste away like this."

  ...

  Gilbert had planned well for their first attempt at staving off the Empire. Though their battalions were much slimmer than the Imperial forces, the elder knight had devised a truly clever strategy. 

  A well-placed firebomb attack thoroughly decimated the horde of soldiers clashing with them. Dimitri could hear Randolph, that snake , shrieking orders to his men to fall back as the monastery forces of Garreg Mach doggedly pushed forward.

  Fire raged all around them, the pitiful scrub bushes reduced to ash in minutes. Several of the dilapidated defense towers had also started to burn, flames licking at the sides. Dimitri's headache intensified at the smell of hot metal and smoke and he winced, pressing a hand to his temple to alleviate the splitting pain.

  His slowed pace led to him falling behind his troops' advance. Dimitri scanned the battlefield, telling himself he didn't know who he was looking for. But...

  There was an ominous creak overhead and Dimitri glanced up, only to be treated to a shower of smoldering debris. To the left of him, Byleth didn't seem to have noticed the danger the weakened towers posed. Either that or she didn't care. 

  The dead heart in his chest leaped. She'll be crushed, burned, trapped-

  Dimitri bolted forward, shouting, "Professor! Get down!" He cursed inwardly when Byleth stopped and turned at the sound of his voice. Crowned with a halo of brilliant orange light, just as she had been all those years ago…

  Goddess-touched, Sothis' right hand .

  The tower teetered and began to collapse, no time left to escape the framework. Dimitri caught hold of her sleeve and managed to take her to the ground, throwing a metal-plated arm over her head to shield her while chunks of flaming debris rained down around them. She stared up at him, eyes wide, not even flinching when a hulking truss beam missed them by mere inches.

  Dimitri opened his mouth to say something, berate her maybe, he wasn't sure what , and then Randolph's form emerged from the hellish smoke. "The one-eyed demon! So it's you! " The general yelled, leveling his axe at him, " You're the one who's been going around killing the Imperial troops!"

  Dimitri bared his teeth and snarled deep in his chest as the commander advanced. "What is it to you?" The tower wreckage still roared with flames around he and Byleth, but it would do them no good if they were both slain. 

  The once-prince scrambled to find a solution while Randolph accused, "You bastard! Life is worthless to you, isn't it?!"

  Dimitri's laugh was an ugly, rasping noise, utterly devoid of humor. "You took the words from my mouth, general ." He abruptly seized Byleth's arm, dragged her upright and simply ordered, "jump." 

  She obeyed without hesitation. Dimitri flung her over Randolph's head with all of his strength, not caring particularly much where she landed as long as she was out of harm's way. 

  The once-prince then brandished his lance, grinning fiendishly at the new look of shock on Randolph's face. "I'll destroy you, dog of Edelgard!" He proclaimed. 

  Another fiery support hit the ground between them, the charred wood splintering loudly on impact. Randolph was clearly unsettled, the commander taking a single step back. "You...you're a monster! You care nothing for the people you've slaughtered!" He stammered. Dimitri hefted his lance, simply waiting for the other man to charge him.

  In a single instant, it was over. One swing of Randolph's axe, one thrust of his lance.

  Randolph collapsed, barely alive at Dimitri's feet. "Capture him." The once-prince ordered coldly after he pulled his lance free of the man's chest. Gilbert appeared out of the haze, lashing Randolph's hands together. 

  "I have family waiting for me. Please...I can't die here." Randolph begged once his axe had been torn from his grasp.

  "A beast of your depravity, prattling on about family? How amusing." Dimitri sneered, using the butt of his lance to shove Randolph onto his back.

  "As though you could understand...such a thing as love. You heartless monster! " Randolph spat defiantly up at him, struggling to right himself. 

  "You are a monster too, general. You have just yet to realize it." Dimitri leaned on his lance, studying the general with one cold blue eye. "A monster who thinks he's a man... despicable . As a general, you must have killed countless souls without a shred of mercy." The once-prince crouched, fisting a hand in Randolph's hair and making the other man look directly at him. "Do you remember the sound of them begging , just as you're begging now? Or, now that your life is at its end, will you hold to the lie that your hands are not stained red with blood?"

  "This...is war. I did what I had to for the Empire, for the people...for my family! " Randolph sounded desperate.

  Dimitri chuckled mirthlessly, releasing the hold he had on the man's hair and rising to stand once more. "So, you are piling up corpses for the people and your family . And I am doing the same for the salvation of the dead." He mused, "After all is said and done we are both murderers, both stained. Both monsters."

  "You're wrong!" Randolph cried frantically.

  "Am I?" Dimitri challenged. "I can smell the rotting flesh upon your hands even now, General ."

  "Enough! That's enough!" The Imperial screamed, shaking his head as if to dislodge Dimitri's cruel observation.

  "I won't kill you right away, my fellow monster." Dimitri continued over the general's pitiful caterwauling. The dead surged forward, gleefully demanding, bony fingers clutching at his shoulders. "Unless you object to watching your friends die. One. By. One ." Dimitri's fingers grazed the patch that covered his right eye. "If so, I will do you the service of removing your eyes first, so that-"

  He had been leaning in, so intent on the look of horrified despair on the dying man's face that he failed to notice Byleth approaching. Her sword flashed once and Randolph gurgled something, a name, " forgive me …" as he expired.

  Dimitri straightened up to his full height, glaring at his former professor. Byleth had stolen that man's fear and death from him. Even now, his grip on his lance tightened. Would he really kill her over something like this? Goddess, he might. What kind of monster was he? 

  "What is the meaning of this?" He gritted through his clenched teeth, struggling desperately to keep a handle on his temper.

  "I miss the Dimitri I once knew." Her voice was so soft, he almost missed what she said. 

  Dimitri barely managed to maintain his composure at that . If he could call shouting at someone maintaining his composure, that is. "The Dimitri you once knew is dead! " He barked. "All that remains is this repulsive, blood-stained monster you see before you. If you do not approve of what I have become, then kill me ." 

  He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were so bright, shimmering with tears, but she defiantly refused to let them fall. The sight cooled his rage, but only just. 

  "If you insist that you cannot, then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh falls from your bones ." He finished firmly, releasing her and stepping back. 

  As though you could understand...such a thing as love…

  Randolph's words rang in Dimitri's mind long after their troops had dispersed over the battlefield to gather the wounded and bury the dead. The once-prince hated those damn words. He had been a fool . Throwing himself into danger to shield Byleth, only to have her turn around and betray him by killing Randolph herself!

  Goddess, his head ached. 

  …

  Her animalistic wail of agony caught everyone off guard. Their professor, who had only just begun to smile in the presence of her students, appeared to have entirely lost her composure.

  Her father was dead. Dimitri knew the anguish that she felt all too well. He could practically see himself in her, weeping against her father's chest and pleading with Jeralt to open his eyes. 

  Dimitri had done much the same when his own father had been slain, begging and bargaining with anything that might have been listening, don't leave me all alone!

  Gently but firmly, the prince took Byleth's hand and started tugging her to her feet. She tried to refuse at first, clinging to his hand and Captain Jeralt's body with equal fervor. Dimitri managed the task all the same, hesitating for a moment before wrapping the young woman in his arms.

  She sobbed hysterically into his soaked gambeson, her hands clenching into fists in the tough fabric. It was as though something had snapped inside her; the proverbial dam had been broken and now all her sadness came pouring out in a torrent. It was a bit frightening to see her so utterly destroyed, but also understandable. Dimitri simply stayed silent and let her weep, one hand slowly stroking her back.

  "Your Highness," Sylvain said quietly after several minutes had passed. "Ashe and I are gonna' go fetch the knights. We can't leave Captain Jeralt in the rain like this." 

  "Of course. See that you remain vigilant. Monica or whoever she is might still be out there." 

  The professor's hold on Dimitri loosened at his words and she pulled back, taking a shuddering breath. The look on her face broke the prince's heart all over again. She was defeated, in pieces, and he could not think of a single comforting thing to say. He himself had grown indelibly weary of the platitudes of strangers after he had lost every ally and friend to the fires of Duscur. 

  Dimitri shook his head when she opened her mouth. "Don't, Professor. It is better if you do not speak right now." He murmured. "It is still too new and fresh, and it is far too easy to say something you will regret."

  "I'll kill her." Professor Byleth gasped. 

  "That much we can agree on." 

  She went on to sequester herself in her room for several days after the incident. Professors Manuela and Hanneman divided her workload so the students were not left wanting for education. They were , however, left to worry about their beloved professor Byleth. 

  When Dimitri happened upon the young woman in her late father's office, he could tell that she had been weeping recently. She started when he spoke to her, as though she hadn't noticed his approach. 

  "Professor! You're out and about! I was...we all were...er, you've been on our minds." Dimitri tried to keep his voice soft, explaining that Rhea had asked for Byleth's presence. "And after that, why don't you join me in the dining hall? You haven't eaten since...since it happened, have you." Her expression didn't change but Dimitri could feel the nervous energy coming off of her. He quickly backtracked, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Forgive me. I suppose it's too soon to try and coax you back into the normal swing of things."

  "Forgive my absence, please." She said softly.

  "You have nothing to apologize for, Professor." Dimitri replied, perhaps a touch too quickly. "As for what happened to Jeralt...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop it. Stay here until you've found some peace." He implored her. "I'll cover for you with Lady Rhea and everyone else."

  "Thank you." The professor sniffled and Dimitri felt his composure waver.

  "We'll be waiting for you whenever you're ready to return to us." He promised, offering her a thin smile. "I don't believe it's a sign of strength to just keep moving forward no matter what. Taking the time to grieve for those we've lost...there's strength in that too." He carefully reached out, and she put her hand into his after a moment. "That's what I think, anyway." 

  "I am so weary of crying, but it's all I seem to do these days." Byleth whispered. 

  "It's also important to remember that no matter how sad you are, eventually your tears will dry up. Eventually you will forgive yourself, as well as forgive your father for leaving you. That's when you have to figure out what it is you're living for. Then, you can cling to that with all your might, and start moving forward again."

  "What I'm living for?" She echoed his words listlessly.

  "Four years ago in Duscur, I experienced the same pain you're feeling now." Dimitri disliked speaking about Duscur. It always reminded him of what he had yet to accomplish. "My father was the strongest man I knew. Someone I loved and admired deeply. That day, he was killed before my eyes. His head severed clean off." Dimitri took a shuddering breath, the memory still difficult to recount even all these years later. "My stepmother, the kindest person I had ever known, left me behind and disappeared into the infernal flames."

  He took a moment to master himself, ashamed at how lacking his control was. His professor squeezed his hand, as though encouraging him to carry on. Even in her sorrow, she was so kind.

  "Everyone who I considered precious...my family and my closest friends. I couldn't save any of them. Not a single one." Dimitri continued quietly. "Now, the burden of the work they left behind falls on me. I must ensure they have no regrets. That's my duty, as the sole survivor of the Tragedy." He admitted, "it's a heavy burden, but accepting it gave me the strength to pick myself up off the ground and start moving again. Start living again."

  Byleth gave a little sob at that.

  Dimitri clasped her hands between his own and held them to his heart, trying to offer some sort of comfort. "Jeralt is gone. So what will you do now, Professor? What must you do? Look deep in your heart and I'm certain you'll find the answer there, indelible and inescapable." 

  She met his eyes for the first time and Dimitri was struck by how fragile she seemed, as though the slightest breeze might rend her asunder. 

  "I've probably bothered you enough for today, but I have just one more thought to leave you with." Dimitri said apologetically. "Even now, Seteth is gathering the knights to begin a full-scale search for the enemy. It may not be right away, but before long they will find their trail."

  "I will kill her." Byleth said fiercely, a touch of her old fire returning.

  The blond nodded his assent. "No matter what happens or what anyone may say, know that I plan to stand by you, Professor. Through anything. Until the bitter end." He swore fervently, his gaze unwavering. "Know that your enemies are my enemies. I will do all I can to help you find justice. There is no one else I can…" Dimitri paused, searching for the right words. "My strength is yours alone."

  "You cannot promise such things, your Highness." Byleth protested. "You must think of-"

  "I will fight as you command. I will kill anyone should you ask it of me." Dimitri insisted. "I would promise this to anyone I hold in high regard, Professor." 

  That was an absolute, bold-faced lie. He had refused to engage in the folly of swearing his time and energy to causes he may not survive to see, but this…

  The distress of his dear professor tore him apart and more than anything, Dimitri wanted to help her. He wanted to be someone that she could depend on, no matter the cost. And so, even though it was against his modus operandi, the prince charged himself with helping to secure and execute her revenge.

  ...

  The cathedral guard waved her over and Byleth approached, slightly apprehensive. "Professor, I...that creature, I saw him interacting with the monastery orphans earlier." He whispered conspiratorially once she was within earshot, doing his best to point at Dimitri without actually pointing at him. "He even pet one of them on the head! I didn't think that someone like him was capable of...I mean, he didn't smile or anything. But still, I found it strange and I thought you should know." 

  Byleth thanked the guard for his report and proceeded to mull the new information over. Many of their ragtag army thought the once-prince a monster, and all of his behavior seemed to confirm their suspicions. So what was this odd flash of humanity? She had feared after Randolph that Dimitri was beyond saving, but perhaps…

  She needed to talk to several people immediately. Starting with Mercedes. Luckily, the other woman wasn't exactly difficult to track down.

  "A choir recital to boost morale and camaraderie?" The normally calm and reserved Mercedes looked like she was about to burst with excitement when Byleth pitched the idea. "That's a wonderful idea! I thought as much myself, but I didn't want to be presumptuous. Are you certain it will be alright if we use the cathedral to rehearse, professor?"

  "Of course. I already cleared it with Seteth." Or I will, anyway . "Your group can have it in the afternoons. In the mornings, I'm hoping I can get Gilbert and Sylvain to help me with another little project. Oh, maybe Felix too…" Byleth trailed off, tapping her chin. "If I were you, I would ask Manuela for a hand."

  "You're absolutely right!" Mercedes agreed with a smile. "And I'm sure Annie will help out too! What's your project, Professor?"

  "We have a lot of children around because of the conflicts. I figure if they're going to be here, the ones who want to learn to keep themselves safe should have the opportunity."

  …

  Gilbert sat atop a large chunk of rubble from the caved-in roof, whittling away at a small piece of basswood. A cluster of younger children gathered at his feet, watching him work with rapt attention. A few of them were already playing with tiny dolls or horses. The old knight had clearly been busy.

  The older children were organized into straggling lines facing where the altar had been. Sylvain, Felix and Alois filtered through the ranks to straighten postures or adjust grips on training weapons as needed, while Professor Byleth led the simple stance drills. 

  Dimitri hovered in the main cathedral entryway, irritated and fascinated all at once. It would seem that the dreary space he had haunted was overrun with excited, chattering children. Was it brighter in the cathedral today, or was that merely his fancy talking?

  Felix was smiling . That image alone gave him a considerable amount of pause. True, it was nothing more than a slight upturn at the edge of his mouth, but that was more than he'd displayed in Dimitri's presence for over ten years.

  "Oh, your Highness! What brings you here?" Mercedes' gentle voice interrupted his troubled musings. 

  Dimitri inclined his head so she would know he had heard her, though he did not face or trouble himself to answer her. She approached on his blind side and Dimitri tensed reflexively, only letting his shoulders drop once she was fully within view.

  "Are you having fun watching, your Highness? I get like that too sometimes. It's a lot of effort to join people, and plus, what would I even say?" Mercedes laughed softly. 

  "Indeed." Dimitri replied curtly.

  "Oh, is the professor waving at you? Or me? Hello, Professor!" Mercedes waved back excitedly and Dimitri seized her distraction to lurch forward into the cathedral, heading for one of the side courtyards. His routine would not be discarded simply because of some misguided training practice, how dare -

  Mercedes words struck him anew. What would I even say? Truly, what could he say? The dead demanded Edelgard, screamed and clamored for her head. He would not let his departed family and friends languish while that witch roamed free. They must be allowed to rest easy with no regrets, regardless of what it cost him.

  Brow furrowed, he continued forward past the pile of rubble from where the roof had given way. Gilbert offered him a silent nod, which Dimitri returned on his way to the door. Once he reached it, he engaged in his pastime of studying the cracked marble beneath his boots and fervently assuring his ghostly comrades that he would be triumphant over Edelgard.

  He could not be sure how long he stood there. His nights were sleepless, melting together with his days in a haze of impatience. He was used to surviving on stolen minutes of respite, the meager times when the dead allowed him peace.

  At some point, the sword practice with children changed to choir practice with adults. A multitude of former students, knights and professors all gathered to rehearse, give well-meaning pointers and seemingly just enjoy each other's company. Though his professor ( former professor, Dimitri corrected himself furiously) had been busy all morning, she stayed for the choir practice as well. 

  Dimitri soon found himself listening instead of brooding, but he kept his gaze on the floor. Some of the songs were old hymns that he had heard in his youth, while others hailed from the Mittelfrank opera stage. A strange combination. His stepmother had loved singing, though the late king and his son shared a mutual tonedeaf gene that threatened to ruin her performances. Dimitri could only just remember the way his father would interrupt her, making her sigh with his noble, kingly attempts to carry a tune. 

  Another bittersweet memory. It felt...precious. Dimitri looked up from the floor and caught Professor Byleth watching him. She raised an eyebrow and made a subtle gesture with her hand. Join us?

  Dimitri turned on his heel and departed.

  …

  Claude turned on his heel and escorted the professor of the Blue Lions out onto the dance floor, weaving between the other dancers in a strange pattern that was absolutely contrary to the stately Faerghus waltz playing. 

  Dimitri had to laugh at the professor's deadpan expression, apologizing to his partner hastily and then moving to intervene. "Claude!" He called, chuckling when the head of Golden Deer rushed to hand Professor Byleth off to Lorenz. "Transparent as ever, my friend!" 

  "Hey, your house can't hog the new professor all the time. I'm just sharing the love." Claude reasoned, slinging an arm around Dimitri's shoulders. The leader of the Golden Deer house then easily swung the prince into a passing semblance of a waltz, the two of them having a grand time trying to dodge each other's feet. "It's nice to see her enjoying herself though." Claude mused.

  "I know what you mean." Dimitri agreed, "I wonder if the mercenary life was too lonely for her?"

  "Probably too boring!" Claude grinned. "We've kept her pretty busy with our antics."

  "That much cannot be denied." 

  Dimitri's mind wandered back to Flayn trying to teach Byleth to dance, the way the professor had smiled , her eyes fairly luminous with excitement. 

  Dimitri had been roped into the lesson as a partner for the professor, Flayn stating that he was the obvious choice due to his height and familiarity with the dances. He was hesitant at first, wary of where to put his hands. He knew , of course, but the idea of actually touching her was-

  He wasn't sure why his heart had been pounding so hard. Even now, as he watched her get passed from Golden Deer to Golden Deer during a rousing folk reel that originated in the Leicester Alliance, his heart tripped wildly in his chest. How peculiar.

  "The Fox Chase, your Kingliness!" Claude said excitedly, bowing and then catching both of Dimitri's hands. "C'mon, stop gawking and get back in here!"

  "Claude-!" Dimitri protested, his discomfort notwithstanding as Claude dragged him around. 

  Abruptly, no doubt due to more wily Golden Deer machinations, the prince and Professor Byleth were side by side. The future leader of the Alliance vanished back into the crowd, leaving Dimitri standing alone. Byleth looked up at him, her cheeks flushed with exertion and her eyes sparkling in the soft light from the chandelier. "Enjoying yourself, your Highness?" She asked, as though they weren't in the middle of a swirling maelstrom of students.

  Dimitri found himself grinning broadly back at her, accepting the hand she extended to him. "I am now, Professor."

  …

  It would seem that his once-solitary space had been permanently commandeered. Dimitri couldn't even find it in his blackened heart to complain, resorting to glowering at the ground in the courtyard doorway instead of the middle of the ruined chancel. 

  One day, a small girl hid under his cloak without him noticing. Indeed, he might have continued being oblivious, had she not giggled wildly when her friend dashed by calling her name. Dimitri grunted, startled by the closeness of laughter as well as the slight tugging on his heavy cloak. 

  He turned, fixing his lone blue eye on the offending party that was currently playing in the thick folds of his mantle. The child froze, seeming to realize she was under scrutiny, and peeked up at him. 

  Her eyes met his own. He watched as they darted to the patch that covered his right eye, yet there was no fear. Slight apprehension, perhaps, maybe she thought she would be scolded. Dimitri was confused by her lack of terror. The knights and monks said horrendous things about him, most of them true. He had become a butcher, a monster. Surely this child had been warned away from him. Surely .

  "You look lonely. Do you want to play with us?" The little girl asked, her words laden with a child's curiosity. 

  "No." Dimitri paused after her face fell, then gritted out, "You ought to stay away from me." Fool, why would you say something like that?!

  "Why? You've been so sad ever since you came back. Is it because you miss your friend?" She queried. "The Duscur man who took care of the flowers?" Dedue . Emotion forced Dimitri to clear his throat. She must be one of the original waifs from the monastery if she could recall Dedue. "You still have your other friends though! I know that the professor wishes you would come over." The child confided, standing up on her tiptoes in an attempt to whisper to him.

  "I'm certain she does. I am not deserving of such consideration." Dimitri replied brusquely. His hand rested briefly atop the little girl's head. "You should run along now." She actually grabbed his other hand and yanked , trying to get him to come with her. She might as well have tried to move a boulder. "Go on." Dimitri ordered, not unkindly. 

  "Nuh uh! Mercedes made sweets today, and you're always standing over here staring at Professor-"

  " Child ." Dimitri muttered, getting down on one knee so that he could attempt to be eye level with the girl. She looked thoroughly incensed at his firm refusal and it made him want to laugh. "Sometimes...there are people like me in this world who are not meant to be around other people." He knew his explanation was clumsy at best, but trying to simplify such a complicated thing was not easily managed.

  "Can I bring you a cake, then? If I run over and get it so you don't have to?" She was bargaining with him, of all things. 

  The once-prince sighed heavily and nodded, waiting until she had started running to Mercedes before he left. Better to disappoint her than encourage her behavior. 

  …

  "You need to be careful." Dedue chastised him, reaching over to try and salvage the mangled flower. "If you are not decisive with your action, you will destroy the plant."

  "I apologize, Dedue. I am not accustomed to such delicate work." Dimitri sighed, abandoning his efforts. 

  "It is alright. These are very small flowers, after all."

  They had been tasked with gathering the centerpieces for the dining hall and Dimitri had been determined to do an excellent job. But his hands were so indelicate that he was doing more butchering than gardening. 

  "How do you manage it?" He asked the Duscur man curiously. Dedue's hands were just as large as his own, yet he seemed to have no trouble whatsoever.

  Dedue did not answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was strangely soft. "My sister loved to coax flowers to life even in the worst terrain. This is simple, compared to that."

  Dimitri fell silent and Dedue worked on, easily separating out sprigs of foliage for them to use. "I...I am sorry, Dedue. I should not be so thoughtless." The prince felt like he ought to be whispering for some reason. Dedue did not speak often of his late family members, all slaughtered in the Tragedy of Duscur.

  "Do not apologize. You have done nothing wrong." Dedue stared down at the bundle of vibrant blooms in their basket. "Through my actions, through my words, they live on. As long as I remember them, they will rest easily."

  "You do her memory such honor, Dedue." The notion of not striking back against the people who had taken his loved ones from him, but instead attempting to spread the knowledge that they had left him with...

  "That is all I can hope for, your Highness." Dedue handed Dimitri back his shears and gestured to another flower with a tentative smile. "Here, try again."

  ...

  He told himself he wasn't avoiding the cathedral, he was simply choosing to aimlessly wander the monastery grounds. People stayed out of his way for the most part, though the children had a tendency to gather and frolic around him like he was some kind of sentient, roaming maypole. 

  Dimitri spent his nights in the cathedral, though he wasn't sure why. The dormitories had been thoroughly examined and found structurally sound. His personal quarters were not wanting, and he certainly wasn't a pious man, especially not now with his hands soaked in blood. Best that he not trouble the Goddess with his pitiful pleas for aid in revenge. She had blessed him with Byleth's return, after all, a truly fine tool for his crusade. What more could he wish for?

  Still he sat in one of the worn pews, night after night, and simply watched the coming and going of worshippers until he couldn't force himself to stay awake any longer.

  He never slept for too long. Sometimes he awoke to find that a small meal had been left on the bench adjacent to him, tied up in one of the many napkins from the dining hall. It vexed him greatly to know that someone had been able to get that close, unconscious though he might be. 

  His head ached constantly. Every day that they spent plotting and gathering their strength was a day that he didn't have Edelgard's lifeless corpse to present to his dearly departed loved ones. Their cries for revenge were maddening, all-consuming; it was no wonder he slept poorly.

  Then came the fateful evening he stumbled upon the professor sound asleep beneath the pews. Byleth was curled up against the chill in the air, and a familiar bundle of cloth on the bench above her caught Dimitri's eye. The tall man carefully untied the knot in the napkin, revealing several rations of bread, one precious sweet bun, a piece of cheese and a peach. It would appear he had found the person who could sneak up on him while he slumbered. 

  The dark circles under her eyes were far too pronounced. They nearly matched his own. She was working more than she needed to, just as she had done when he had simply been her student.

  Dimitri unclasped his heavy cloak before he realized what he was doing. When he noticed, he hesitated, fingers digging into the mane of thick fur. Wasn't this foolish of him? But then, he already knew he was a fool. If he was being honest with himself, if he still had the capacity to feel such things, he was absolutely smitten with his dear professor.

  A beast like him didn't deserve such a vibrant and joyous soul at his side. His hands were unable to be gentle, his humanity surrendered years ago to hone his ability to take life. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, fallen princeling, heir to a fractured kingdom, knew all too well that his greatest shortcoming was his greed. It came in the form of lust for victory, his desire to have his cake and glut himself on it. 

  He scoffed at his thoughts, wrapped Byleth in his cloak and then lifted her from the floor.

  Dimitri had only carried her once before.

  …

  She had been gifted the power of the Goddess herself. Her hair and eyes had shifted to a vibrant green, echoing all the imagery of Saint Seiros. It was as though the old tales had come to life before his very eyes. 

  " Professor! What's wrong?!" Dimitri was concerned when she abruptly collapsed after their battle with Solon, but his worry faded as he realized she was merely asleep. "Professor, now is not the time nor the place for such an activity!" The prince scolded her fruitlessly, unfastening his half cape. 

  It was a simple enough matter to swaddle her in the fabric, but then he paused. Propriety dictated that he should wait until another professor or one of the knights had arrived to manage the situation. However, propriety had never been one of his strong suits. 

  "Looks like you'll be riding with me, Professor. Dedue, please hand her up to me once I've mounted." The blond man vaulted back into the saddle of his destrier and settled the professor's slumbering form in front of him, then picked up the reins.

  Their return to the monastery was slow. Everyone was exhausted, to say the least. Mercedes had nearly lost consciousness due to her focus on healing, and as such was currently being assisted by the stoic Dedue. Flayn was the only one who appeared unaffected by the battle, the young woman chattering away enthusiastically even with Ashe's arm slung over her shoulder. It was heartening to see that she had not allowed the bloodshed to rattle her.

  Professor Byleth seemed so small when she was asleep. She barely weighed anything; Dimitri easily held her steady on his horse with a single arm around her waist. She ended up slumped against his chest, her head tucked underneath his chin. Dimitri forced his eyes forward, attempting to focus on the trail back to the monastery instead of on his professor's proximity.

  He heard Mercedes sleepily ask, "Do you think she'll be alright?"

  "I have no doubt. Our professor is quite strong." Dedue assured the young woman. " You , on the other hand, will need proper food and rest before you attempt such reckless behavior again."

  "Reckless? I was only doing what I was supposed to." Mercedes protested. 

  "You must be aware of your own limitations. Do not forget that I am here to assist as well." Flayn said cheerily. "I feel that we did an excellent job, considering that we were walking into an obvious trap!"

  Dimitri turned his head and very nearly asked what the hell she was talking about, but he held his tongue at the last moment. Flayn was a mysterious creature; she never seemed to have a straight answer for anything . And even when she did answer, it rarely solved the query being posed. Better that he save himself the frustration of her circular replies.

  Eyes forward once more, the prince trusted his destrier to find a path of least resistance as his mind wandered. 

  It must have been a trap, meant to goad the professor into coming alone. Her father's murderers, all in one spot? It was too convenient. The enemy didn't seem to have counted on her returning from whatever spell that had been. The Forbidden Spell …

  Dimitri had no real talent for magic. His family Crest amplifying his strength saw to that. But he knew a few things from his schooling. Such as, the more raw energy or potential put into a spell, the more powerful it was. Solon had ripped the very heart out of Kronya to fuel his dark magics. Dimitri had watched the old man crush the still-beating organ like it was nothing. The memory of the dense purple haze that had arose sent shudders down the prince's spine. There was something innately wrong about such things. Blood magic, sacrificial amplification...it all made his skin crawl.

  Dimitri found himself holding their professor a little tighter as they rode. He wasn't certain why, maybe it was simply his prior trauma talking, but he felt a strange fear about her being taken from them once more. 

  Byleth murmured something in her sleep. On her hip, the seemingly-awakened Sword of the Creator pulsed with light like it was a living thing. 

  This entire situation was so incredibly bizarre. 

  …

  "That is House Rowe's banner. They curried favor with that witch and sold out Faerghus." Dimitri had assumed his supply of disdain had run dry, yet he still felt a sneer curl his lip. "To think that they would vanguard a corpse to fend us off, as if we are nothing but a nuisance ."

  The notion that Viscount Rowe would muster troops, send that decrepit warrior into this inhospitable area to ensure Rodrigue's men would have no Kingdom Army to join...it made Dimitri want to hilt his lance in the dastard's chest. Ailell's heated environment was like Hell itself for anyone in armor, the bubbling pools of lava all around them enough to give the most seasoned of knights pause. Even though Dimitri had dismissed Gilbert's old wives' tale of the Valley's creation, it wasn't difficult to see how the legend might have been born. This cursed place did indeed seem as though it had been brought about by a Goddess' fury.

  The Gray Lion, withered and laughably past his prime, raised his lance in challenge from across the cracked obsidian landscape. 

  "Will you have us meet them in battle, or wait for Lord Rodrigue to arrive?" Gilbert asked the once-prince cautiously.

  "There is only one option." Dimitri bared his teeth in a wicked grin. "How kind of them to save us the trouble of killing them later."

  Byleth opened her mouth, no doubt about to say something foolish like weren't they your allies once or shouldn't we wait for Rodrigue .

  Dimitri headed her off, half-tempted to press a finger to her lips to hush her. "That banner belongs to the Gray Lion of House Rowe, Lord Gwendal. It's a waste of breath to exchange words with one such as him." The young man informed her curtly. 

  "His Highness is correct. He is not an opponent whom we can expect to negotiate with." Gilbert agreed. He then raised his voice to address their meager troops, "everyone! Prepare for the attack!"

  Their formations were bare bones. Dimitri did not fear for their victory though. This would be the final time Count Rowe's loyal dog Gwendal rode out to battle.

  Gouts of fire spouted from either side of the relative pathway forward, the lava agitated by the motions of the two forces preparing to collide. "So, the flames of torment burn your sins, your life, your everything." The prince mused, half to himself. "If you wish to spare yourself the Goddess' wrath, Professor, tread lightly."

  Byleth nodded and readied her sword. 

  Their soldiers fought bravely, and when Rodrigue arrived it offered Dimitri the opening he needed to get within striking distance of Gwendal.

  "The man praised as a lion is degraded to a mere traitor's underling." Dimitri sneered at the mounted knight, adjusting his grip on his lance. Horse first, then man .

  "A traitor's underling?! That's upsetting, your Highness!" Gwendal protested. "I am and always have been a knight of House Rowe!"

  "How dare you." Dimitri's voice dipped into a furious gravel. "You are nothing but a lowly beast scavenging for scraps! You have forgotten the dignity of knighthood." 

  "I may be lowly . But this beast is devoted to his master!" The elderly knight proclaimed.

  "Ha! Then I had better kill the pet and deliver its head to that master." After that grim declaration, Dimitri swung his lance with all his strength into the legs of Lord Gwendal's horse. Both man and beast crashed to the ground, and Dimitri wasted no more time with words.

  The blade of his lance pierced Gwendal's armor before sinking home and the old man wheezed, "ah, so I have found a place to die. Young ones...your Highness...I thank you…" There was the barest hint of a smile on that scarred face.

  Dimitri pulled the lance free, shuddering before he could stop himself. He loathed the eerie calm in Gwendal's voice when he had expired, as though this was all the elderly man had wanted. To be slain in battle, just another casualty of war.

  The professor came up alongside him, standing there silently until Dimitri looked up. "Lord Fraldarius is waiting for you, your Highness." She informed him. 

  Dimitri nodded, straightening his gauntlets. His hair was hopeless from the heat and grime, but it was not as if Rodrigue cared about such things. Who on earth was he preening himself for? Beside him, Byleth subtly brushed some ash off his shoulder and repositioned his heavy cape. Goddess, why had he worn the damn thing? 

  "It's been too long, your Highness. But try to temper your joy, will you? This is a war, after all." Rodrigue jibed as he bowed to the prince.

  Dimitri huffed, shaking his head. "To say such a thing at a time like this...you have not changed one bit." His respect for the man across from him took some of the venom out of his exasperated words.

  "Don't let looks deceive you. I've had a rough go of it ever since I crossed blades with those traitors in Fhirdiad." Rodrigue did seem haggard, but Dimitri had assumed that was merely the heat of their locale getting to the older man. "When I heard you'd been executed, I rushed there as fast as I could, blind with fury. Once I got there, I was fed some garbage about not being able to see your body. The next thing I knew, I was gripping my blade and-" 

  Felix interrupted his father's impassioned recounting with a loud snort, seeming to bring the older man back to himself.

  Rodrigue gestured to Gilbert, gratitude plain on his face. "Gilbert, you have done well to locate his Highness. I am truly grateful." He then turned towards Byleth with a smile. "And you! I have you to thank, as well."

  "We were all very fortunate." Byleth replied solemnly, bowing to the noble.

  "Well, we are in your debt. I will repay you for this someday, I swear it." Rodrigue promised. "And you, Felix. You have also done well to bring his Highness here."

  Felix glared at his father and said nothing. Dimitri could feel the irritation coming off the younger man in waves. He decided that they had prattled on long enough, finally asking Rodrigue for whatever information he could give them.

  Unfortunately, the older man had precious little to offer in that regard. Gilbert's own information filled in the gaps in his limited dialogue, painting a grim picture of behind the scenes machinations on behalf of Cornelia and the Empire.

  "So that's been the witch's plan from the start. I should have killed her ages ago." Dimitri growled.

  "Your Highness, Fhirdiad is in a terrible state right now. The tyranny is unbearable, and so the rebellions are endless. Refugees starve to death in the streets." Rodrigue looked pained. "If I may speak freely, your Highness...we should change course for Fhirdiad, and take down those traitors before we embark to Enbarr."

  "There's no time for that." Dimitri replied fiercely. "We must annihilate Enbarr before all else."

  "Think this through," Rodrigue implored. "I understand wanting to destroy the Empire and the Emperor. I want that so much it hurts. But which is more important," he queried, "the dead or the living?"

  For one terrifying moment, Dimitri was uncertain of whether he would kill Rodrigue in cold blood. Everything focused down to a white-hot point, the sound of the nearby troops fading to nothing. " Silence. " The once-prince finally rasped, his arms crossed over his chest.

  "No, Dimitri. You will hear me out." Rodrigue said evenly.

  Dimitri hated the older man's calm, just like he had hated Gwendal's. How could Rodrigue of all people do this to him? "Are you asking me...asking the dead ...to forgive that woman?" The blond man snarled incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger in Rodrigue's direction. 

  "No. I would not ask that of you. What I am asking is that you allow us to prioritize the Kingdom capital over the Imperial capital for now." Rodrigue put a hand over his heart. "As Lambert's close and trusted friend, I am confident that he would have advised the same."

  At the mention of his late father, Dimitri saw red. He took a step towards Rodrigue, but halted when he felt Byleth catch his arm. He didn't know why. She was not strong enough to stop him. No one was. "Do not dare to put words in the mouths of the dead." He managed to say, livid though he was. "They are your words alone, even if you borrow their lips. Until I offer up that woman's head, Father will remain a slave to his lingering regret and hatred." Dimitri's voice cracked, the young man all but shouting in Rodrigue's face, "Even now he suffers. It is ceaseless . As we waste time with idle chatter, his suffering continues!"

  Rodrigue sighed, shaking his head. Silence reigned for a moment, every soldier no doubt eagerly hanging on what the lord might have to say next. Dimitri was certain this was more excitement than the rabble had experienced in years. "You are my king." The older man murmured, bowing. "Our king. Wherever you lead, we will follow. But your Highness...there are those who take up their sword in the name of revenge, and yet along the way lose the strength and composure to follow through." Rodrigue's eyes had gone steely. Dimitri felt as though his very soul was laid bare to the older man. "You would do well to bear that in mind."

  Dimitri gritted his teeth, looking away. His eye roved the ashen landscape, illuminated only by the pitchy, writhing flows of lava. Such a tumultuous place…

  Byleth's grip on his arm loosened slightly, making the young man glance down at her. She was looking out as well, scanning the edges of the valley. Always one step ahead. 

  Rodrigue whistled to his horse, drawing Dimitri's attention. "I nearly forgot." The Lord Fraldarius began apologetically, tugging at a securely-wrapped object tied to his saddle. "Take this, your Highness. The time has come for it to be wielded by it's true master."

  The dark-haired man handed the long parcel to the prince, who carefully unwound the cloth to reveal an achingly familiar weapon. "Areadbhar...the Hero's Relic once wielded by my father." Memories of his dignified, strong father rushed to the forefront of Dimitri's mind, flooding him with a wave of heartbroken nostalgia. 

  "The very same. I managed to steal it back from one of Cornelia's underlings in Fhirdiad."

  Felix rolled his eyes. "Understated as ever, Father. It must have been a true struggle to get it back."

  Dimitri clutched the haft of the legendary lance, forcing himself not to break down and weep. Had he truly thought mere moments earlier to cut Rodrigue down without a qualm? "I...I am grateful, my friend." He breathed. 

  Rodrigue simply nodded absently and Dimitri knew it wasn't his face that the older man was seeing.

  …

  "We must save them. I beg of you, your Highness." Dedue never asked for anything . The prince often found himself scolding the other man for his selfless behavior, so his request was immensely troubling. 

  Dimitri immediately went to Seteth and did his best to secure their involvement in this particular maneuver. If he could help it, he would prevent another Tragedy from occurring. 

  Now, to ask the professor. He was certain she would not refuse this task. 

  When she had first come to the academy, Dimitri had feared her lack of emotion was a display of irritation towards his class. But as time went on, he came to realize that her emotions had simply been subdued. Whether due to her mercenary work or other circumstances, their professor appeared to keep herself on a very short leash.

  When Dimitri returned to tell Dedue the good news, Byleth was already with the other young man. Dedue had been haltingly explaining his current state to their professor, reiterating that he was from Duscur and that his sparse brothers in nationality were rebelling. "They seek to reclaim their homeland."

  "A request for aid was sent by Viscount Kleiman to the Kingdom capital and the church." Dimitri started to lay out the scenario so that Professor Byleth would have a clear picture, gesturing overmuch with his hands. "He is the one who rules over that region at present. For now, the lords surrounding the Duscur region have sent their armies to help suppress the uprising. However…" The prince trailed off, grimacing.

  "What is it? Why do you both look so fearful? Do they not have enough men?" Byleth asked worriedly. 

  Dimitri shook his head and he heard Dedue sigh unhappily. "They have sufficient troops, and strong ones at that. Our worry is that there will be more unwarranted death." Dimitri replied. "There have always been many in the Kingdom's army who believe the people of Duscur our foes, and hate them because of it."

  "Your Highness-" Dedue protested.

  "You would think they'd refrain from squashing the rebels out of political expediency, but we doubt that will be the case." Dimitri carried on over Dedue, unwilling to indulge in the other man's self-deprecation at this juncture. "If the Kingdom's army and the rebel forces of Duscur collide…"

  "You fear another massacre." Professor Byleth caught on. Dedue nodded, looking doleful. "What can I do to help?"

  "I am glad you asked, Professor. I have just now received the permission that I requested from the church." Dimitri had known that she would not refuse!

  She raised an eyebrow. "Permission for what?" 

  "I asked the church to deploy our class to help handle the situation." 

  Dedue started, his shock obvious. "So we may go?!" He asked sharply.

  Dimitri held up a hand, quelling his friend momentarily. "Not so fast. We still have a responsibility as students of the academy after all. The only one who can truly make the decision as to whether or not we go is our profess-"

  "We're going." Byleth interrupted him. "Help me gather the class. We leave as soon as possible."

  Dedue bowed deeply. "You have my most sincere gratitude." 

  "And mine as well." Dimitr assured their professor. He had heard the hitch in Dedue's voice and his heart ached. This was the most outward concern Dedue had displayed in his presence and the prince found it incredibly troubling. "Do not worry, my friend." He stated after Professor Byleth had departed. "We will make it in time."

  "I pray that you are right, your Highness." 

  ...

  "Your Highness!" A tower shield was abruptly thrust forward to protect his blind side, arrows pang ing off of the sturdy metal. "Apologies for my late arrival."

  Dedue was not dead. Dedue was not dead . Dedue, sporting new scars, green eyes even more brilliant than Dimitri remembered, alive . 

  The once-prince stared at his former vassal, the man who he was certain had perished five years ago. He wondered momentarily if his hallucinations had grown more fitful. 

  There was no time for them to really talk during the battle to control the Bridge. Of course not. But afterwards, with the sturdy man from Duscur standing before him, Dimitri found himself at a loss. 

  Dedue had never been one for words, the heavily-armored knight simply dropping to one knee in front of Dimitri. "Do not kneel! Explain what happened! I thought you--I was certain you had-" The once-prince floundered to ask his many questions and managed to ruin his sentence, grabbing Dedue's hand and hauling the other man up. " Dedue ." He finally said helplessly, grasping the back of the other man's gorget with shaking fingers. "Why-- How are you here? You died, five years ago!"

  Dedue crushed his forehead to Dimitri's, his smile small but still present. "I was saved by my brothers. Men of Duscur. The ones spared during our class' intervention of their uprising."

  "Those people you were with...they were of Duscur? And they saved you?" Dimitri repeated incredulously.

  Dedue nodded. "Your Highness, I asked that you fulfill your long-held desire, did I not?" His gaze strayed to Dimitri's eye patch. "It would seem some things have changed. Still, allow me to once again act as your shield." He placed a fist over his heart, his terminology blunt and refreshingly sincere. "Please, let me witness your triumph. I want to behold the moment your wish is finally granted."

  "Dedue…" Dimitri was at a loss for words once more, mutely clasping the Duscur man's armored forearm. 

  He had thought he would never see Dedue again in the realm of the living, but here he stood, nervously shifting his weight as if he thought Dimitri would scold him or... dismiss him even! 

  It would seem that some of their other classmates had realized just who the mysterious armored man was. Dimitri could see Ashe breaking into a sprint from across the bridge, Annette in tow.

  "Of course," the prince finally continued, aware that his time alone with Dedue was coming to a close. "And in exchange, I ask that you swear something to me, here and now." He glared ferociously at the green-eyed man, "Do not ever throw your life away again. Understood?"

  Dedue looked taken aback for a moment, and then his expression softened. "Understood, your Highness." He bowed deeply after Dimitri released his arm. 

  " Dedue! " Ashe shouted, obviously thrilled to the core. Annette had already started to cry, her arms unable to reach fully around the large man's torso when she hugged him tight.

  Dedue chuckled, patting her head and accepting Ashe's enthusiastic embrace that gripped his shoulders. "I am glad to see you all." His eyes roved to Byleth, who looked delighted to see him but was clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Thank you for taking care of his Highness in my absence, Professor."

  "It was my honor, Dedue. We are overjoyed at your return." Byleth replied graciously, bowing. 

  Dimitri moved away from the teary reunion, surveying the battlefield in silent contemplation. 

  The once-prince deigned to speak only when he noticed Byleth at his side once more. "Idiots. Embracing death for the sake of that woman ." He snarled about the Imperial soldiers, his fists clenched tight at his sides. Uncertainty took root in his chest, making his next words sound less than convincing. "Truly foolish." Were his troops any better? His allies? They all followed him like lambs to the slaughter. He had been upfront about using them, pragmatic even. But was that pragmatism something to be praised or loathed?

  "What troubles you?" Byleth asked softly.

  Dimitri took a moment to answer, trying to determine indeed, what was troubling him. "I...I don't know."

  "Do you regret killing them?"

  Dimitri bristled at the suggestion, crossing his arms over his chest as he scoffed, "they were just beasts with human faces." He turned his head to look at her, irritated that she would question his resolve. But her eyes bore no judgement, only sorrow. "I had no choice but to kill them, and so I did." Dimitri paused, his resentment fading the more he looked at those sorrowful eyes. " That ...that is all there is to it." He finished, less firmly than he would have liked.

  …

  "Were you reconciled with the reality of battle from your first foray?" Dimitri asked. He wasn't really certain why he would ask such a thing. They had just finished sparring, he had been thanking her for her assistance in teaching some of the monastery foundlings basic swordplay and then this . If anything the professor probably wished for a hot bath and a meal, not to be subject to his princely mewlings. "With...the killing part, I mean." He did not make eye contact, instead focusing on sanding down any splinters that had been forced to the surface of his practice sword. 

  "No. It's never easy." Byleth's voice was firm. 

  "I see."

  "And you?" Professor Byleth asked, sitting beside him and reaching for a fresh sheet of smoothing paper. 

  "No. I do not carry that burden well." Dimitri replied quietly. "I doubt that will change, no matter how many years come and go." He inhaled a bracing breath, squaring his shoulders. "The first time I led on the battlefield, I was sent to quell a rebellion in the west. It was not a difficult fight. The enemy was not well-trained and their morale was low."

  The grim memories called to mind the blind terror he had felt as a frontline commander. He had been fifteen, on the cusp of sixteen or thereabouts. He had no idea what he was doing, all he knew was that he didn't want to die that day. 

  And so he fought mercilessly, mindlessly, killing anything that moved. Dimitri could barely remember Felix screaming at him to stop, stop -

  "A swing of the lance, and your opponent falls. A flash of your blade, and a path opens up. That's the kind of battle it was. Easy, right?" Dimitri murmured.

  The professor's hand landed on his shoulder. "It is never easy." She reiterated. "Why were you in a commanding position to begin with? Not to throw your leadership skills into question, of course, but surely there must have been someone more senior than you."

  Dimitri shook his head. He had asked himself that same question many times. His memory was so hazy in the years following the Tragedy of Duscur that he honestly had no idea how he ended up at the head of a battalion. "I am uncertain, professor. It was at the height of the post-war period, I can recall that much. And I can recall portions of the actual campaign. But my mind...seems to shy away from important details. It is exasperating."

  "War trauma is difficult to manage, even for seasoned soldiers." 

  "I do recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair." Dimitri felt as though he was in a trance. That image was so clear compared to the piecemeal nature of the rest of the battle. "I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter…his mother, a lover? I'll never know." Dimitri put his aching head in his hands. "He was a soldier, an enemy. Someone I had cut down without hesitation. But in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us."

  "A hard truth to discover on the battlefield, but one that needed to be known all the same." Byleth said pragmatically. She squeezed his shoulder, urging him to carry on.

  "We cannot stand idly by and allow anyone to commit senseless acts of violence." Dimitri reasoned, his words muffled by his hands. "Yet, in dispensing what we call justice, we take the lives of cherished family members and beloved friends." He paused, wondering whether he should even continue and speak about what truly bothered him. Byleth's hand remained on his shoulder and the prince drew resolve from her support. "Killing is part of the job but even so, there are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions."

  Byleth was silent for a time and Dimitri kept rubbing his temples, trying with all his might to keep the headache at bay. "I have felt the same way." She finally said softly.

  Dimitri's relief threatened to overpower his sense of propriety, the prince looking back up at his dear professor. "That you feel the same way is...more comforting than you could know." He took her hand in his own, feeling the warmth of it. "Professor, may I speak freely?"

  She nodded, seeming a little confused at how serious he was.

  "When we first met, I thought of you as someone who felt no strong feelings about killing your enemies." Dimitri confessed. "I could never trust someone who kills without batting an eye. My heart won't allow it. But after speaking with you and getting to know you better, I can see you're not like that." He said fiercely, clasping her hand to his breast. "Now I know, with all my heart, that I can trust you. Thank you for that."

  Byleth nodded again and a small smile brightened her face. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat, his blood racing at her nearness, at the way she was smiling-

  He reprimanded himself sharply for his foolish, indulgent thoughts and released her hand.

  ...

  The blood raced in his veins. She was so close, so near. Within arms reach, even. Dimitri wanted to scream with laughter, finally, finally!

  They marched on over the Bridge of Myrddin once more and Dimitri could feel his strength surging. Soon he would have her head to present to his family. Soon, his stepmother, his father, Glenn, they could all rest in peace. Soon-!

  His incensed ramblings to himself grew even worse. Anyone that dared approach him would be treated to a man possessed, talking to people who had long since passed on from this world. Lack of sleep was making him hallucinate Glenn or his father alongside him, their presence disturbing and comforting in equal measure. Dimitri made promise after promise to these silent apparitions, assuring them that he would emerge victorious.

  It certainly caused a significant drop in troop morale, not that such a thing would concern Dimitri. All he cared about was tearing Edelgard's head from her shoulders and removing his oh-so-ambitious stepsister from this plane of existence. Then, he would scour Enbarr from the map, erase it as surely as she and her ilk had erased Duscur. 

  Their meeting on the battlefield would be one to remember. 

  …

  "Is this some kind of twisted joke?! " Dimitri asked incredulously, breathless from his mad laughter seconds before. Staring back at him from the bulk of the Flame Emperor's helm was Edelgard's pale face. He had feared this was the true identity of the fiend since he had found the dagger he gave her, but he had tried so hard to convince himself otherwise...

  She did not answer him and Dimitri leveled his lance, crushing the porcelain face plate beneath his boot with his first stride forward.

  Professor Byleth caught his arm as he stalked by her and he paused momentarily. "Don't be rash, please." The professor said softly. 

  "Rash? Me? I am finally about to avenge the dead and you accuse me of being rash?!" Dimitri snarled, jerking away from her and continuing forward. "I've been looking for you...I'll take your head from your shoulders and hang it from the gates of Enbarr! " He screamed.

  He charged at Edelgard and her soldiers rushed to defend her. So great was Dimitri's wrath that he found it ridiculously simple to strike down the men attacking him, skewering two in one thrust and then slinging his lance at Edelgard with all his might. 

  It buried harmlessly in the wall behind her after grazing her shoulder. Dimitri snapped his teeth in hysterical irritation, nearly frothing at the mouth. The soldiers continued their assault and so he continued his own, slamming one man's face into the stone stairs and then crushing the last soldier's armored skull with one gauntleted hand. 

  He looked up, locked eyes with Edelgard and smiled . Edelgard flinched. Dimitri advanced up the stairs until they were together on the dais, the prince shaking with fury. "Before I break your neck," He hissed at the young woman across from him, "there is one thing I must ask you."

  "Stay out of my way!" Edelgard ordered. 

  Dimitri shook his head. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak. Answer my question. That is all you have left to do." He took another step forward. "Flame Emperor...no, Edelgard . Tell me now, why did you cause such a tragedy?"

  Edelgard flinched again, lavender eyes boring into his own. 

  "You killed your own mother, and yet you haven't even had the decency to stop and consider the reasons behind your actions, have you?!" Dimitri raged, his fists clenched at his sides.

  "I already told you, I had nothing to do with that!" Edelgard protested.

  "It was foolish to think I could reason with a lowly beast ." Dimitri snapped. He heard motion to his left and abruptly two more soldiers were shielding Edelgard. The prince bared his teeth in a fierce grimace and lunged forward just as Hubert appeared in a flash of purple light, the dark-haired man quickly snatching up Edelgard. 

  The Flame Emperor and her retainer vanished.

  Archbishop Rhea's righteous tirade faded to background noise in the wake of Dimitri realizing his folly. 

  She had escaped. Edelgard had escaped . He had played right into her hands, demanded answers first instead of striking her down where she stood and thus allowed Hubert precious extra seconds to rescue her. What a fool he was! His hesitation had cost him his closure, his revenge! Dimitri wanted to scream.

  …

  But not again, never again. He would not allow her to escape so easily.

  " Kill every last one of them! " Dimitri ordered, brandishing Areadbhar and then rushing forward with his troops. Byleth stayed close enough that he was vaguely aware of her presence at all times; flashes of pale green in the corner of his eye. 

  Time and again his lance swung, time and again paths opened up. 

  The battlefield was chaos, a nightmarish cacophony of war cries and armor racket. At some point a fire was started, bringing with it echoes of screams from Duscur. Dimitri's blood pounded in his ears, his headache reaching a new level of splitting agony at the reek of ash and burning flesh. Edelgard, Edelgard…

  The tormented souls of his family clung to him, bony fingers clawing at his throat. Dimitri forced himself onward, storming across Gronder with single-minded intent. He needed her head. They demanded her head. 

  One of the great war beasts lumbered after him and cut off his possible retreat, not that Dimitri planned on turning back. It also separated him from his allies and troops, a fact that should have concerned him. If he had been in his right mind, it probably would have. As such, he barely noticed, his lone eye focused solely on the golden gleam of Edelgard's empirical headpiece. 

  She was surrounded by her own troops. It mattered not. Whether one or one hundred men, it mattered not. Dimitri rushed her guards, impaling three with one jab of his family's Relic. A brittle calm took him, the prince shucking the corpses off the blade and then widening his stance to face her head-on. She waved her guards back, looking resigned. 

  "Stab your chest, snap your neck , smash your head...I will allow you to choose your own death." Dimitri seethed, spittle flying through his clenched teeth.

  "I'm not interested in methods of dying. All that matters is when death takes place, not how." Edelgard replied pragmatically, her axe raised in a defensive position. "And I have no intention of dying today."

  "I'm sure all of the people you've slaughtered so far thought the same!" His calm shattered like glass, the blond man lunged forward. 

  Edelgard lashed out mercilessly as she was forced back, her attacks too random for him to predict. Dimitri endured them, landing thunderous blow after thunderous blow. Madman strength and the voices of the dead in his ears urged him on, their pleas for vengeance spurring him to fight without regard for his own life. 

  The step-siblings stabbed and hacked at one another, their weapons singing through the air with the aggression behind their motions. Edelgard couldn't dodge every attack and she had never been overly sturdy in close quarters sparring despite her armor; it was only a matter of time before Dimitri would kill her. 

  Nausea again, the sick sensation of kinslayer bubbling in his throat. Had he really become such a thing? But then, what did that make Edelgard? They were both monsters at this point, he reasoned, monsters destined to die at each other's hands to bring about their ideal future. 

  Dimitri roared and with one final thrust, Areadbhar pierced Edelgard's side. The Emperor gasped, pausing. Blood began to trickle down the shaft of the lance. 

  The once-prince grinned savagely. "It's over , stepsister." 

  "Just as expected," Edelgard choked, "You're not making my path an easy one." She wrapped her shaking fingers around his lance and took a step back, removing the weapon from her body with no small amount of difficulty. "I must retreat for now. But we'll meet again on the battlefield."

  Like clockwork, her advisor Hubert appeared and swept her into his arms. Dimitri's lance slashed through nothing but empty air, his motions just a fraction too slow to catch the pair before they vanished. 

  The prince whirled around and screamed his frustration to the heavens, launching Areadbhar at the nearest soldier and pinning them to the ground. " You think you can escape, Edelgard?! " He heard a rush of footsteps behind him, but he couldn't even bring himself to give a damn. 

  She got away. Again . 

  Dimitri dug his gauntlets into his hair and pulled , the once-prince so hysterical with despair that he couldn't react properly. Would he never be able to satisfy the dead? Would he never be free of this crushing responsibility, this duty that threatened to leech the life from his body? 

  " I'll kill you, Edelgard! Do you hear me, you witch?! I'll-! "

  His crazed rant was cut short by a blade sliding cleverly between the plates of his armor to bury itself in his side. The once-prince, already badly bloodied from wounds he had not felt, finally lost his balance. He dropped to one knee, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing entirely as the adrenaline that had facilitated his motion utterly deserted him. Dimitri looked up into the wild eyes of his attacker and was momentarily confused. 

  It was the foundling who had begged to join their ranks when they had taken the Bridge. To get revenge on the man who killed my brother , she had claimed. It all became hideously clear to the blond man. He had killed her brother.

  "Have I caught you off guard, your Highness?" The nameless girl jeered, "does it hurt? It's nothing compared to what my brother felt!" Tears started streaming down her face. "You will never be forgiven, you know. I will never forgive you!" She screamed. This young woman stood proudly over his crumpled form and raised her sword once again. "You filthy monster! "

  ...

  The war beasts had taken up a majority of their attention. When the last of them was finally slain, Byleth spotted Dimitri standing alone in the distance. Rodrigue laughed, seeming relieved. "Looks like he's alright. For the moment, at least." He commented, wiping his blade clean on the grass.

  Byleth nodded, her brow furrowing when she noticed a figure all in white on the edge of the field near the prince. The figure darted forward suddenly, there was a flash in their hands, a sword-

  Byleth's eyes widened in panic when Dimitri dropped and she screamed, "Manuela!" The former songstress already had the spell prepared, warping the professor precious feet closer to the woman attacking Dimitri. Rodrigue ran in the opposite direction, whistling for his horse. 

  We won't make it in time , Byleth realized. In despair she cried out wordlessly, a hand outstretched to implore the Goddess even as she urged her exhausted body forward. Spare him, spare him!

  You are so predictable. So willing to give your life for your little ones.

  At a moment's notice. He means everything to me, whole or fragmented. If we lose him...if I lose him...

  Well then. Let's hope you survive this, shall we?  

  Time slowed to a halt, if only for a few precious seconds. Enough for Byleth to get in the way of the young woman's ferocious swing. She could not even raise her own blade to deflect in time, and thus made the decision to take the full force of the blow to her shoulder. Goddess willing, she would prevail.

  The pain was horrendous. The sword was not nearly as sharp as it could have been and as such, tore messily into her shoulder before it lodged in her light armor and robes. Byleth sobbed out a breath of relief despite the agony, the Nosferatu spell crackling to life in her palm. She quickly dropped her sword and instead grabbed the other woman's hilt, preventing her from pulling away with it.

  …

  He had been ready to die, utterly demoralized by Edelgard's flight from their duel. One final stroke of the sword from this unnamed woman (practically a child), and it would be over. Her eyes burned fever-bright with the desire for revenge, just like his own. 

  Her brother must have been so dear to her.

  Dimitri bowed his head and simply waited for the killing blow. For once, the dead were silent. Soon enough, he would be with them.

  " Professor! " 

  The sound of Rodrigue's voice snapped him out of his calm acceptance, the prince flinching and opening his eye again. To his utter bewilderment, Byleth now stood in front of him. Seconds prior she had been clear across the battlefield, how on earth…? 

  She took the blow meant for him to her shoulder and Dimitri gritted his teeth to stifle a cry of dismay at how deep the blade sank. With one hand firmly grappling the crosstrees to keep the young woman from striking again, Byleth snarled, " I will not permit you to take him from me . He is my king, and I will defend him with my life. If you intend to kill him, I refuse to make it a simple task for you!"

  Her free hand slammed palm-first into the other woman's stomach, the explosion of power from the sapping spell staggering her. Rodrigue seized the opening and struck mercilessly from astride his warhorse, cutting the young would-be assassin down where she stood. 

  Dimitri couldn't seem to stir. It was as though he was frozen in one of his many nightmares, unable to react to the horrors he saw. 

  The young girl's vengeful words rang deafeningly loud in his ears, you will never be forgiven, you know. I will never forgive you!

  Byleth was somehow still standing despite the blade in her shoulder, her hands limp at her sides. "Your Highness." She swallowed hard and turned, offering him a wavering smile. It was pitiful , nothing but a shadow of her regular one. Dimitri loathed it. "I'm so glad I..."

  Her legs gave out and she fell to the ground, lifeless. 

  Dimitri found himself able to move again and he lurched forward, gathering her into his arms. His own wounds and weariness faded from his mind as he shouted for Manuela, Flayn, Mercedes, anyone please Byleth don't die! Rodrigue tried to calm his panic to no avail; Dimitri was inconsolable. "I will not lose her! Not again!" He screamed at the man who had been like a second father to him, terror making his voice ragged. "Don't die! Please don't die!" She was so limp, so incredibly pale. "I won't let you, Byleth, please …" 

  His words choked off in his throat and Dimitri pressed his forehead to her own, silently willing her to open her eyes, to say something! Even if she called him a monster, a beast, it would be better than this horrid quiet! 

  You will never be forgiven .

  You filthy monster!

  Tears rose unbidden and for the first time in five years, he let them fall. "Father, Stepmother, Glenn...they all died for me and left me behind. Are you to join the ghosts who shadow my every move?" Rodrigue placed a hand on his shoulder and Dimitri couldn't find it in himself to shrug it off. "This is my fault, Byleth. I...I'm the one who killed you, as surely as though I had wielded the blade." A sob rattled his body and Dimitri bowed his head in grief. 

  "You've got one thing wrong, your Highness." Rodrigue said quietly after a beat. " None of them died for you. Not even Glenn. Rather, they died for what they believed in." The older man gripped his shoulder a little tighter, his words cutting through the fog of Dimitri's grief to strike his very core. "Your life is your own, Dimitri. It belongs to no other, living or dead. You must live for what you believe in, my king."

  Byleth's chest expanded suddenly with a hungry gasp for air, her fingers clawing weakly at the thick mane of Dimitri's cloak. "'Mitri." She slurred out, barely conscious.

  "Be silent ." Dimitri ordered hoarsely. Goddess, ever since the events at Duscur he had not been truly sick, but now he feared he would vomit with relief. She was still alive. He hadn't killed her. She would live. 

  Live for what you believe in .

  Mercedes knelt beside them, her skirt stained with the grass and mud of the battlefield. "Save your strength, my dear professor." She soothed, deftly peeling the layers of cloth and armor away from the wound. "I'll have you fixed up in no time. Flayn, please see to his Highness."

  " Damn me! Flayn, save her !" Dimitri demanded, knocking away the well-meaning hands of the small woman. 

  "Let Flayn..." Byleth whispered.

  "I will accept nothing until I know you are safe!" 

  Lord Rodrigue grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of Dimitri's neck and yanked his head back, unceremoniously dumping the vulnerary Mercedes passed him into the young man's mouth. Dimitri coughed and sputtered, barely managing to swallow without choking on the viscous liquid. " There . That ought to keep you stable until Mercedes can work her magic on your professor." Rodrigue said, giving Dimitri a love tap on the side of his head before releasing him once more.  

  "Rodrigue, I will-" Dimitri tried to stand and failed miserably, getting a little snort of laughter out of Flayn.

  "You will do nothing but be still , your Highness." She scolded, her hands alight with healing magic.

  "I beg of you, waste no power on me until we are certain that she will be alright." Dimitri pleaded. "I... we cannot survive without her."

  Flayn huffed in annoyance and Mercedes laughed softly, though whether at the other healer's attitude with the prince or at Dimitri's own slip of the tongue was anyone's guess. "She will be fine, your Highness. Provided she gets the rest she needs." The soft-spoken young woman assured him. "She is quite weary. The sword went deep."

  "M' alright…" Byleth sounded like she was battling sleep. "Can still...can still...fight..."

  "You can rest, Professor. You can sit and rest ." Mercedes chided. "We must keep her warm during our return to the monastery. Your Highness, forgive my boldness, but-"

  "Take the damn thing." Dimitri cut her off, already fighting with the clasps on his cloak.

  "No no, you are injured as well! I just need you to stay close to her. That way, the two of you can share." Mercedes was as pragmatic as ever. "Your cape is very large, after all."

  The prince marveled that his nearly-dead body still felt the need to flush at her request. "Very well." 

  "Thank you so much!" Mercedes beamed.

  Dedue hovered by Dimitri's side while they waited for the wagon that would carry them back to the monastery. "What am I to do about this?" Dimitri asked, half to himself. 

  "Your Highness?"

  "Had that sword gone just a fraction lower, if that girl had stabbed instead of swung..." Dimitri trailed off, shaking his head. "What a damn fool you are, Professor. Not even our healers could have saved you if you bled out before they arrived."

  "Are you so certain it is the professor who is a fool?" Dedue asked, the query more pointed than it had a right to be. "Your wounds from Edelgard were quite grievous. As though you fought without thinking of defense. Or survival."

  Dimitri wanted to rage at the Duscur man for assuming such ludicrous things, honestly he did. But the words Dedue spoke were damnably accurate. "It should not matter whether I live or die." The prince muttered sullenly.

  "It matters a great deal, your Highness. If I may be so bold, it matters more than you seem to comprehend." Dedue gestured at the destroyed landscape of Gronder Field. "Soldiers and allies fought and died for your beliefs today. Your orders alone mobilize troops and rally legions. You cannot be so careless with your life."

  "I will not sit here and be chastised on mortality by the man who was so eager to throw his own life away for me!" Dimitri spat the words cruelly,  wishing in the next breath that he could take them back. His fingers twisted through his hair in a frantic, nervous gesture. 

  Dedue, to his credit, did not so much as flinch at the outburst. "I am a vassal in service to you, your Highness. One of a knight's many responsibilities is to lay down their life for their ruler. You needed to escape and live on. I am simply a tool to be utilized by your Highness."

  "Your pragmatism grieves me."

  "Your grief is acceptable. Normal, even. You have always been too kind-hearted for your own good." 

  Dimitri couldn't think of a response to that . Kind-hearted? Him? Dedue clearly had no idea of the monster he had become. He stayed silent, musing on his own thoughts. It felt almost as if he had been sleepwalking since the professor's disappearance, but seeing her take that blade for him without hesitation was…

  Dimitri put his head into his hands. " Am I a fool, Dedue?"

  "Pardon?"

  "I've lashed out at everyone trying to help me. I've danced with madness and run myself ragged pursuing Edelgard. I have killed... Goddess , how I've killed." He looked up at Dedue. "Am I a fool?"

  The other man looked uncomfortable. "I am unworthy to judge you as such, your Highness."

  "That's as good as saying yes." Dimitri groaned. 

  When the cart arrived, Dimitri, the professor, and a multitude of other wounded were crammed into it. The ride back to the monastery was subdued. For the first time, Dimitri felt as though everyone was looking at him with reproach instead of fear. And really, how could he blame them? Dedue was right. On his orders alone, soldiers went to war, fought, and died. The orders of a depraved monster had ended so many lives today, all in the name of his mad obsession to separate Edelgard's head from her body. 

  Your life is your own, Dimitri. It belongs to no other, living or dead.

  Rodrigue's words turned over and over in his mind. Dimitri certainly felt like a fool, Dedue's unwillingness to label him as one notwithstanding. 

  The professor was tucked against his side, shivering even in her sleep. Dimitri was not used to her being cold. It seemed wrong, somehow. Despite his own weariness, he struggled to gather her into his lap and then wrapped her securely in the folds of his cloak. 

  Sleep began to tug at him and Dimitri surrendered, too exhausted to put up a fight. He did not wake even when he was removed from the cart at the monastery.

  …

  Byleth kicked her legs back and forth, laughing. On her feet were a set of high-heeled sandals, much taller than the boots she normally wore. "How do you even walk in these?"

  "Years of training, my dear." Manuela tittered. The both of them hadn't seemed to notice the young prince yet. 

  The professor was laying on her back on one of the infirmary beds, her legs up in the air in a strange pose. It was surprisingly juvenile behavior for her. Her strong, shapely thighs were on full display due to the short breeches and patterned hosiery she wore; it was clear that mercenary work had been kind to her. 

  Dimitri cleared his throat, certain that his face was a damning shade of pink. "Professor?"

  Byleth glanced over at him, continuing to smile. "Your Highness! What brings you here?"

  "I, er, I had a question about this month's assignment." Dimitri stammered. "I can come back at another time, of course-"

  "No no, your Highness. Your professor was just curious about my footwear. I promise we're not busy." Manuela assured him.

  Byleth got to her feet and wobbled towards the prince, the intense concentration on her face exceedingly amusing. That is, until she tripped on the edge of the rug and nearly fell flat.

  Dimitri swooped in on instinct, seizing her hand and pulling her into his body to steady her footing. "I do not know if those shoes agree with you, Professor." The sandals gave her enough height to nearly be at eye level with him and she took full advantage of that fact. Dimitri wasn't sure whether he should feel uncomfortable, simply staring back at her. 

  Her form was pressed tight to his own, even closer than when he had been roped into showing her how to waltz. There had at least been a level of propriety during that lesson, but here…

  "I suppose not." Byleth sighed. After a moment, she bent down and started untying the sandals. "Would do me no good to break an ankle off the battlefield, after all." 

  "They're just for fun , dear Professor Byleth." Manuela insisted. "You're allowed to enjoy yourself, after all."

  Without those ridiculous shoes on, Byleth barely reached Dimitri's shoulder. She had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes as usual. The prince's heart thudding in his chest was becoming regular, normal , and he found himself smiling for no reason.

  …

  " Listen to me, your Highness. Even if you don't wish to hear me, all I ask is that you listen." Rodrigue implored. Dimitri did not turn towards the older man, but he did incline his head. "Thank you, your Highness. Now, I will speak plainly, as I always have with you. Dimitri, you were entirely too reckless at Gronder." Rodrigue scolded. "We could have lost you a multitude of times. It was only through sheer dumb luck that we didn't. With all due respect, this obsession you have with Edelgard will absolutely get you killed."

  "I cannot stop until I have her head." Dimitri said wearily. He felt as though all he had been doing since Gronder was repeat himself. "Father, Stepmother and Glenn...none of them can rest peacefully until I present them with the corpse of the one who ended their lives." 

  "I understand your desires, believe me. I miss my son with every fiber of my being. But throwing yourself into harm's way will not bring them back." Rodrigue took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself. "Killing Edelgard will not bring Glenn back, Dimitri. Nor will it bring your father or stepmother back. In the end, all you're doing is making more corpses and the fact of the matter is that...well, the dead are the dead. They don't ' languish in regret and sorrow ', or whatever pretty things we like to say to justify our own actions. They are...dead."

  Unlike at Ailell, Dimitri felt no heated desire to instantly strike Rodrigue down for his words. "The dead-"

  "You must find something to live for, Dimitri. Otherwise, this war is doomed to fail." Rodrigue pressed on, urging, "Leave the dead to their peaceful slumber, far from our troubles."

  Uncertainty wrapped its icy fingers around Dimitri's heart. "What...what could I possibly…" He stumbled over his words, thoroughly distraught. 

  Glenn's own flesh and blood father , demanding that Dimitri take into account the cost that his wild behavior would have on the army and think . It was jarring to say the least, especially considering that in his impetuous youth Rodrigue had always been the one to encourage healthily rash actions. 

  "I thought...I believed I was doing the right thing." The blond man said finally. "Ever since Duscur I have been haunted by the dead, Rodrigue." The truth must have been plain on his face, for Rodrigue looked saddened. "The screams of torment and that smell , burning flesh, I cannot shake it. I have not tasted anything I've eaten for nearly ten years. My sleep is poor and my headaches...incessant." Dimitri wavered momentarily, clenching his fists. "They demand her life, Rodrigue." 

  "The dead are dead, Dimitri. They cannot demand anything." The dark-haired man reasoned. "I understand that this crusade is what kept you alive up until this point, but you must make a choice. Either you can keep piling corpses up for corpses, or…" Rodrigue trailed off, his gaze far away. 

  …

  Byleth finally managed to hobble her way to the stables undetected. She felt thoroughly henpecked, everyone's concern heartwarming and exceedingly irritating at this point. She was only sneaking off for a little while, just to have some peace.

  The ladder to the hayloft was easily managed even with one arm still weakened, and the former professor snuggled down into the slightly-scratchy bedding with a quiet sigh of contentment. 

  Unfortunately, her relaxation was short-lived. Just as she was being lulled to sleep by the patter of rain on the roof and the soft nickering of the horses, she heard the stable door slide open stealthily. 

  Byleth was instantly alert, rolling onto her stomach and peering over the side of the loft. It was Dimitri of all people, someone who should be resting himself! It had stung her pride slightly when he hadn't visited her at all during her recovery, but she had reasoned he was probably having a difficult time recovering on his own end.

  "Here for the pleasant equine company, your Highness?" Dimitri whirled to face her, guilt plain on his features. He had been saddling his horse. Byleth's heart sank. "Ah." She said listlessly, moving to sit on the hayloft ladder. 

  "What do you want?" His voice sounded strained, as though he had been crying.

  "Where are you going?"

  "It doesn't concern you." Dimitri answered curtly.

  "It does." Byleth shot back, attempting to climb down the ladder. Dimitri caught her around the waist and set her on the ground, nothing but a slight wince betraying his wounds from the battle at Gronder. 

  He appeared confused when she slipped past him, then the confusion changed to irritation as she blocked him from cinching the flank billet on his horse's saddle.

  "Get out of my way. Now ." The young man demanded, reaching out to move her.

  "You're going to Enbarr, aren't you?" Byleth challenged. Dimitri flinched back and she knew she had hit the nail on the head. Anger flooded her. Even after everything that had happened, he was determined to throw his life away. "Do you really think that will appease the dead?" The words were sharper than she had intended and the prince bristled.

  "Silence! You have no idea what you're talking about." He said through gritted teeth. "Death is the end. No matter how much lingering regret a person has, after death, they are powerless. They cannot even wish for revenge, much less seek it out." 

  Dimitri folded his arms over his chest, as if to make a wall between the two of them. Byleth loathed when he shut himself off like this. It had felt like they were making such progress and then he had to go and do something reckless . Like try to sneak off to Enbarr. Alone .

  "Hatred, regret...those burdens fall on the shoulders of those who are left behind." His voice rose in volume, "I must continue down this path! I already told you as much! It is far too late to stop."

  "You're wrong! " Byleth yelled.

  The show of strong emotion startled the both of them into brief silence but Dimitri quickly recovered, turning to leave. "Do not waste your breath with some nonsense about how I should move on with my life for their sake!" He spat. 

  Byleth huffed, storming after him out into the rain. "Don't run away from me, Dimitri!" She said fiercely. The tall man stopped in his tracks when she used his first name and she seized her opportunity. "The living need you! Why can't you see that?" I need you, damn it .

  "Those who died with lingering regret...they will not loose their hold on me so easily." Dimitri tilted his face up towards the sky, rainfall beginning to flatten his matted, tangled hair. 

  Byleth simply stood there, waiting for him to explain himself. After a moment, she noticed his face was much wetter than even the light rain could have managed in such a short time. He was weeping . 

  Dimitri finally muttered, "But you seem to have all the answers. So tell me, professor. Please , tell me…" His voice cracked. "How do I silence their desperate pleas? How do I...how do I save them?" He begged pitifully, refusing to look at her. "Ever since that day almost a decade ago, I have lived only to avenge the fallen. Even my time at the academy under your tutelage, it was all to clear away the regret of the dead. It was the only thing that kept me alive . My only reason to keep moving forward." Dimitri confessed.

  He sounded exhausted and broken, weary beyond measure. Byleth's heart ached for him. "Dimitri...rather, your Highness." She said softly, "do you remember what you told me when my father was killed? You told me to figure out what it is that I'm living for. You said that one day my tears would dry, that I would forgive myself as well as him for leaving me. You need to forgive yourself. Take your own advice."

  Dimitri looked as though he was about to retort, but then his expression changed. He simply exhaled harshly, snapping his attention down to the mud that was pooling around his boots. Byleth took a cautious step closer, only just managing to hear his murmured inquiry of, "but then who--or what , should I live for?" 

  The former professor mulled the question over, wracking her brain for something that wouldn't sound like a useless platitude. "Live for what you believe in." She said finally.

  "Have you spoken with Rodrigue?" Dimitri asked sharply.

  "Um, not today?" Byleth was a bit thrown off by his abrupt change in tone. 

  "Never mind it then." Dimitri stared back up at the sky. "A strange coincidence, no doubt." 

  "Your Highness-"

  " Byleth ." He stressed her name when he interrupted, but he still refused to look at her. "I am a murderous monster , my hands stained red with blood. Could one such as I truly hope for such a life?" Dimitri hesitated, the strength of his voice fading again when he asked uncertainly, "as the sole survivor of that day, do I...do I have the right to live for myself?" 

  They were both soaked through from standing out in the rain for so long and Byleth was certain that they made a pitiful sight. She squared her shoulders, then took a deep breath to steel herself. She wasn't sure what else she could do if he pushed her away one more time. 

  Instead of grabbing him, holding him, shaking the life out of him for being so dense , she simply extended a hand. Dimitri stared down at it and for one gut-wrenching moment she feared he would still leave.

  But then the prince yanked clumsily at the buckles of his gauntlet, divesting himself of both armor and glove in one fell swoop before he cautiously accepted her hand. His hand was trembling, damp and freezing to the touch. She laced her fingers with his own, then brought her other hand up to cover them.

  Dimitri looked shattered, lost. "Your hands are so warm...have they always been?" He asked dazedly. 

  "I think you could use some tea and some rest. Maybe someone to talk to?" Byleth suggested quietly. 

  "I...do not wish to be alone." Dimitri admitted.

  "Would you like me to get Dedue or Rodrigue?"

  "No, I...no. Please. Let me stay with you." 

  Dimitri refused to release her hand during their entire trek back to her room. He only parted from her to allow her to begin toweling off his soaking wet hair. 

  "I feel...I feel as though I've just woken up from a deep sleep." He confided from his spot beside the tiny brazier where the water for their tea heated. Byleth did her best not to think about how close his face was to her own. "I don't know what I am to do."

  Dimitri was clearly distraught and scared, the prince wringing his hands over and over in a nervous gesture. His armor and cloak continued to drip on the threadbare rug. Byleth handed him the towel and urged him into the washroom. "Take the armor off and get dry. You'll never warm up if you don't." She instructed gently. "I'll finish making the tea."

  "Armor off?" Dimitri looked at her like she was insane, clutching the towel to his chest.

  "I'll protect you. We're safe here."

  After a few more assurances and some coaxing, the prince finally agreed to strip down to his padded undertunic. Now, his hair tied back, sitting on the edge of her bed with a steaming cup of tea held in still slightly-unsteady hands, he seemed like a different person.

  The only sound in the room for a time was the quiet hiss of water landing on the brazier, as Byleth had hung the prince's heavy cloak over the heat source in a valiant effort to dry it. She could feel his attention on her even while she settled quietly into her desk chair beside the bed. "Drink your tea, your Highness." She reminded him, raising her own cup to him in a makeshift toast.

  Dimitri twitched. "Ah! Of course, I'm sorry. My mind is...it seems to be in a thousand places." He apologized, dutifully taking a sip. That lone blue eye went wide in what Byleth could only assume was confusion. The prince stared at the cup of tea he had just sampled as though he expected it to bite him. "What...what tea is this?" He asked, his voice shaking.

  "Why, what's wrong?" She replied warily. 

  "I...nothing. Nothing is wrong at all." Dimitri took another tentative sip. "It's delightful. It's so, so good." He sounded strangely giddy. "It tastes incredible."

  "Your Highness, I think you've gone too long without sleep. It's just some run of the mill apple blend." Byleth clapped her hands together decisively. "You need rest, and you will have it."

  Once Dimitri had been safely swaddled in the multitude of blankets in her bed and convinced to rest ' just for a moment or two ', Byleth opened one of the many ledgers on her desk and returned to work. Tonight's progress boded well for the prince's recovery. She dared not hope he would fully regain control of himself so soon, but progress was progress all the same.

  …

  His dreams were still fraught with the demands of the departed. He doubted that would ever change. But every time the darkness threatened to consume him, her hand reached out and saved him. Over and over again until Dimitri ceased to dream, and simply slept.

  He awoke to find her slumped at her desk, her cheek resting on an open ledger. Dimitri carefully rose from the bed he had taken over the evening before, doing his best to be quiet. Without the usual weight of his armor, it wasn't nearly as difficult as had feared. 

  The ledger was opened to a page meticulously detailing all the movements of their troops in the past week, as well as calculations for rations. It also included notes in the margins about bowstrings that needed to be replaced, tack and bridles were wearing thin...

  Shame doused Dimitri's body in a cold rush. She had been doing all the logistical work, the work that was his responsibility, alone , and yet she still managed to keep the troops functional. How long had she shouldered his burden? Since she had returned?

  There was a sharp knock on the door, making him jump out of his skin. Byleth stirred and Dimitri lunged for the door latch, intent on shooing off whatever idiot decided to show up on her doorstep--

  Dedue of all people stood there on the stoop, looking positively fit to be tied. When he saw Dimitri, however, his stern expression relaxed slightly. "Your Highness! I-"

  Dimitri slapped a palm squarely in the middle of Dedue's chest and shoved the other man back a step, hurriedly moving outside and then closing the door behind him. "By the Goddess Dedue, have you no common sense?!" The blond man hissed.

  Dedue had the grace to appear perplexed. "I am not certain I follow, your Highness."

  "She is trying to sleep, and you could have woken her up!"

  "I have been searching for you, your Highness. You never returned to your quarters last night. I checked the cathedral and you were not there. Though your horse was still in the stables, I...I feared the worst. I apologize for assuming that you had struck out on your own." Dedue dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, your Highness. I only worried for your safety."

  Dimitri felt like the world's smallest person. Dedue had probably been frantic, and there was so much ground for him to cover when searching the monastery. "Dedue, no, I should be the one apologizing. Will you permit me to explain myself?" 

  "What could there be to explain? You are, as you have pointed out numerous times to me, a grown man. Perfectly capable of being on your own." Dedue said stiffly, "It is simply my overprotective tendencies."

  "Dedue, please . I must speak with you on this matter candidly." Dimitri seized the other man's arm and guided him to a nearby bench. "I...I feel as if I've awoken . Everything is brighter, somehow. More clear." Dimitri was frustrated by his inability to articulate, his hands clenched on his thighs while he struggled to find the right words. 

  "You have not removed your armor for anything besides brief cleaning in months. What has happened?" Dedue asked worriedly. Of course, that would be the thing he noticed.

  "Last night, I was certain I would be leaving for Enbarr." Dedue's gauntlets creaked and Dimitri held up a hand to stave him off. "I know I am a fool, I am plainly aware. Refrain from scolding me until I am finished, I beg of you." Dimitri was almost entertained by the heavy sigh Dedue heaved. "Rodrigue said many things to me. Much of which I was not prepared to hear. I departed his presence abruptly, conflicted." 

  "You truly would have gone to Enbarr alone?"

  "Had Byleth not been napping in the hayloft...yes, I believe so." Dimitri admitted. "She used my name , Dedue, and followed me out into the rain so she could knock some sense into me. These last few months I have not displayed very princely behavior to friend or foe. I have frankly been miserable to be around. But she-"

  "Your Highness, our professor only has what is best for you in mind. Whatever she said to you, I am certain it was not meant in a cruel manner." Dedue said worriedly. "Did she offend you, your Highness?"

  "No no, nothing like that." Dimitri waved off the other man's concern. "I needed what she said. Just as I needed what Rodrigue said." He muttered ruefully, "To be entirely truthful, I was probably in great need of a stern rap on the head."

  "I had considered it, but I feared your skull might damage my axe."

  Dimitri burst out laughing. He had nearly forgotten what his own laughter sounded like. Dedue smiled after a pause, the large man's relief plain on his face.

  "Enjoying yourselves?" Byleth asked from her doorway, yawning widely post-query. She stretched and Dimitri found his eye straying to the section of bare skin at her hip that the motion revealed. His laughter petered out and he abruptly felt embarrassed for some reason. Surely , he wasn't-

  "I am glad that his Highness was in your custody last night, as opposed to Imperial binds." Dedue said, standing and offering their former professor a deep bow.

  She smiled at Dedue, giving him some modest reply, Dimitri was certain. He didn't actually hear what she said, his attention wholly on that smile…

  ...

  Dimitri bolted pell-mell all the way back to Jeritza's quarters, terrified that he would not make it in time. He cursed his sense of duty furiously as he ran; damn him for not being able to delegate! 

  Professor Manuela would be alright, Hanneman had assured him of that fact. But if something had happened to the others because he hadn't been there to help, if something terrible had happened just like in Duscur-

  Seeing all of his classmates whole and hearty at the top of the stairs was nearly enough to make his knees give out. Dimitri was literally dizzy with relief, taking hold of one of the bookshelves to steady himself. 

  The professor instructed the other students to transport Flayn and the mystery girl to the infirmary, then turned to him with a worried, "What happened?"

  "Professor Hanneman says she'll be fine." Dimitri rattled off the information he had been given, "She had been wounded, but he expects that she'll make a full recovery. The monks are swarming the infirmary as we speak." He grimaced when he heard a splintering noise, relaxing his grip on the bookcase slightly. "I apologize for my posture, Professor. I was so overjoyed upon seeing you all safe and sound, I...I felt weak."

  Professor Byleth shook her head and smiled . "It's alright, your Highness. It was a difficult fight, believe me. You had every reason to be concerned. But we're all accounted for."

  He had never seen her smile before. Dimitri was flabbergasted. She had a lovely smile. "That expression is...could you make it again, Professor?" She obliged after a moment of confusion, smiling at him. The first time he had witnessed her displaying emotion, and it was beautiful . "I don't think I've ever seen your face like that."

  "What, smiling?" Professor Byleth pursed her lips, obviously thinking hard. "Hmm, I guess not. I don't know. I feel like it comes easier now for some reason? When I was a mercenary, life was hard. Not many opportunities for smiles."

  "I suppose that makes sense." Dimitri allowed. "You should do it more often, though! You have a wonderful smile."

  "Do you think so? How strange. I've never really thought about it." Byleth admitted. "Is that a thing I should concern myself with?"

  "Only if it pleases you! If not, simply forget I said anything. I would hate it if you felt forced to smile for my sake." Dimitri felt like he had committed some sort of blunder, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I am just not used to seeing you display emotion. It was a...a novel experience."

  "Oh?" Professor Byleth tapped her chin in thought and then startled the prince by sticking her tongue out at him. "Perhaps you should pay more attention, your Highness."

  "Ah, I apologize. I've forgotten myself and come dangerously close to teasing you!" The prince laughed, thoroughly embarrassed with his own actions. "Forgive my impropriety, professor. I was merely caught off guard. I've never seen you look so happy before. It's downright mesmerizing."

  "I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you. I'll try harder to smile for you. For the class." 

  "Oh! What are we doing?! We must hurry and share the good news with Seteth!" Dimitri exclaimed, flustered that he had allowed himself to get so very sidetracked. "We haven't a moment to lose, make haste!"

  …

  He threw Byleth bodily, watching in barely-concealed awe as she arced through the air to land gracefully on her feet. She rushed him and Dimitri easily knocked her blade aside with his lance. But she didn't stop like he anticipated. Instead, she let her sword go and slammed her whole body into his.

  Dimitri staggered, only to discover her boot behind his own. Byleth hooked his ankle and they both went down with a mighty crash! . Dimitri coughed, the wind knocked out of him by a combination of the impact and his armor.

  A wooden blade slid beneath his chin.

  "Do you yield?" 

  Of course. Byleth fought like a mercenary. She used every resource she had at her disposal, not just her sword. She had never managed to get the upper hand and floor him though, that was new.

  "Never." The blond man panted grimly. "You'll have to kill me." 

  She leaned in closer as she started to laugh and that was when Dimitri noticed that her breast bindings must have come undone during combat. He froze, his gauntlets digging into the sand beneath him. Her clothes were a mess from their sparring, as was her armor. He could look down the tunic beneath her mail with ease. 

  Numerous nights of his youth at the Officer's Academy had been spent engaging in hands-on musings about his dear professor's body. Back then, Dimitri had pragmatically chalked it up to a combination of his overblown strength and pubescent hysteria. 

  He currently had no such explanation for why he was so fixated on the press of his former professor's unfettered bosom against his breastplate. 

  " ...Highness? Your Highness? Are you alright?" She was speaking to him.

  She was speaking to him . Dimitri jerked his face up, certain he was bright red. Byleth's expression bordered on concerned, the training sword discarded off to the side as she hovered over him. 

  "Did you hit your head? I know all my weight landed on you." She continued worriedly.

  "Ah, yes. Just a little rattled. Apologies." Dimitri tried to play it off, mustering up a weak chuckle. She sat back on his hips, seeming satisfied with his response. Dimitri's breath hitched in his throat at the subsequent pressure on his codpiece.

  "I didn't think I'd knock you over!" Byleth cheered, raising her arms over her head in victory. 

  Dimitri closed his eye, his fingers scrabbling pitifully in the sand until they closed upon the haft of his sparring lance. He swung the lance as if he was going to break every rib she had, but at the last moment he ground to a halt. The shaft of the lance tapped her ribs and Dimitri seized a handful of her chainmail, dragging her down. "Checkmate, Professor." He breathed, flipping his lance so the padded blade was poised to punch into the base of her spine. 

  Byleth squeaked, wriggling against his body and managing free up one of her arms. "Not so fast!" She exclaimed, her eyes still alight with mirth. "I've got my magic, after all." Her open hand glowed with power directly beside his remaining eye.

  "True enough." Dimitri allowed. "You are indeed versatile, Professor." Having her this close was intolerable , yet he kept his black gauntlet tightly fisted in her loose mail shirt.

  "I celebrated my victory too early. I'll do better next time." She promised. 

  "See that you do. We cannot lose you." Dimitri replied curtly. "On my end, of course, I'll have to be more wary of mercenary footwork."

  "Yes, my fancy footwork has been the downfall of many foes!" Byleth said proudly, "You could say it... brings them to their knees ."

  Dimitri couldn't help the bark of exasperated laughter he let out, which set off her own giggles. "Goddess, that's an awful one. You need to stop spending time with Alois." 

  "What?! His puns are great, I won't hear anything else on the matter." The professor scolded, still snickering as she got to her feet and dusted off her hosiery. She extended a hand and Dimitri accepted without thought, allowing himself to be hauled upright. "Oh, I'm sorry. We got your armor all sandy."

  "It's quite alright. It was due for a cleaning anyways." Dimitri assured her, brushing some of the grime off his cuisses. "Perhaps it is concerning for me to think this way, but I no longer fear an attack from every side. Thus, I can remove and clean my armor relatively peacefully." Thanks to you . She smiled up at him and Dimitri caught himself just as he began leaning in. He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er, be certain to rest your shoulder. We may have undone some of your healing." 

  The prince left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow, somehow managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, a rarity in and of itself. Normally he couldn't so much as attempt to move from point A to point B before Gilbert or Dedue descended upon him.

  Dimitri locked his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

  He ached and it certainly wasn't from exertion. The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of their sparring, of Byleth sweaty and smiling down at him like he was the best thing she had ever seen. 

  Goddess , he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on her. All over her. Repeatedly. Unclothed .

  Dimitri bit down on his index knuckle, teeth meeting armor with a dull click . It had been over five years since he had even deigned to think of such things. He was trembling, he realized dimly. His hands were clumsy and suddenly unfamiliar with the buckles and pins on his armor, as though it was the first time he had attempted to undo them. 

  This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. Rather, it recalled to clarity memories of lying sleepless in this very room, working himself into a proverbial lather. The tension he suffered from in his younger years was unbearable at times, and he had sought any way to relieve it if his grueling training failed to exhaust him. 

  Now here he was, a fully-grown man floundering to tear himself out of his armor that he might surrender to his libidinous urges once again. Dimitri couldn't even muster up the will to feel shame at what he was about to do. All he could think about was her healing him, smiling at him, nearly dying for him , her shouting his name and pursuing him when he stormed out...

  Dimitri worked the laces on his placket loose and sloppily licked his palm. Goddess , he was a sinner and a fool.

  …

  "Wait. Do you hear that?" Byleth asked just before they reached the main hall. Her hand left his own and Dimitri mourned the loss before he could stop himself.

  He paused, his brow furrowed. "Hear what? Everyone in the hall?" 

  "No no, not that. I hear...something else." She turned and ducked into the stairwell, beckoning hurriedly for Dimitri to follow her. "Listen."

  Dimitri obliged gamely, cocking his head and straining to ignore the dull roar from the ballgoers. After a moment, he did hear something. "Is that...singing?" He whispered. Byleth nodded, already halfway to the second floor. 

  Dimitri followed behind, feeling...odd. The song was haunting in its melody, familiar and yet not. He knew that his mother had died of the plague too soon after he was born for him to have any true memory of her, but the lonely sound echoing in the stairwell made him wonder if there was something important he was forgetting. Something precious, lost to time itself. Maybe he wasn't even the one who had forgotten it, but he still longed to recall what it was. 

  When they reached the last landing before the third floor, Byleth motioned for him to stay put while she went on ahead. Dimitri watched her go, highly entertained by the way she slunk up the stairs on all fours as though she were a cat.

  She moved out of sight and the prince waited anxiously, all the while hearing that song lilt through the air. 

  When Professor Byleth returned mere moments later, she sat on the bottom step at the landing and patted it, as if encouraging Dimitri to take a seat. "I'd like to listen a little while longer. Care to join me?" 

  The prince hiked up his parade breeches and sat one step above her own, gesturing to his lengthy legs when she raised an eyebrow. "Who is singing, Professor?" He queried.

  "It's Lady Rhea." Byleth murmured. She looked strangely dreamy, shifting over to lean against his leg. "She's on the Star Terrace."

  Dimitri hummed in acknowledgment, not minding in the slightest that he was being reduced to a piece of furniture. Best that he steal every carefree moment he could.

  He could not distinguish any words in the song if they existed. Rhea's voice was exquisite; It was as if she sung to the Goddess herself. Dimitri started nodding off despite his best efforts, body and mind soothed by the gentle melody. 

  The notion struck him that this was as close to truly pious as he had ever felt in all his years. Dimitri was not a man of prayerful reflection. Despite all of Ferdinand's enthusiasm about nobility leading the masses in worship of the Goddess, she always seemed so far away when Dimitri bowed his head. 

  But here of all places, sprawled out on well-worn carpeted steps with his dear professor slouched against his shin, Rhea's song drifting ethereally through the air...Dimitri caught himself fancying that the Goddess was close enough to reach out and touch.

  Byleth finally yawned widely, rubbing her eyes. "Suddenly I am exhausted. We really must retire." She mumbled. 

  "I agree. You have had quite a night of it." Dimitri got to his feet and stretched languidly, then offered her his hand. "May I walk you to your quarters, Professor?"

  ...

  Edelgard lay crumpled before them, the purple miasma of foul magics dissipating from her form. Dimitri hesitated, Areadbhar hanging loosely from his hand. "El." He rasped, voice destroyed from their pitched battle. 

  She looked up, her eyes meeting his own. There was no fear in those eyes even as the prince slowly advanced, only calm indifference. 

  He held out his hand. "El, please . It's not too late." He implored, "I would see that strong future you wish for, joined with my own to make all of Fódlan a better place." Edelgard smiled tiredly up at him, one of her hands sliding behind her back while the other stretched to reach him.

  Dimitri was too close to avoid the dagger she threw. He could barely find the strength to lift Areadbhar as it was, gracelessly shoving the point of his lance into her gut as her dagger penetrated his chest. There was a moment where the two of them simply stared at each other.

  Then, the Emperor slumped forward. It would seem that the dagger Dimitri had gifted her so long ago had failed to cut her a path in the end. The King grunted in pain as he took hold of the hilt, jerking the blade free and letting it fall where it may.

  The knife hit the ground with a hollow clang! , the sound reverberating sharply in the stillness. Dimitri heard motion behind him and he struggled to free Areadbhar before he was attacked again. 

  A familiar head of pastel green hair was ducking beneath his arm before he could finish the motion. The young man sagged into her, releasing his family Relic. "My King." Byleth said softly, reverently, a hand pressed to his breastplate to steady him. 

  Dimitri groaned, inhaling deeply and staring upwards in a vain attempt to fend off his tears. Edelgard was dead. After years upon years of torment, after piling up corpses and falling prey to his darkest desires, he had still emerged victorious. 

  He placed a shower of kisses upon the crown of Byleth's head, half-delirious with a combination of sorrow and joy. "We've done it. Byleth, we've done it." He breathed. Tears began to dampen her hair. "By the grace of the Goddess, we have done it."

  Byleth just held him silently, letting him sob. Everyone he had lost, all the souls that haunted him; Dimitri finally released the burden of responsibility and grieved for them properly. He mourned his stepmother, Glenn, his father, every life lost in the tragedy of Duscur. Even Edelgard found her way into his sorrow. 

  He mourned them, and then he let them go. 

  Dimitri crouched stiffly beside Edelgard's body and reached out, closing her eyes. "Be at peace, El." He whispered, his face damp with tears.

  Byleth's hand rested on his shoulder. She was clearly exhausted, the normal rush of warmth from her healing barely a flicker. Still, it was sufficient to patch the wound left from Edelgard's final attack. "Would you like to pray for her?" 

  Dimitri bowed his head. "I have not prayed in many years, Professor." He rasped. "Not since before the Tragedy. I...I have always been far from the Goddess, especially for a noble of such high breeding."

  "I'll guide you." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm no old hand, but I sat through enough of Seteth's lectures to know the gist. We can do it together."

  Dimitri covered her hand on his shoulder, nodding mutely. 

  Together .

  …

  Between his official coronation, Byleth's acceptance of the archbishop position, and the preparations to begin rebuilding the new Fódlan, Dimitri went months without seeing his dear professor or classmates. Many letters were exchanged, formal and informal alike finding their way to his desk.

  Dimitri was particularly amused to find out that Seteth had proposed to Ingrid mid-battle, the wyvern knight apparently shouting a declaration of eternal love and faithfulness while lance-deep in a foe. 

  Flayn had seen the whole thing, her recounting a little more embellished than Seteth's dry report. If Dimitri was to believe her claims, lily petals had cascaded from the Goddess herself to swirl around the two lovers on the battlefield. The wild tale made him smile, even while he felt a pang of jealousy. That Seteth and Ingrid could find time for love even in the chaos of war…

  Byleth was slated to attend a planning forum held at the castle later that month. The former Alliance leaders had all agreed to meet in the Fhirdiad palace and go over the terms of the amicable Alliance annexation. Dimitri was looking forward to it, even though he loathed gatherings like this. Too much nattering on, trying to soothe ruffled feathers while outside his kingdom was barely held together with a wish and a prayer. He understood the importance , of course. His training had never been lax in any area. He knew exactly why he needed to do this. 

  If he was being honest with himself, he had called for this meeting with selfish reasons in mind. As the head of the Church of Seiros, Byleth was duty-bound be present at certain events to ensure stability and fairness. Dimitri knew that there was no other way to inconspicuously tear her from her current mountain of responsibilities as archbishop. He felt guilty, but at the same time he knew he couldn't say what he needed to say if he was confined to a letter, if only because it could be intercepted or stolen far too easily. Dimitri needed to see her. He needed to have those warm, calloused hands in his own when he finally …

  Well, he was getting ahead of things again.

  The ring sat in its tiny little box inside his boudoir for months. Dimitri had happened across it while going through all the things Cornelia had pilfered from his father's belongings. The prince-turned-king had no real eye for baubles or quality, but he felt as though he was familiar with the piece and had called upon Rodrigue to verify the legitimacy of his faded memory. Instead of being a visit solely dedicated to horseback rides, appraisal and drinking tea, Lord Fraldarius had surprised him by getting misty-eyed. 

  "I wish your father could see this. See you , Dimitri." Rodrigue had held the ring delicately between two white-gloved fingers, letting it catch the light just so. "For all the darkness of your past, your future is remarkably bright." He had smiled fondly up at Dimitri, his eyes clouded with memories. "It was your birth mother's, given to her by your father. An heirloom of the royal family. I'm certain your professor will love it."

  …

  The tables were ridiculously long when they were all lined up in a row as one massive buffet in the ballroom. Tradition dictated the placement, demanding that the king be at the high end of the table and removed from his guests. Dimitri stroked his chin, then sighed and moved one of the servants aside. "We are not doing this." He said firmly, hoisting the last table overhead and heading towards the dais.

  "Your Majesty please! " The servant floundered after him, helpless to halt the king's forward motion. 

  Dimitri moved the tables up and closer together, ending with something a bit more square versus the long rectangle they had been. "We will need different tablecloths…" he mused, staring at the polished wood. An idea struck him and he quickly turned to the servant who had been hovering nearby. "Go to the seamstress who is on the corner by the apothecary. Tell her we need-" The king paused, using his arms to measure the table length. "-three yards times...er, twelve tables." Due to his lone eye, his depth perception had taken a bit of a nosedive. Counting stationary objects was always an interesting process. "All different colors, hemmed. I have no preference for material. I understand that we are recovering. Reward her handsomely for the expediency of her work." 

  Once the servant had departed, Dimitri set to loosely arranging the chairs with the assistance of two other maids. He knew it was unbecoming for the king to be performing such mundane tasks, but he also did not care one jot about the opinions of others.

  Preparations were in full swing. Dedue was slated to arrive tomorrow with the freshly-titled Archbishop Byleth, as were the former leaders of the Alliance. Numerous of his old classmates were amongst the ranks; the new Dukes of Gloucester and Aegir in particular were bound to be wildly entertaining. Dimitri made a mental note to seat them beside each other.

  He had sent Dedue to escort Byleth for a reason. Though their primary enemy was gone, Fódlan was far from sorted. Dimitri knew that the man from Duscur would fight tooth and nail to secure their former professor's safety, should the need arise. Whether brigands, bandits or fiendish mages, he put all his faith in his loyal vassal. It was all he could do, really. It pained Dimitri immensely that he couldn't go to fetch her himself, but there was no justification for such casual endangerment of the last surviving member of House Blaiddyd. 

  He feared he might slide into depression again if he wasn't allowed to wander for much longer. Though his self-imposed isolation had been grim and agonizing to survive, he found himself longing for the freedom he had felt while he haunted the highways. Now it was always, " your Majesty we must go with you ," or " you cannot cavort about the countryside unsupervised ." A truly terrible fate. 

  Rodrigue had only been able to visit him that one time in the span since they had defeated Edelgard, but the dark-haired man had taken the new king out for a lengthy, grueling horseback ride. The Lord Fraldarius always seemed to understand Dimitri, with or without words. 

  …

  "We had to fix the sections of wall destroyed during the riots, but with the help of House Riegan's masons it was done in no time." Dedue continued pointing out the repairs that had been made, Byleth following along gleefully. It had been weeks since she was able to leave the monastery for this long. She almost felt guilty about leaving all the paperwork behind.

  Almost.

  When she had asked to enter the city on foot sans her entourage, Dedue complied without question. The two of them meandered in relative anonymity, Dedue giving her a tour of sorts as they went. 

  A manservant wearing the King's livery caught Byleth's attention and she watched curiously as he struggled to carry an armful of what appeared to be different types of cloth. "Dedue, that man…" Byleth trailed off, leaving Dedue's side and rushing forward to catch the cloth that slipped from the servant's grasp.

  "Oh! Thank you miss, I was certain I would sully them." The man said, throwing her a grateful grin over the top of the bolts still in his arms. 

  "It was no trouble, can I help carry some of these for you? I'm on my way to the palace myself as it is."

  "Ah, you must be one of the new scullery maids!" The man exclaimed, seeming relieved that she wanted to help. Byleth barely kept from laughing aloud, thanking the Goddess that her traveling attire was far less ornate than anyone would expect from an archbishop. "I know his Majesty put out a call for more positions, what with the big meet involving the Alliance folks and all." 

  "I imagine it's been quite the storm of preparations." Byleth allowed, carefully transferring half the cloth bolts to her own arms.

  "Your imagination serves you well. And his Majesty, bless him, is not a hands-off man. He's ordered for new tablecloths, the tables are to be arranged differently...it's strange, and I know people will talk, but I am glad he's taking steps to improve relations with the high and mighty." The servant lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Why, I've even heard that the new Archbishop herself will be in attendance to oversee the rulings! Can you believe it?" 

  "We live in exciting times." Byleth agreed.

  Dedue appeared out of the marketplace crowds beside her, looking a little annoyed. "Your Grace, please do not wander off." He chastised. "His Majesty would not forgive me if something were to happen to you, especially on his own doorstep."

  "I understand. I apologize, I assumed you saw me when I ran ahead."

  The servant beside her started at Dedue's voice, struggling to bow even with his arms full. "Knight-Captain Dedue! You've returned!" Dedue simply nodded as the rest of what he had said seemed to catch up with the other man. "Wait, did you just call her your Grace ? But I thought that..." He trailed off, going pale. "Oh Goddess, are you-?! "

  Byleth put a finger to her lips and gave the man a wink.

  …

  Dimitri couldn't stop pacing . Back and forth, back and forth, he worried he would wear a track in the ballroom marble. Byleth's entourage had arrived hours ago with the news that the Archbishop and Dedue had gone for a bit of a jaunt around Fhirdiad. 

  Which was entirely acceptable, of course. Absolutely. No doubt she wished to see how the people fared, how the rebuilding was coming. 

  Dimitri sighed heavily. At this rate, the servant would be back with the new tablecloths by the time she-

  The door at the opposite end of the ballroom was pushed open and Dedue strode in, moving to hold the door for the two people following him. One of them was the manservant who had been sent to get the tablecloths he had commissioned the day before, and the other…

  Dimitri realized abruptly that he was not prepared for this. 

  When folk spoke of absence making the heart grow fonder, he had thought they were simply waxing poetic. But seeing her again made him want to do something ridiculous .

  Like sprinting clear across the ballroom in a highly undignified manner ( Dedue hurried to take the bolts of cloth she was holding ), watching her face light up in excitement as he went. 

  Like picking her up and spinning her around, a deep laugh finding its way out of him at the sound of her own peals of mirth. 

  Like hugging her tightly after the fact, hearing her murmur in his ear that she had missed him. 

  Dimitri rested his forehead against hers and held her for longer than was appropriate, especially if all he was doing was greeting a dear friend. But she made no move to leave his embrace, a fact that stirred hope within him. 

  Dedue finally cleared his throat with an awkward grunt. "Your Majesty?"

  "Thank you for getting her here safely, Dedue." Dimitri said sincerely.

  "Of course, your Majesty."

  "We brought your tablecloths!" Byleth added brightly. "Where would you like them?" She was wearing the Blue Lion brooch again, the one that Dimitri and his classmates had gifted to her all those years ago. The sight filled him with a strange pride.

  "Ah! Yes, of course. We have the tables already prepared, we're making it a bit more personable this time." Dimitri explained, gladly accepting the fabric. "I'd like the blue for my own table, naturally!"

  …

  The meetings began midmorning the following day and lasted into the noon of the day after. Much was said. Grievances were aired among the lords, hatchets buried and a multitude of trade agreements mingled with fealty declarations exchanged hands and signatures. It all went relatively smoothly, thanks to Byleth's level-headed presence and Dimitri's own willingness to compromise for the sake of a better future. 

  It certainly helped that before Claude had departed on his grand quest, he had entrusted Failnaught to the church. No doubt that was why he had done it in the first place. Claude was not a man to cast resources away on a whim, and Failnaught was the sacred Hero's Relic of his house. A powerful display if nothing else, and a symbol of his faith in the new Archbishop. He must have known the other lords would fall in line, with or without him there to browbeat them.

  The Archbishop sighed heavily once the last carriage had departed down the long drive and out the gates. "I'd say job well done. My father would say that a drink is in order."

  Dimitri chuckled. "It is not even three o'clock, your Grace." 

  She waved him off, "psh, don't call me that. No one is here now."

  "But you insist on calling me Majesty, do you not?"

  "That's a little different-" Byleth began to protest, laughing when he caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I mean, you're the King!"

  "Truly? What other wonders have I missed out on?" Dimitri teased. "Next you'll say that I've solidified fractured lands and the people have dubbed me a savior king."

  "Not alone! " Byleth protested, still laughing. "I saw you almost go after Ferdinand. Let the poor boy talk about tea in peace."

  "Between he and Lorenz chattering about new leaves in their trade contracts, I was lucky to get a word in edgewise!" Dimitri groaned. "I don't understand how they keep it all straight. If I have tea that isn't that apple blend, it tastes like nothing but hot water and grass clippings. I suppose my palate isn't nearly as refined as theirs." He shrugged, his smile a little more rueful now.

  Byleth studied his features in the waning light of afternoon, concluding that his hair being pulled back from his face suited him quite well. He looked away when she complimented him, but he seemed very pleased. 

  "Do you really think so? Felix told me I either needed to take it all off, or tie it back. He feared for my ability to see. He did not say that, of course. You know Felix." Dimitri tugged at a shaggy section of blond hair that dangled over his eyepatch. "I'm afraid I am not the best barber. Sharp things close to my face alarm me more than they should." He said with an embarrassed shrug.

  Byleth nodded in understanding, taking his hand once more and twining their fingers together. Deep down, she knew this was improper behavior, but when it came to Dimitri her propriety seemed to retreat.

  Dimitri inhaled sharply, and then his other hand covered her own. "Your Grace," he began, but quickly corrected himself, "I'm sorry, Byleth . I have...there is something I...er. I would like to ask you something, if I may." He stammered. 

  "Of course, your Majesty." Byleth replied quietly. 

  "I...have you ever considered...that is to say, would you ever consider a...um, a-an alliance between the church and the Kingdom of Faerghus?" Dimitri asked all in a rush, his hands trembling around her own.

  Byleth's brow furrowed, the young woman puzzled by his strange behavior. "You already know that you have the full backing of the Church of Seiros, Dimitri."

  Dimitri looked positively frazzled when she used his name instead of his honorifics. "No, not...like that." He muttered awkwardly. "I-I meant...well, I meant…" The blond closed his eye, swearing under his breath as he released Byleth's hand and started groping in the side pocket of his mantle. "I had everything planned, but isn't that how it always is. Blast, where did I put the damn thing?!" He shook his cape aggressively and a small, unassuming box bounced off his sabaton, hitting the floor with a quiet thunk . 

  The king hastily scooped up the box, brushed it off, and then took her hand once more. Byleth's heart leaped into her throat. 

  "I would love to claim that I am doing this for Faerghus or Fódlan and not myself. I would love to be able to say that I only think of my country and what could better it, but that is not the case." Dimitri's tone was incredibly serious. "I am a wretched man, selfish and stubborn and so, so very greedy. And yet to me, you have always been the one who guided me so kindly. My ally through all. My beloved…" he paused thoughtfully, a wistful smile making its way to his face. "Yes. My beloved."

  Having settled on a term, Dimitri pressed the box into her hands. Byleth fumbled with the lid for several tense seconds as he stood there silently. When she finally managed to get it open, Byleth's eyes widened. Nestled in blue velvet that was faded with age, shining in the light of the afternoon sun, was an absolutely stunning ring. 

  She was rendered speechless, just staring down at the open box.

  "Please, I beg of you, say something." Dimitri implored hoarsely. "If you do not wish to accept it, please just tell me. If so, I will face the truth and walk away." He sounded defeated even as he said it, like he assumed she was about to turn him down.

  "No no! That's not it at all, I swear!" Byleth exclaimed frantically, her fingers burrowing into her waistcoat pocket. She pulled out the ring that her father had given her mother and motioned for Dimitri's hand, carefully placing the far less opulent item in his gloved palm. 

  Dimitri went stock-still. Byleth could feel her cheeks flushing even as she smiled at him.

  ...

  "What is this?"

  He felt like a fool even as he asked, of course he knew what it was. It was a well-worn, delicate band of silver. A ring. She was giving him a ring.

  She was giving him a ring .

  His eye flew up to meet her own, and he saw how brightly she was smiling at him. "I love you, Dimitri. Will you marry me?" She asked softly. "And I'm not asking simply to display a unified front from the church and the kingdom, I promise. I am asking because you are the person that I love."

  "I am the...you love me?" Dimitri did not mean to sound quite so incredulous. He was having a difficult time mastering himself; all he wanted to do was shout his joy from the palace rooftops! She loved him. She loved him . She asked him to marry her! "I...yes, yes of course! I accept! Gladly!" He continued, certain he was grinning like a fool. "Let us exchange them, shall we?" 

  "Absolutely! Here, give me mine back for a moment, and then you take yours out of the box-"

  After several seconds of laughter and floundering, the Archbishop and the King managed to properly wear each other's rings. Byleth's ring looked almost ridiculously fragile on Dimitri's hand, the small flower set with pink and purple gems appearing as though it was made of gossamer. 

  Dimitri cared not, holding her hands once again. They were warm, calloused, just as he remembered them from the very first time she had offered him her hand all those years ago. "These strong hands that have saved me countless times…" Dimitri mused, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "Thank you, my beloved. For rescuing me, pulling me back from the brink with your kind, warm hands. May they cling to my own forevermore." He said fervently.

  Her blush went to the roots of her hair. It was immensely becoming on her. "Always." She promised. Her face fell suddenly. "Oh."

  "What is it, my love?" Dimitri asked worriedly.

  "I...Dimitri, I must return to Garreg Mach tomorrow ." She answered, sounding entirely despondent. Dimitri himself felt a rush of sorrow at her words, knowing them to be true and loathing that they were.

  "I know that I cannot keep you from your duties any longer, but…" he trailed off, raking a hand through his hair. "My heart aches at the thought of being apart from you for even a moment, Byleth."

  "As does mine." She replied sadly. An odd look crossed her face and she sucked in a quick breath. "Dimitri, would you want to...erm, spend the night together?"

  The King's mouth went dry. 

  "I-I mean, I understand that you're the ruler of Fódlan and I'm the Archbishop and nothing about our situation is very... normal . But many a couple, er, anticipates their wedding night." Byleth rushed to add. Dimitri noted absently that her neck was as red as her face. "I would know you intimately, if I may be so bold."

  "I do not wish to tarnish you." Dimitri admitted softly. And there it was, laid bare. His largest fear that their engagement might throw her own virtue or morals into question, due to his previous, utterly reprehensible conduct. "If we do something like that before we are publicly wed…"

  "We will have to at some point and people will create rumors regardless of what we do." Byleth pointed out practically. "I am not some clean linen for you to ruin, Dimitri. I am just as battle-worn as yourself."

  "True. In many ways, you are much more of a warrior than I ever could be." Dimitri hesitated, then bowed and murmured, "Will you join me in my chambers this evening, your Grace?"

  …

  He needed to speak with Sylvain. Immediately . 

  Dimitri found his old classmate in the barracks, the redhead enthusiastically trading bawdy stories with his troops as usual. 

  "Captain Gautier! A moment?" Dimitri called, waving off the hasty bows of the men that saw him. 

  "Your Majesty! Just in time, I was about to-"

  Dimitri grabbed Sylvain's arm and started hauling him out of the room. " Now , Sylvain." 

  "Alright, alright! You'll dent my armor if you keep that up!" Sylvain teased as he staggered along. "So aggressive . What's this all about, your Kingliness?"

  Dimitri wordlessly held up his free hand as he ushered Sylvain down the hall. 

  The moment it dawned on Sylvain was obvious. He yanked Dimitri's hand closer, examining the ring the king wore. "I knew it . Ha! Felix, prepare to pay up!" The redhead announced gleefully. 

  "What?! You two knew about this? Who else knows?" Dimitri demanded, thoroughly embarrassed.

  Sylvain waved him off airily. "No one knew , Dimitri. We all just kinda' assumed. I bet that the pro...er, Archbishop would ask first."

  "I hate to be the bearer of bad news-"

  "Whatever, it doesn't matter, congratulations are in order!" Sylvain interrupted, enthusiastically shaking Dimitri's hand. "You're a wanted man now, your Majesty!"

  "Hey wait, who bet on me then?!"

  "Uh, I think just Felix, honestly." Sylvain admitted. "Something about you being 'absolutely pitiful'?"

  "How comforting ." Dimitri growled. "Listen Sylvain, I don't have a lot of time. Evening is drawing near." He clenched his fist over his heart in a rigid salute. "Please teach me everything you know about pleasing a woman."

  "I...oh Goddess, okay. I was not expecting that. I uh. I need a second." Sylvain squeaked, "You want me to do what? "

  "I need you to-"

  "Wait, no, nevermind. I did hear you right. You... really? Already? Oh , she's leaving tomorrow. Yeah no, I get it now." Sylvain cracked his knuckles methodically, his handsome grin bordering on evil. "We are going to go raid the kitchen for some nice, juicy peaches to consume and then I am going to tutor you in the time-honored tradition of eating someone out."

  "What in blazes does eating a peach have to do with...with what I need to know by this evening?" Dimitri questioned the other man, concerned now.

  "Oh don't worry. You'll find out. All I ask in return is that you tell Mercedes something nice about me. And maybe name one of your royal brats after me. After all, I'm instrumental in their creation-!"

  Sylvain barely dodged Dimitri's gauntlet in time.

  …

  "I don't know what I'm doing." Byleth whispered.

  "That, makes two of us." Dimitri pressed their foreheads together, his attention wholly focused on her lips and the way she was biting them. "May I?"

  "May you…?" 

  "May I kiss you?" Dimitri wasn't sure why he was whispering as well. It wasn't as if they had an audience. "I know that is how one normally starts such endeavors, if Sylvain is to be believed."

  Byleth looked shy of all things, nodding jerkily and then closing her eyes. Dimitri exhaled, feeling a bit lightheaded.

  His mouth met hers for the first time and the King found his hands fumbling to grip her shoulders. Her own hands sought purchase on his armored torso and came back wanting, settling for fisting in the luxurious fur ruff of his mantle. They clung to each other almost frantically, Byleth returning his kiss with more and more excitement. Her mouth was hot on his own, their inexperience doing nothing to dampen the intensity of the moment. 

  "I need to get this damn plate off. Help me?" Dimitri muttered against her lips, chuckling when she rapidly started to fidget with the pins at his sides. "So eager!"

  "I want to see you." Byleth replied bluntly, making Dimitri's face flush. "Get it over with. If we're both naked, what else could we be nervous about?" She reasoned.

  Dimitri felt like all the air left his chest at the idea of seeing her wholly naked. "An excellent point." He managed to say, undoing his mantle and draping it over one of the less than comfortable armchairs. Gloves came next, then the process of trying to maneuver his pauldrons accordingly. 

  Byleth, it seemed, had no patience for proper armor removal. She slid the pins in his sides and nearly took Dimitri's nose off before remembering that the gorget needed to be undone prior to the breastplate's own bonds. Dimitri couldn't help his laughter, cupping her face with his newly-bared hands and kissing her once more. "Be still, my beloved. I am not going anywhere."

  They managed to remove the rest of his armor down to his cuisses without incident, and Dimitri settled onto the edge of his bed to wriggle out of his greaves and sabatons. 

  " Blast this armor." He growled to himself as a particularly stubborn latch refused to budge. 

  Byleth's hand landed in the middle of his chest and she gave him a push, leaving the King on his back. Dimitri blinked up at the ceiling, stunned when she climbed on top of him and pinned his wrists to the bed.

  "Your Majesty." Oh, he liked the sound of that. "May I?"

  "May you what?"

  "May I kiss you?"

  " Goddess , you need never ask again." 

  Dimitri could have easily dominated the situation, inexperienced though he was. But he found himself staying there, his wrists flexing in her grip. She wasn't going to hurt him. This was no Fhirdiad jail cell, no sharp shackles and miles upon miles of chain to try and manage his rages. 

  His arms began to tremble from how tightly he was reining himself in. "Byleth," he murmured between their kisses. "Please-"

  "Please?" 

  "Beloved, please ." Dimitri sat up, shifting her into his lap. He buried his face in her neck, pressing kisses to the skin he found as his fingers fought with the buttons of her waistcoat. "Please." 

  She responded by starting to undo the tiny fasteners that ran the length of his padded undertunic. Dimitri had to take his hands off of her to shuck the offending garment, pausing when Byleth slid her index over the scar from Edelgard's dagger. "Does it pain you?" She asked, her eyes betraying her concern.

  "No. All that is left is some numbness in my hand." Dimitri assured her. "I was very fortunate that her aim was off. Had she hit my heart, I doubt I would be enjoying this time with you." Byleth touched her lips to the scar and Dimitri couldn't help his shiver. 

  The rest of their armor and clothing was slowly peeled away, revealing the two to each other in their full glory. Dimitri cursed his pale complexion, the King unable to hide how flustered he was simply due to the flush on his face and chest. 

  Byleth had never looked more like a divine being than in that moment, Dimitri decided. "You are perfect." The blond man sighed, "I almost fear to touch you. If this is nothing but a dream…"

  Byleth's hand rested on his stomach. "Do you not wish to touch me?"

  " Goddess , I have longed to touch you like this for so long." Dimitri said sheepishly. "Longer than I should admit." His hand laced with her own, brushing their joined thumbs over one of her breasts. "As you can see, I've done quite a bit of thinking on the subject." He breathed.

  Her fingers traipsed experimentally over the head of his cock and Dimitri exhaled sharply. "What does it feel like?" She asked curiously. 

  "It's...I am not certain on how to describe it." Dimitri wasn't expecting to be the teacher this evening. "A strange, primal heat. It tingles and aches." 

  She straddled his hips, her entire focus on his engorged arousal. Dimitri had never been the subject of such study and he found it incredibly difficult to hold still while she ran her fingers over his body. "This is supposed to fit inside me?" 

  Dimitri couldn't hold back his groan. " Yes . Eventually. Hopefully."

  Byleth raised herself up on her knees, a hand questing between her legs. Dimitri wanted to scream, settling for shakily following her fingers. She was hot , the slick he had heard of from Sylvain's lascivious recountings coating her most delicate area. She undulated over him, whimpering when Dimitri stroked her gently. 

  "Those sounds, never stop making them." He demanded, falling in love all over again at the blissful expression on her face. "Sylvain taught me a few things today. I believe I will not disappoint."

  She giggled, "I don't know whether to be concerned or-" 

  Dimitri didn't give her the time to finish voicing her misgivings, the King rolling them over and pressing her back to the mattress. "It is wonderful to have you beneath me without a battle raging around us." He murmured, his mouth making a path down her stomach and hips. His fingers trailed across her collarbone, then stopped at the rough patch of scar tissue on her shoulder. "This wound…" He paused, raising his head. 

  She put her hand over his own, the pressure light but steady. "I would do it again in a heartbeat." Byleth assured him.

  " Please , do not." Dimitri implored desperately. "I cannot lose you again." Her knees framed his head as he sank lower still, "I will not lose you, my beloved." Her body quivered. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." He soothed, vaguely uncertain of whether he could actually promise such a thing. Byleth was as untried as he was, and he was so damnably strong... "If I cause you discomfort, tell me."

  With that, Dimitri's shaking hands urged her legs even further apart. Sylvain had mentioned that he might feel odd upon seeing a woman for the first time, really seeing a woman. But all Dimitri felt was a hunger that tormented his body. He longed to sweep her off the bed and devour her, settling for tender, nibbling kisses instead.

  She whimpered and her hands were suddenly in his hair, caressing the back of his head fitfully. "Oh, please- " 

  Her taste flooded his tongue in a heady rush, spurring him on to messily conquer her with his mouth. Dimitri knew he had no real technique , a single afternoon of licking and slurping produce with Sylvain would not be enough to grant him mastery. But Byleth did not appear to be overly troubled by his lack of experience, her fingers knitting against his scalp helplessly. 

  She was so wet he could feel it dripping down his chin, the knowledge that he did that making him ache anew. If he could arouse her so dramatically, perhaps he could satisfy her. Her hips pitched abruptly and Dimitri hungrily pressed his face to her, giving in to his desire to devour her entirely. She was delicious . After years of not being able to taste anything, her arousal was like a healing downpour on the wasteland of his senses.

  Byleth cried out his name and Dimitri flinched, startled. Her legs were shaking, her nails digging into the back of his neck hard enough to break the skin. "Alright?" He managed to ask, actually feeling her pulse underneath his tongue when he lapped slowly at her sensitive skin.

  "Oh Goddess , Dimitri…" Byleth gasped, her eyes wide. 

  "Didn't hurt you, right?"

  "No, no." She waved off his concern, her breaths ragged. 

  Dimitri rested his cheek on her stomach, still worried that he had caused some harm. "Are you certain?"

  " Dimitri ." Byleth huffed, cupping his face. "It did not hurt. I am not in pain. I have never experienced...not with another person, that is."

  "Ah, so you…" Dimitri trailed off, feeling unnecessarily smug. "You honor me, Byleth."

  She groaned, obviously exasperated with his teasing. "I have done my own research, you know." She informed him, rolling her hips up to press against his cock. Dimitri choked, looking down to watch her move.

  "That is...you are very talented." He remarked faintly. "Incredible." 

  "May we attempt?" Byleth's shy request rang in his ears and Dimitri hid his face in her neck, his hips rocking down into the cradle of her thighs. 

  "As much as you can endure, my beloved." He had never thought that he would experience this with someone, much less with the woman that he loved. Dimitri was overwhelmed with emotion, his self-control fraying. "I would prefer that you are on top of me if we are to...attempt."

  "On top? Is that not a bit strange?"

  "If I have you beneath me, I am unsure that I will be able to refrain from bruising you. And if I am too much for you, I would rather that you were able to easily withdraw." Dimitri explained delicately. "I will do my best, of course, but I am unsure of how well I will... manage myself once we are...erm, intertwined." 

  Byleth muffled her laughter with her arm. "You just had your mouth in a place that no one else has ever seen on me, how can you still be so bashful?"

  "I am not -" Dimitri began to sputter, finding himself licking his lips absently to catch her taste again. "I am just...I am simply warning you!"

  "I'm not afraid of you, Dimitri."

  Dimitri shook his head. "I know. I just don't want your bravery to be the reason I damage you. You know how accursedly strong I am."

  "We are simply coupling with each other, not clashing on the battlefield. You will not hurt me. You cannot damage me." Byleth assured him, her eyes beautiful in the dim glow of the candlelight. "You would never do anything to cause me unwarranted harm."

  " Goddess ." Dimitri rasped, the word half-prayer, half-curse. "Permit me, then."

  "You are permitted." 

  "Tell me if I hurt you."

  In reply, Byleth reached down between their bodies and gently wrapped her fingers around his manhood. "I love you." This was a claim, as sure as the sunrise. Dimitri's shoulders snapped taut, his whole form yearning for their joining. 

  "My beloved," he gasped, feeling her graze the head of his cock over her slit. " Please , Byleth." Her fingers guided him safely in and Dimitri finally breached her with a moan. He could not stop the savage snarl that built in his chest upon feeling her wet heat close around his shaft, and he fought to hold himself still. "Are you alright?" He asked raggedly, stroking her cheek.

  Byleth nodded, her expression dazed. 

  "My beloved, are you certain?" Dimitri was unsure what to make of her face, even as his instincts screamed for him to plunge himself deeper, deeper- -His fingers gripped the luxurious sheets beneath them. "Byleth?"

  She crooned to him, closing her eyes and arching her back. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat when she moved, her body accepting more and more of what he had to offer her. 

  "Goddess," The King growled, " yes ." He could do this, he realized suddenly. He could make love to the woman who had his heart and not hurt her. She could enjoy him fearlessly. He shifted his weight over her and cupped her cheek, a tender caress. "Would you like more, my dear professor?" He asked her softly. 

  Byleth's hand covered his own on her cheek, as it had when she had returned to him in the cathedral. 

  "Teach me, my love."

  …

  She woke just as the sun was beginning to pink the horizon. Byleth's body ached sweetly from the night's exertion, making her moan as she stretched.

  Dimitri's heavy arm was slung over her hip, the King still deep in slumber. His fingers twitched fitfully. Byleth carefully rolled over so she could see him and was utterly mesmerized. When he slept, the raw edge of him seemed to smooth ever so slightly. Here, lit only by the soft hue of reluctant dawn, his blond hair fanned out on the pillow, he looked like a sleeping prince from a fairytale. 

  Aside from the numerous love bites that littered his neck and chest, of course. Those gave him a bit of a different look, somewhat less chaste and sterile. Byleth flushed as she realized her own breasts were peppered with similar marks. Neither of them had been particularly subtle in their affections, she supposed, still a little giddy about everything that had transpired.

  Dimitri groaned in his sleep, muttering something and then wrapping her in his arms once more. Her head slotted beneath his chin like it was made to be there and she smiled, closing her eyes. "I love you, Dimitri." She whispered, kissing the underside of his jaw.

  His mouth turned up at the edges and he snuggled her tighter, mumbling more nonsense words in her ear. The sunrise slowly illuminated the room, bathing the two drowsing lovers in a rosy glow. Soon enough, their work would intrude. But for just a moment longer, they ignored responsibilities and titles in favor of basking in the contentment of each other's embrace. 

  The Savior King and the Guardian Of Order .

[ladyvader23]

Darth Vader vs the Stripping Phase

For @masterjinzu who asked to see Vader handle Luke and Leia in their “stripping phase” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Never, in his entire life, had Darth Vader regretted killing someone as much as he now regretted killing the twins sixth nanny. 

There were two very important reasons for this, reasons he didn’t think about until the day after he’d offed her. 

First, the following morning when he told the twins that whats-her-name (he’d already forgotten it) wouldn’t be coming back, they’d cried for a good two hours, then intermittently throughout the day. There was nothing--nothing--he hated more than his children crying because of something he’d done. 

At least that’s what he thought, until he discovered the second reason to regret killing the nanny. 

Apparently, Luke and Leia, his sweet, innocent, just barely turned two year olds, had hit their ‘stripping’ phase.

He hadn’t even known such a thing existed. He didn’t know how long this had been a problem, either. Had it been going on for a while and the nanny just took care of it without saying anything? Or had the twins, in an act of revenge for murdering their nanny, decided to start streaking through the condo naked as the day they’d been born? 

He’d discovered the problem one morning after sitting down to work from his home office. With no nanny to watch them, he needed to be near enough to ensure his little ones were safe. 

Much to the Emperor’s annoyance. 

He’d just posted an ad for another nanny on the holonet when Leia came running in. He looked up to admonish her for interrupting and order her to play somewhere else--but he stopped cold when he realized that the clothes he’d put on her that morning were now mysteriously missing. 

“Leia, where are your clothes?” he demanded, going to pick her up. She squealed and evaded his grasp, darting back out into the hallway...where he watched in horror as his equally naked son rushed after her. 

He simply stared at the doorway, aghast. 

Maybe he hadn’t clothed them properly? But...no, he was sure he had…

He quickly rushed to grab the kids and, while they kicked and squirmed in his arms, he forced them back into their clothes. 

But the alarming behavior didn’t stop. 

Three more times that same day. Four more the next. Twice the day after that. 

Finally, he called their doctor. Surely there was something wrong. There had to be. He was losing his patience, and not a single nanny application had been submitted and he was about to go insane… 

“How may I help you, Lord Vader?” Doctor Rawley picked up mercifully quickly. 

He was struggling to force Leia back into the black dress he’d picked out for her. He didn’t fail to notice Luke was in the corner already trying to break free of his tunic. “Can you explain why, for Force sake, my children insist on tearing their clothes off every time I have my back turned?!...Leia, stop it right now, young lady!” 

She’d thrown herself dramatically on her back and had started trying to kick him. “NO!” She shrieked, glaring at him. 

If they were not his children…

Doctor Rawley hesitated, as he always seemed to do before telling the Dark Lord something he didn’t wish to hear. “It’s not uncommon for toddlers, once they figure out how to undress, to do it repeatedly.” 

His hands stilled, and he looked at the comm link in horror. “This...is...normal?!” 

Admittedly, he said that a lot to Doctor Rawley. 

“Yes. It could be for a variety of reasons, but it’s usually a fascination with a new skill.” 

Why. Why hadn’t he done his research before deciding to have children?! He was a Sith Lord. Count Dooku never had to deal with this. Neither had Maul, he was certain. 

Why? Why him? 

“What other reasons doctor?” 

“Well, they may like the attention they’re getting when you react…” 

“Are you saying I don’t give them enough attention?!” 

“N-no, of course not, Lord Vader. I’m simply…”

This time Leia kicked his face--or the helmet--and with a snarl he released her completely. She immediately jumped up and bolted out, a now shirtless Luke hot on her heels. 

“What. Other. Reasons?!” He growled at the comm link. The doctor was lucky that he wasn’t on holovid, or he’d be dead for witnessing that. 

“...Well, they might not like their clothes…” 

He was so close to demanding what was wrong with the clothes provided to them, but he was certain the doctor had a logical explanation and he didn’t want to hear it. It was just more proof of how ill prepared he was for fatherhood. 

“What do you suggest, then?” 

“Instead of putting them in the same clothes they were wearing, try putting them into a different outfit instead. And if the outfit closes from the back, that’s even better.” The doctor hesitated again, and Vader braced himself. “Or...let them have their naked time.” 

Oh, the doctor was very lucky he was not nearby. “That is a completely unacceptable answer…” 

“I understand, Lord Vader. I am merely suggesting what has worked on other toddlers with the same, ah, tendencies.” 

Vader gritted his teeth. “That will be all.” He snapped, and with a wave of his hand the call disconnected. Seconds later, he had his admiral on the line. 

When he answered, he didn’t even bother with greetings. Instead, he rushed straight to the issue at hand. “Admiral, you will use my funds and you will immediately go to the nearest tailor selling toddler clothes and you will buy every single item in the sizes that I will transmit to you. Spare no expense. I want all of it.” 

“...Y-yes, Lord Vader.” 

He didn’t care if it made him sound like he was spoiling his children. There was no way he would allow them to run free in their name day suits. No way. 

Admittedly, his reputation had taken a hit when he’d found his children and decided to keep them. It was normally not anything he couldn’t make up for in battle or in dealing with his subordinates. But if his children were to be found running around without their clothes on? 

He didn’t think he’d recover from that. 

And unfortunately, the Force seemed to want to test that theory out. 

It was the following day, early in the morning. He’d attempted to dress Luke in a soft, white tunic and black pants, with Leia in an equally soft blue tunic and black pants. So far, neither of them seemed inclined to start stripping--at least not whenever he checked in on them. 

So, he went back to his work. Namely, checking the pitiful amount of applicants for the nanny position. Apparently, his reputation for killing nannies had spread, and there were very few who wished to work for him. Yet another reason he regretted killing so many, he decided as he glared at the screen. 

It was as he was contemplating his rotten luck that he felt it--the presence of his master. 

Coming straight for his front door. 

He looked up, and though his skin was already pale beneath the suit, he was sure his face whitened further. 

He didn’t even need to ask why the Emperor had bothered to visit him at his home. It was so rare these days for him to leave the palace or the senate. Never, in the last few years, had he bothered dropping by either his home on Coruscant or on Mustafar. 

But now? Now he wanted to see what it was that was preventing Vader from leaving the planet to carry out his duties across the galaxy. 

Or, rather, he was coming to confirm why. 

Hurriedly, he stood, making sure his mental shields were strengthened as he stormed for the front door. The Emperor would not knock. What Vader owned, he owned...at least in his eyes. So, quickly, Vader dropped by the twin’s bedroom and checked in on them. 

Mercifully, they were still clothed and playing with the toy ships and stormtroopers he’d given them for their birthday. 

“Do not remove your clothes.” He warned, pointing a finger at them. 

Both of them blinked at him, and he sent the warning through their Force bond. He didn’t know what good it would do. They were still so young, and who knew how much they understood? He couldn’t exactly express to them why it was imperative that they keep their clothes on while the Emperor of the galaxy was visiting. 

He just had to hope they’d understand at least until he could bore the Emperor enough to get him to leave. 

As he predicted, the front door hissed open just as he reached it. In stepped the hooded, hunched figure of the Emperor. “Ah. Lord Vader. Just who I wanted to see.” 

Obviously. Vader wanted to say, but instead he knelt in front of the man. “I sensed your arrival, Master. How may I serve you?” 

Please tell me. Now. So you can leave. Is what he wanted to say, but he kept that carefully shielded from him. 

But the Emperor seemed to know he was in a hurry anyway, because he took his time taking in the condo at his leisure. “You keep your home clean, considering that you have two little ones running around. Probably with filthy fingers.” 

“They are well behaved.” The answer was automatic, even if it was currently a lie. 

“If they are so well behaved, then why have you not found yourself a new nanny? I need you out enforcing my will upon the galaxy, not babysitting.” 

Though on the surface the Emperor sounded like an old friend asking him about his troubles, he could detect the disdain hiding beneath his grandfatherly demeanor. 

“It would seem it is less about my children’s behavior and more about my reputation for,” he paused, deciding how to word it, “how I choose to reward failure.” 

The Emperor scoffed, and finally made a gesture with his hand, allowing Vader to rise. “I will see if I can speed the process up.” 

He didn’t love the idea of the Emperor having anything to do with his children, but he was smart enough not to protest. He’d have to find some way to undermine the order.

“I trust your work has…” The Emperor began, but another noise behind him had Vader tuning his master out. 

The sound of bare feet pitter pattering across the room…

Please don’t be naked, please don’t be naked, please don’t be naked…

He didn’t dare turn around, even as the Emperor broke off, his golden eyes narrowing at wherever his children had disappeared to. 

There was silence, only broken by the sound of his respirator. 

“Lord Vader.” 

“Yes, Master?” 

Oh Force. Force. This couldn’t be happening. 

“Did I just...see...two children running through your home...naked?” 

It was happening. 

He stood there, absolutely still, willing to be back on Mustafar, swallowed up by the lava so he wouldn’t have to face what was currently happening, completely out of his control. 

He didn’t know what to say. The Emperor, a master of the Sith, was far less likely to be understanding about children than he ever was. 

So he said the first thing that came to mind. 

“No.” 

The Emperor raised a wrinkled, deformed brow. “Oh?” To Vader’s horror, he realized that his Master felt his misery and was currently reveling in it. “So your children aren’t currently streaking through your home?” 

There went his reputation. 

“No.” 

“I see.” Oh yes, there was definitely dark pleasure in his master’s voice. “Well. It would seem that Luke and Leia need a firm, guiding hand in their lives at the moment. Maybe you should take a few more days to work from home.” 

Translation: This is what you get for taking them in. Suffer the tarnishing of your reputation. You brought this on yourself.  

 “That is most wise, my Master.” He forced out. 

“Good.” The Emperor turned, ready to leave, but before he did, he glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, and Lord Vader?” 

Please just leave. “Yes, my Master?” 

A sinister smile revealed rotting teeth. “Do get your children under control. Before I am forced to step in myself.” 

And as Vader watched the man leave, only to listen to his children run through the house still naked...something in him broke. 

His reputation was gone. Shredded. All that was left was him in his stupid life support suit and his two naked children running around the house. 

“Who dat?” Luke asked from behind him. 

Vader looked up at the ceiling, cursing the Force for it’s decision to continue to torture him. “The Emperor.” Then, he looked down at his son. 

Still naked. 

Luke frowned. “Daddy mad?” 

Mad? He was beyond that. Well beyond it. 

And yet...he didn’t have the energy. 

“I’m going to meditate.” He announced. He didn’t know if Luke understood it. Probably not. “Be nice to your sister.” 

As he walked away, a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, Doctor Rawley was right. This once, allow them to have their naked time. 

He’d deal with their insubordination later. For now, he would retreat, gather his strength…

And ponder on how he’d gone from a feared apprentice of the Sith to an exhausted father with unclothed twins in less than a week.

[rainsonata]

Doppelgänger 14/15

Chapter 14: The Cataclysm 

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: T Word Count: 6,968

Summary: It was like looking into a mirror. What happens when one’s reflection talks back and throws uncomfortable questions? El Search Party struggles to find entrance into the Demon Realm, but Dominator has a plan.   

Alternative Title: Dominator fucked up and now everyone meets their alternative selves   

AO3 Link / FF.NET Link

— [Chapter 01] [Chapter 02] [Chapter 03] [Chapter 04] [Chapter 05] [Chapter 06] [Chapter 07] [Chapter 08] [Chapter 09] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] —  

----------------------------

Class Notes: 

Canon Path: Knight Emperor, Aether Sage, Daybreaker, Rage Hearts, Code: Esencia, Comet Crusader, Apsara, Empire Sword, Doom Bringer, Ishtar and Chevalier (Innocent), Bluhen   

Alternative Path: Rune Master, Oz Sorcerer, Anemos, Furious Blade, Code: Ultimate, Fatal Phantom, Devi, Flame Lord, Dominator, Timoria and Abysser (Catastrophe), Richter

Transformation Path: Immortal, Metamorphy, Twilight, Nova Imperator, Code: Sariel, Centurion, Shakti, Bloody Queen, Mad Paradox, Iblis and Anular (Diangelion), Herrscher

---------------------------- 

Code: Ultimate 

Henir’s Time and Space existed in a separate plane of its own, balanced between all dimensions and existed at a point where time did not exist. A portal cracked open from the side, forming an enclave big enough for their group to squeeze through. 

Ultimate entered first. She forced her wings to fold back to avoid crushing the person behind her. It was the same as it was the last time she had visited. They all landed on the familiar blue platform shared by parts of Elrianode. Electric circuits glowed beneath their feet. Blue cubes hovered around their platform among the stars. A dark sun eclipsed by the moon floated above their heads. 

Despite gaining access to knowledge from the libraries and databases from her journey, Ultimate had little understanding of Henir’s Time and Space and its existence. Its architecture bore strong resemblance to that of the corrupted monsters and machines in Elrianode. The administrator of the facility was placed in what appeared to be a form of punishment. Ultimate felt her circuits hum into mild stress at the thought of being locked into one place.      

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE DIMENSION WILL COLLAPSE?” 

Loud chatter disrupted Ultimate’s train of thought. The queen of destruction closed her eyes and allowed her programs to run scans in the background. Glave was nowhere to be seen, but Ultimate needed to update her database on Henir’s Time and Space. 

“I’m sure she was joking.” Knight laughed nervously. The red knight fought to restrain Aether by placing his hands over her shoulder and gently nudging her away from Metamorphy. The elementary mage did not back away and had her staff out with a dangerous look in her eyes. 

Ultimate recognized that expression. It was the one humans had when frustrated and confused. Aether was both.   

“I don’t joke,” Metamorphy said with a bright smile. She was unaffected by her counterpart’s outburst and stepped out of the portal with her arms behind her back. 

Her sensors notified Ultimate that other organic beings were present. Orange and red light filtered through her ocular lens to let her know there were a few dozen warm bodies. Metamorphy was correct in that they were the last group to have arrived. The platform they were on was one of many. Small stairs connected each platform and formed a chain of them to travel in between them. 

Ultimate heard their names being shouted by the others that saw their arrival. It was too much for the Nasod in keeping track of them all. She allowed herself to ignore them and instead watched her friends interact with each other. Their reunion would be short before they learn about their fates. 

A figure appeared from the mass of people. Ultimate’s scans shot up in response to the high energy levels emitted from Paradox. The time traveler’s energy level was unstable, making it difficult for Ultimate’s systems to keep up with the changes. It was as if Paradox wasn’t human.  

“Of course it’s you causing all the noise.” Paradox was in his adult form and covered his mouth to hide a snide smile. He said to Metamorphy. “So you told them your intentions. Didn’t think you would become the harbinger of bad news.”

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” Metamorphy’s expression soured. “I doubt your group took it any better than mine did.” 

“You took us here knowing we were going to react like this?” Knight protested, “You’re okay with us watching the world be destroyed?”

“Reborn,” Metamorphy corrected. 

“Explain,” Ultimate looked at Paradox and Metamorphy with cold eyes. She noticed more people crowding around them and listening in to Metamorphy’s explanation. Did they know about this before they did? “I don’t quite follow what you mean by rebirth.”  

Destruction and rebirth were two concepts humans liked to bring up through history. Their religion and cultures were built around both. When one group had fallen, another would rise, sometimes stronger than the last in ways Nasods wouldn’t be able to. 

Ultimate was placed into deep slumber because her creator feared that his race had once again fallen into the cycle of death. He was correct, but Adrian failed to recognize that humans were just as compatible with creation as they were in destruction. For she had seen her teammates come up with plans and concepts that helped others. However, Ultimate began to understand his sentiment when Metamorphy showed glee in explaining the death of a dimension the Nasod queen had only come to known for a few days. 

“Rebirth makes it sound grander than it actually is,” Metamorphy said. “It’s more like a soft reboot. Having everyone into the same dimension is stressing the system and forcing it to shut down to reset itself.”

“You’re saying it’s going to come back?” Phantom asked. 

“Yes,” Metamorphy hummed. “Maybe not one-hundred percent. It should be restored to the state before the dimension broke down.”

“We’re really doing this.” Bangs covered Knight’s eyes, “We’re letting people suffer again.” 

There was tension in the red haired man’s features. His shoulders rose and a hint of blue flickered over his glassy eyes. Ultimate frowned and questioned the El’s influence over Knight. Did the El have a stronger presence with Knight than it did for Rune? 

“I’m sorry we had to resort to this,” Rage offered Knight an awkward pat on the back. 

“So this is what happens when too many timelines intersect,” Bringer mumbled to himself. “This is the end.”   

Being a few hundred years old, Ultimate wasn’t one to be as sentimental as most were in occurrences such as the soft reset Metamorphy was suggesting. The end wasn’t a foreign concept to her. According to numerous history books, many Elrian civilizations documented the Nasod war as the death of a prosperous era and the end to the benevolent relationship between Nasods and humans. Rune’s sacrifice to the El was the end of their search for the El Lady and the El Masters. A soft reset would mark yet another ending of a story arc in human history. 

Was there truly an end? 

“Resetting will fix everything?” There was a bite to Flame words and sharpness in the look she exchanged to Metamorphy and over to Paradox. Biting the bottom of her lips, Ultimate could see the flame user trying not to get excited. 

“I don’t know about that,” Paradox scoffed. “No one has done a reset before. I’m not sure if Glave can even do it.” 

“Is that why you brought us here?” Abysser asked. “I knew Glave deals with time and space, but do you really think he’s going to agree to helping us?”

“Didn’t he already help you in Elrianode?” Crusader had his arms crossed, “He gave us information about the corrupted Elrianode monsters and about the Dark El.” 

“I suppose it could be too soon to ask for help again.” Empire said, “We’re already here, so we should at least try.” 

Empire had what humans called “cautious optimism”. When Ultimate expressed her confusion, Rune explained that people wanted to see the bright side of something, but remained careful out of the fear of being wrong. The knight captain remained so, putting on a composed mask but smiling as a way to reassure the others. Flame did the same, but her enthusiasm was more overt and offering loud cheers. 

Crossing her legs, Ultimate examined a floating cube reflecting her face back. She hadn’t noticed before, but some of them acted as monitors and showed the viewer different worlds. Each surface focused on a different part of Elrios, but one caught her attention. Ripples formed over its otherwise smooth surface and offered her a glimpse of a moving figure. 

A woman sharing Devi’s face darted across a muddy terrain with a toothy grin. She wore white outfit similar to that of the warriors from Fluone's Northern Empire, followed by a white fox with many tails. Behind her was a blonde man in a white suit covered by equally pristine armor and a destroyer. An elven woman was with them. Her hair was tied back into a long braid and hoisted a sword and a bow. The sky was red and they were fighting a monster several times their size, covered in spikes and baring sharp teeth. 

An emotionless face reflected back at Ultimate from the screen. The Nasod queen froze, waiting for her circuits to process the face of her twin. Pale blue wings sprouted from the back of her counterpart from another world she didn’t know of. Were these people her friends from another dimension?        

“My, my. There are more of you than usual.” A male voice mused, “Your group gets bigger each time we meet, but this is the biggest I’ve seen.” 

A single orange eye peered through the metal mask Glave wore. His voice made it impossible to tell his age, a quiet chuckle followed by a light toned statement that placed many people on edge. The locks placed around his collar were for a man who had committed unspoken crimes.  

“You took your time,” Paradox sneered. “Where have you been?” 

“Hello, Add.” Glave chuckled, “I see you have made use of the knowledge I have given you.” 

“Cut the crap and tell us what we need to do to undo this idiot’s mistake!” Bringer growled. 

“It looks like there’s three of you now,” Glave looked at Bringer, Dominator, and Paradox. “I suspected this day would come. How can I help you?” 

Bringer fumed as Bluhen commented about the brawler being singled out with his other selves. Dominator was less pleased of being grouped with his alternatives, crossing his legs and sitting on Dynamo in a silent sulk. Paradox became a sitting duck as soon as Glave showed up, glaring at the administrator of Henir’s Time and Space with distaste.

“We need your help,” Crusader explained. “The Demon Realm where we came from is falling apart. If we don’t do something, we won’t be able to save Elrios.” 

“Is that so?” Glave looked at the mob, “Is that because all of you were involved?”

“Yes,” Anemos said. “Add said there were too many of us and it’s causing problems for everyone and the people living in Demon Realm.” 

“I expected this to happen for some time,” Glave admitted. 

“Because you taught someone how to time travel?” Nova raised a brow. 

“Yes, but he isn’t the only one learning to open portals.” Glave said, “I’m sure you remember the demon invasion in Velder?”

“That’s right, they were trying to open portals to invade Elrios!” Aether exclaimed, “But what are you trying to say? Metamorphy said you could reset the dimension and return us back to where we were supposed to be!”

“Did she now?” Glave said, “That is a heavy task you are asking of me.”

“Please, Glave. You helped us before and you gave us all the information you knew about the Dark El.” Knight lowered his head, “I don’t know what we can offer this time, but you’re the only person I know who can help us.” 

Ultimate looked back to Knight, trying to understand his intention. He led a massive group, yet maintained the humbleness Rune had. There was no humor in his intonation, coated by shame and guilt. She was confused about where the unnecessary emotion came from. He was no different than Rune. 

“What can you offer this time?” Glave chuckled again, “Resetting a dimension so I can send all of you on your merry way? It will only take time before all of you find each other again.” 

“I know it’s our fault this happened, but that’s why I want to change that.” Knight said, “I only want-”

An arm blocked Knight from getting closer to Glave. Immortal stepped up and shook his head to Knight, effectively silencing his counterpart with a tiny smile. The sword user beamed at Glave and offered the man a forced grin. 

“Yo, Glave! I got a better deal than myself over there,” Immortal nudged Knight to the side. “Why stop at resetting one dimension? You’re right, we might try to see each other again and that means you’ll have to fix our mess again. So why don’t you sit down and listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh?” A smile could be heard in Glave’s raised intonation, “What do you propose?”

“Why don’t you make it so that dimension traveling is stable across our three dimensions?” Immortal nodded, “You won’t regret this because you will never be bored!”     

Anemos once proposed to Ultimate that Glave’s strange requests were done out of boredom. She kept her voice low and hushed with a snide comment that was uncharacteristic of the elven woman. Ultimate couldn’t relate to the emotion as Nasods did not get bored, but she knew that humans had a tendency of finding ways to entertain themselves when placed in isolation. She could see why Glave would go to such lengths to reach out to the El Search Party when his traveling was limited to a few spots. 

“Never get bored, huh?” Nova laughed to himself, “That’s so Elsword.” 

---------------------------- 

Chevalier

In contrast to the cold weather in Varnimyr, there was nothing in Henir’s time and space. It was warm yet cold. Big, yet small. An infinite sea of platforms floated in space, small stairs suspended in midair and connected to one another. Just big enough to fit all twenty nine of them and its administrator. 

The first time he had visited Henir’s time and space was by Glave himself, who had a tendency of showing up at resting spots in Elrios. A strange light in his eyes gave away that the man had plans of his own. He wasn’t one to share his intentions and Chevalier didn’t want to do with any of it. Chevalier didn’t lack strange people in his life after he formed a pact with Ishtar. 

It has been weeks since Chevalier last saw the administrator of Henir’s time and space. With a look of boredom and a shrug, Glave offered useful information on the Dark El and a quick history lesson of the Henir heretics involvement of it. Their dependence on Glave brought discomfort to the half-demon butler. 

“Are we nothing more than entertainment for this man?” Ishtar scowled, “Fixing someone else’s mistake in exchange for our livelihood. What kind of nonsense is this?” 

Chevalier hushed the former demon ruler. He had seen the hasty plan wrapped together by the newcomers as if it was second nature for them to dimension jump at a last minute’s notice. There was no reason to give Glave a moment of doubt in handing over a gift to their group. 

“How would we travel to each other’s worlds?” Apsara asked. 

“I gave the coordinates to the nerd and the musclehead,” Paradox snorted. “I think that’s enough.” 

“This is a good idea?” Chevalier wondered aloud, “Demons have tried to cross into Elrios through portals in the past. What makes you think they won’t find out about our new access to them?” 

“It’s only a problem if you blurt it out in the cold open like the amateurs you are,” Paradox grinned. “With twelve of you, that surely won’t be a problem, would it?”

Chevalier couldn’t make head or tail(s) about the man who shared Doom Bringer’s face. The time traveler had two forms he could use however he pleased. That was how he tricked Knight into believing he was harmless, yet they were expected to take Paradox’s words as truth. The butler’s gaze locked into Bringer, who nodded as a confirmation. 

“That’s right, he gave us the coordinates for each other’s dimensions.” Bringer said, “Is that all you want to say?”

“You’re not the type to have idle conversations, are you?” Dreadlord chuckled, “I suppose it can’t be helped with our situation.”      

Was the Demon Realm they came from beyond saving? It wasn’t their world, but it was the one the El Search Party promised to protect. It was a relief to make amends with the dark elves and the other creatures living there. Despite the poor relation between demons and Elrios inhabitants, there were civilians living in both. Most importantly, it was Ishtar’s home. Behind her sly smiles was sadness and nostalgia for a place that no longer accepted her.  

Chevalier and Ishtar poured blood and sweat into fighting their way into Demon Realm to restore her reign as a ruler, only for all that effort to go to waste. He couldn’t imagine the thoughts going through Ishtar’s mind in watching her world be reduced to ashes. 

“It’s fine,” Ishar placed a hand over Chevalier’s left forearm. She said with a forced smile, “It doesn’t bother me. Everything will be okay.” 

“Are you sure?” Chevalier disliked how childish he sounded when he asked a seemingly simple, yet personal question to the one he was supposed to protect. 

“Metamorphy said it would be reset, so I’m sure of it.” She closed her eyes, “My people are no strangers to rebuilding themselves. We should be thankful Grave is agreeing to help us again. This will be the second time we owe him.”  

“That’s already several times less than some of us,” Immortal gave a light chuckle. “Are you ready then?” 

All this talk about portal and interdimensional travel was a familiar topic that gave Chevalier a migraine. He could understand why the ability to do so was so appealing to demons. With that sort of power, Chevalier would gain access to stronger allies, multiple versions of himself that would likely share the same objective as he did. It took the effort of many people to prevent such power from falling into their enemy’s possession.   

Meeting their alternates added an extra layer of complexity on top of the original intention to seek out the Dark El. The butler knew they wouldn’t hear the last about portals after the first time they attempted to cross a dimension over from Lanox. Chevaliar had doubts that their group would return to Elrios any time soon.  

“You all right, there?” Abysser’s annoying voice popped into his vicinity. “What’s going on in your mind?”

“Nothing,” Chevalier said. 

“No one thinks about nothing,” Abysser snorted. “Hey Ish, what’s he thinking?” 

“Don’t call her that!” Chevalier growled. Why was being around himself so grating? Ishtar gave Abysser a small smile, but the demon monarch mentally cackled at the exchange between the two butlers. Chevalier sent glares at the tiny demon, struggling not to fill his mind with profanities. That only made Ishtar laugh harder.

“Did I say something funny?” Abysser was concerned, “You look like you ate something bad and Ishtar is giving me a weird look.”  

Chevalier stared ahead, focusing his thoughts and eyes on Glave. The administrator’s lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear the words. For the first time, he wished Ishtar didn’t have to share the same mental space as him. The demon monarch was usually good about backing off and giving him privacy, but Ishtar was taking delight in picking at his thoughts whenever Abysser was around. Her Cheshire grin was one that was usually reserved for teasing Bluhen.      

“Ciel was telling me how much he likes you!” Ishtar dared to speak a complete lie. Her lips couldn’t have spread out even further if she tried. The demon monarch bore a mischievous smirk that was more in line with her appearance age. 

“Aw, I think you’re cool too!” Abysser beamed. 

Chevalier groaned. 

He spied a camera shot of Varnimyr from one of the reflective cubes floating nearby. They functioned similar to the Nasod technology used in Elysion to monitor the city. Red clouds swirled in a dangerous haze, obscured by dark portals consuming the rest of the sky. Demons trekked across the fiery path, seeking for shelter in confusion to what was happening to their world. The demon realm was a mirror to what Lanox was weeks before the demon invasion. So this was how Glave always knew where to find them.  

Past his former days as a hitman, Chevalier pondered on how he would use them. How easy would it be to find his target before they realized he existed and... Chevalier didn’t allow himself to complete the thought. Those days were over. He would have easily picked to live in the present than in a bloodtorn past where he too often scraped the bottom of the barrel for less savory jobs.   

“It’s okay if you don’t know what to think about any of this,” Abysser read his silence as uncertainty. His eyes glazed over the cubes. Anger appeared in a short moment before he said, “I don’t think anyone would know how to react.” 

“You think?” Chevalier gave a dark chuckle. At least Abysser’s voice was good at distracting him from those troubling thoughts. “I was questioning my sanity when you introduced yourself.” 

“I can’t be that bad,” he feigned a hurt expression. 

“It’s like a dream,” Chevalier said. “Everything gets resolved as quickly as the problem came.” 

“We must be blessed because we now have three Elswords,” Abysser smirked. “Lady Luck seems to like them.” 

“I wouldn’t call it luck if it means having to sit through the world crumbling before us,” Chevalier said. 

“You’re welcome to join them,” Abysser grinned. 

“I’ll pass,” Chevalier scoffed. 

“Don’t you ever get bored of acting cool all the time?” Abysser asked. 

Chevalier shrugged, wondering what the demon meant by that. While he was troubled by the idea of watching a dimension reset itself, Ishtar did not need to add his premature death to her list of growing worries. Having sympathy for demon realm civilians wasn’t going to make him into a martyr. He was not Knight.  

“What needs to be done to begin the reset?” Anemos asked. 

“Your visit was unexpected, so I won’t be able to start immediately to fix your… mishap.” Glave said. “For saving the dimension, I expect a token of exchange shortly after. I’m sure it won’t be difficult for one of you to acquire it.”  

Chevalier was sure the first part was a lie, but he didn’t have the proof nor motivation to say otherwise. He took Glave’s word for it and nodded in agreement. His mind glossed over the mention of payment, mildly interested in what the administrator of Henir could want. Glave had previously formed exchange services for them running errands. The requested items were often unique objects obtained from strange circumstances and battles.    

“You can tell us about the price after you finish saving the world,” Immortal said impatiently. 

Similar to Knight, he carried weight in his steps and was terse in his words. He had a sharp look in his eyes, hazy from the effect the Dark El had. Chevalier could feel the Dark El radiating from the sword user, yet he retained his reason and intelligence.  

“There will still be limitations on how many can visit different worlds,” Glave added. “Your dimensions will no longer collapse under the new laws, but having large groups together will cause a delay in regular timeflow.” 

“As in…?” Flame squinted. 

“Try not to visit in big groups,” Phantom finished for her. 

“Having big groups does make it harder to avoid detection from the enemies,” Daybreaker remarked. 

Being forced to arrive as small groups sounded cumbersome, but it was more than what he expected from Glave. Impressed by Immortal’s ability to sway the administrator of Henir, Chevalier quietly thanked the redhead and offered a pat on the shoulder. Immortal backed away, as if the young man had seen a ghost. He kept looking at the butler’s face with a careful expression before moving his eyes over to Ishtar. Fear struck across Immortal’s gaze before he apologized to Chevalier for staring. 

Confused by Immortal’s reaction, Chevalier accepted the apology but frowned. Was it something he had said? Did Immortal have a bad relationship with the other Ciel from his world? It took a split second for Chevalier to force himself away from drawing out his gunblade because of the way Immortal looked at Ishtar, an expression he was quick to recognize. It was one of fear mixed with anger. What did the other Lu do to make Immortal respond like that?   

“Forget it.” Immortal rubbed the back of his head, a trait he shared with Rune and Knight when frustrated. “I need to let the others know what’s happening.” 

“I know you have a lot on your plate, but Glave won’t be ready any time soon.” Chevalier said. He wished there was something he could do to help the young man. “You should take the time to rest.” 

“Lucky for us, time doesn’t exist here.” Immortal let out a dark chuckle.  

“So after this, we’ll return to where we were before like nothing happened?” Chevalier asked. 

Immortal nodded. 

Rune’s group would go back to Elrianode before they entered Demon Realm. Would they once again attempt to enter their Demon Realm or would they change plans and remain in the ancient city? Chevalier and his friends would return to a restored Varnimyr with its inhabitants being none the wiser, still in danger because of a strong demonic presence they have yet to identify. Where would Immortal and the others go? 

“Don’t waste your time thinking about the things that don’t exist in your world,” Immortal said. He gave the butler a critical expression, “I’m sure you’re curious about what my world is like, but that’s our problem to figure out.” 

Problem? Chevalier realized he was judging a group of people he had only met a few hours ago and felt guilty. It wasn’t his place to make opinions on something he didn’t understand. 

“Perhaps we’ll meet again under better circumstances,” Chevalier said. 

“Maybe,” Immortal’s expression softened. Despite his young face, there was age in his eyes. Chevalier didn’t understand why, but he sympathized with Immortal’s struggle to hold the team together. That was something he could relate to. “Maybe not.” 

“Can you at least tell me if you found the Dark El?” Chevalier asked when Immortal excused himself. 

The redhead broke into a burst of genuine laughter, “Would I be here if I knew the answer?” 

----------------------------   

Immortal 

Resting his head back against the palm of his hands, Immortal took deep and controlled breaths as Shakti had taught him. He felt his chest hover before deflating, letting his mind wander off into the distance and blocking out the pointless chatter around him. 

More waiting. Nothing he could do to speed it up. Time didn’t exist in Henir’s Time and Space, which was great because that meant the stakes were lower, but made the extraneous delay worse for the sword user. Immortal was itching to get up and find something to do. 

Paradox didn’t trust Glave, but it wasn’t a question about trust. Glave was useful. He had access to knowledge and power that could easily switch their position in their current battle against the demons. Immortal wasn’t going to ignore a viable resource, not when Glave was so eager to offer his services. 

It was torturous sitting around and waiting for Glave to do his thing and send them back. To hell with Glave saying their visit was unexpected. He knew the guy was keeping a careful watch on his group. Something about them having “potential”, whatever that meant. Glave was never confused when his team visited the administrator, often offering them valuable information they needed. There was no reason for Glave to begin being surprised by their appearances.

Immortal’s concentration was broken by girlish giggling. Scowling at nothing in particular, he opened his eyes to see Metamorphy pointing at Paradox while talking to Devi. The magical girl motioned a pair of cat ears with the use of her index fingers. Devi had a similar expression as Immortal, confused by Metamorphy’s chatter. Flame was amused and mouthed a few words Immortal couldn’t hear over the rest of the mob.    

“It’s hard to hear your own thoughts,” Nova commented. The older man settled down next to Immortal. “I’m surprised it took effort to find them.” 

“I’m surprised too,” Immortal mumbled. “We should have let Aisha lead.”

“She would be happy to hear that.” He could hear the smile in Nova’s tone without looking at the former mercenary. “Convincing Glave to let the paths crossover more than once was a bold move.”

“So was letting the Dark El take over.” Immortal balanced one of his blades to see his reflection shine over its glossy edge and smirked, “I’m a bold guy.”

“If you say so,” Nova chuckled. “I understand wanting to restore their dimensions, but why take the extra steps to let them transverse to our worlds?”

Portals weren’t a novelty for Elrios. Humans and demons alike have spent centuries toying with the idea of interdimensional travel, fighting to ignore the barriers placed by the gods to prevent them from mingling. In many ways, demons held very human qualities in wanting what couldn’t be obtained. If it wasn’t Knight or Rune’s teams attempting to use portals, Immortal was sure the demons would make additional attempts to break into another dimension. 

“I like to call it a haunch,” Immortal said. “Just in case something like this happens again. Besides, they could use the extra help.”

“In fighting Rosso?” Nova raised a brow. 

“Not so loud!” Immortal shushed him, “I don’t think they know about him yet, at least that’s what Paradox told me.” 

“Letting them know won’t hurt them,” Nova gently told him. “They already know they will make it because of us.”  

Immortal questioned if it was wiser to let the other El Search Parties know what they were getting themselves into. His team had barely scraped out of the battle with bloodied cuts and bruises that took days to heal. Unlike Knight’s team, they had no healers and relied on potions crafted by their alchemists.

What would he tell Knight and Rune? That they were going to be ambushed by a burning midget with a giant blade? Immortal sighed, frustrated by the dilemma. Their timelines were already tangled up thanks to Paradox. There was no use in hiding knowledge from each other, yet he hesitated.     

Their small team of eight grew at Rosso’s awakening. Paradox showed up when the first blood was drawn. When asked why, the time traveler shrugged with a mischievous smile. Immortal could never understand what went through Paradox’s mind and wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

It was one of the rare fights that summoned Iblis and Anular from the depths of hell. Iblis’s face was twisted with madness and delight in the pain she was able to inflict on their enemy, dragging Anular along on an invisible chain formed by their twisted bond. Their party was down to the last of its members able to fight when Immortal thought he saw red hair and a claymore before passing out. When he woke up, Bloody Queen was nowhere to be seen. 

“You think our help will be enough?” Immortal pondered on the implications of being able to regularly interact with his alternates. They were just a walking distance from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to face them. 

Nova noticed his hesitance. 

“You should check on them,” Nova followed his gaze over to the two red haired men talking to each other. “I’ll let you know when it’s time for us to leave.”

“What if they hate me?” Immortal was surprised by his own doubt, annoyed by how honest he sounded.  

“Before you finish that thought, I think they’re more concerned about their problems than about you.” Nova said without heat in his words, “They followed you through this plan because they believed in you. I think your appearance might be a breath of fresh air for them.” 

“You sure put a lot of faith into this eighteen year old,” Immortal laughed. 

“If age was a concern, I wouldn’t have followed you when we first met.” Nova smiled. “If they give you trouble, I can talk to them too.” 

“I don’t think that will happen,” Immortal laughed again. Knight and Rune were foolish, but had good intentions. That made three of them. He gave a mock salute to Nova with a toothy grin, “I won’t be gone for long.”  

It wasn’t hard to find Knight and Rune. They sat huddled together like they have known each other for years, speaking hushed whispers that raised Immortal’s radar. He forced those thoughts away, putting on a big smile as he was supposed to. Relaxed, waving at the two as if he wasn’t bothered by the idea of being the bringer of bad news that they were going to have to deal with a half-demon brat in a matter of hours, two weeks in Rune’s case. 

“Yo!” Immortal heard himself speak. He waved to them, “Fancy seeing you two here!”

“You’re the one who brought us here,” Knight waved back with a sigh. 

“I know,” Immortal kept smiling. “I told you I would help you guys get home!” 

“That felt a little too easy,” Rune said. “Do things always go smoothly for you?” 

“No,” Immortal heard Knight’s voice alongside his. He stopped to look at Knight, who wasn’t as surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” Knight stressed. The look on his face was one of someone who was exhausted from all the interrogating from others. Impatient, he pressed his hand against his forehead when he saw doubt in his alternates. “Maybe the things I went through weren't as long and strenuous as it was for you, but I have struggles too!” 

“Never said I didn’t believe you,” Rune patted Knight on the back. “Just surprised, that’s all.”

Even if Immortal had purposely avoided talking to Rune and Knight up to this point, he was envious of how easy it was for them to talk to each other. Knight and Rune lacked the tension in their shoulders, relaxed and eager to trust others. It wasn’t that Immortal couldn’t relax, but there was a constant nagging voice in the back of his mind. Conwell urged him to take the next step to avoid the uncertainty of death. 

“Did you make Raven worried again?” Rune asked. 

“Me? Worry him?” Immortal smirked at the idea,“When isn’t he worried? He’s going to get white hair if he keeps fussing like that.” 

“Ours already has white hair,” Knight said without humor. 

Having only caught a short glimpse of Rage from a distance, Immortal was only able to recognize the former mercenary by the monstrous arm. It was nothing like what Immortal was used to, a strange mesh of machinery and organic compounds.   

Rune threw his head back and let his hair flop over his face in uncontrolled laughter. Covered in runes, his appearance was a sharp contrast to Knight’s conservative armored look. It was amazing how consistent their looks were to their personalities. If not for their shared names, they could have been different people. 

“Anyway, I think it’s only fair I share some information about what’s coming up for both of you.” Immortal ran one hand through his hair. 

“You mean what was causing the earthquakes in Varnimyr?” Knight asked, “Yeah, Paradox mentioned something about that. Rune and I were talking about that.” 

“Did Paradox mention how strong the next enemy was?” Immortal asked. 

“We’re going to have to fight something stronger?” Rune laughed, “When is that not the case?” 

They were taking the news better than Immortal thought, maybe too calmly. He didn’t like how quick Rune was to accept his word. No hesitance or questioning involved. Maybe Paradox was right about him needing more caffeine. Knight blinked, letting the new information process before nodding in agreement to Rune. He looked at Immortal with interest and ushered him to keep talking. 

Well, that’s why Immortal was here - letting them know what they were getting themselves into. It wasn’t going to stop them from going after Rosso, because they were Elsword and none of them could ignore someone’s cry for help. If no one was going to fight Rosso, who would? The ones who felt the most connection to the El. Good gods, why did all of them have to be big damn heroes?    

“The enemy will be heavily protected from outside its tower,” Immortal explained. “You need to take down the barriers quickly before they overwhelm you. Make use of everyone’s abilities and distribute your strengths. If one person gets shot down, let someone else take over.”

“People died?” Knight looked alarmed. 

“No,” Immortal realized his wording and stepped back. “But you’re going to need all the help you can get.” 

“Is that why you asked Glave to let our dimensions overlap?” Rune asked. 

Immortal cocked his head to the side, “Am I scaring you yet?”

“Not really.” Knight’s brave front was betrayed by his face losing color. Clearing his throat, he said, “Telling us what you know will make the fight easier.” 

“Will it be easier?” Immortal asked more for himself than to the others. “I doubt things will ever be easy for any of us, but you’ll continue?”

“Of course!” Rune bumped his fist up, “Who the hell do you think we are?”

Knight nodded in agreement. 

“Figures,” Immortal smiled. “Then I see no point in stopping either of you from doing what you have to do.”

He sat with his legs crossed with his body leaned back, looking up to the stars surrounding Henir’s time and space. No wonder Glave kept finding excuses to leave this bubble and interfere with his group. There was nothing to see once the novelty in the monitor panels and space wore off. 

“What’s your team like?” Knight asked. 

“You already saw half of them,” Immortal said. “What do you think?”

“Blunt. They have a lot of energy,” Knight after some thought, clearly putting careful consideration into his response. How cute.   

“They have a lot of powers we haven’t seen before,” Rune commented. “Where did Paradox learn to use portals?”

“None of us know,” Immortal shrugged. “Metamorphy thinks Glave is involved, but that’s besides the point. Paradox does what he wants.” 

“You mean he isn’t with you?” Knight asked. 

“Yes and no,” Immortal said. “Our team is a little smaller than yours because we don’t travel together.” 

Immortal saw the wheels spinning in Knight’s head, taking in the new information and forming new questions to throw at the sword wielder. He caught the red-haired knight tongue-tied on whether to probe further. It didn’t matter to him. If Knight asked, he would let the other know that their team functioned differently. Having a smaller team didn’t bother Immortal. It made traveling easier and drew in less attention. 

“It must be hard fighting that enemy if you had a smaller group,” Rune said. 

“We’ve managed,” Immortal replied. 

Although Iblis, Anular, and Paradox had joined for the bigger fights, he wasn’t sure if they counted as allies. Their loyalties laid elsewhere, not in him. Anular followed wherever the corrupted queen went and Paradox had a separate agenda unrelated to the El. It was better than no help at all. He wanted to offer the two El Search Parties more than that. No one deserved to barely scrape by with burns and blisters on their sides. 

“I hope we get to see each other more after this,” Knight spoke up. His voice was quiet, but firm. There was determination in his tone. “Not just to help each other, but to talk. It would be nice to stop thinking about saving the world for once.” 

“You need to come visit!” Rune exclaimed, “Not sure how similar our worlds are, but it would be nice to take a break once in a while.”

“That sounds nice,” Immortal closed his eyes. 

Yeah… he liked the idea of that. When was the last time Immortal rested and didn’t stop to think about the state of the world? Traveling with his friends for the last several years was fun, but it’s been months since Immortal got to enjoy himself. Maybe he could ask COBO services for suggestions. 

“Elsword!’ Nova’s voice forced him to blink and look up. “Glave said he’s ready!”

“What do you know, it’s already time.” Immortal murmured to himself. “Guess it’s time to watch the world end.” 

“It’ll be okay.” Even Knight sounded unsure. He turned to Immortal for help, “Right?”

“Guess we’ll find out very soon,” Rune had an uneasy smile. “We have the front row seats to watch it unfold.” 

Immortal wondered what went through Rune and Knight’s minds as they passively sat there and witnessed a cruel image. Displayed on multiple screens was the same climatic scene of a redden world. Varnimyr was already red from the chaos caused by Rosso, but the portals have crushed the mountains and trees that made up the region. They dissipated into fine dust and sucked into the portals. The inhabitants’ cries were silenced by the light. 

A blinding light flared from where they stood, beaming downward into a distant galaxy containing the demon realm. Immortal watched the light consume what was left of the crumbling dimension with a promise of starting anew. His very being felt electrified in response to the Dark El in the demon realm inverting on itself.

Glave remained standing in silence. His fingers traced over a diagram of portals overlaying between different spheres of galaxies and interdimensional planes. The display of writing and symbols meant nothing to Immortal. 

“I look forward to watching the three of you make use of the reset” He heard Glave chuckle, “Don’t let it go to waste.” 

He watched as Glave manipulated something to make the lines intertwine before his body snapped into shock. Unable to hold his head up, Immortal lost his focus and closed his eyes. Glave’s laughter echoed in his head.    

[atomicblasphemy]

In the sign of evil

She kept thinking of her battle with the Emperor.

Not the battle itself, or how it would play out next time around, although it would be a lie to say such thought didn’t occupy her mind. After all, she made it through him with barely enough time to save Eda, King, and that other one.

Instead, what truly kept her up at night, what truly haunted her was what she saw in that creature’s eyes. First, she saw what could only be described as pure, unadulterated evil. Something Luz, who had thus far lived a mostly comfortable life, sheltered from the true perils of both worlds she knew, was unacquainted with. In her original realm sure she saw some small glimpses of it. There was the fact that she had for a long time been ostracized by her school peers, made to feel ashamed of being who she really was. But perhaps a more appropriate name for that would be the irreflected propensity for cruelty that some children, in both realms come to think of it, seemed to be obsessed with. Nevertheless, age and the ensuing experience it brings should rid most such children of these evil seeming impulses. And here in the Boiling Isles, even if she could count with a mostly reliable source of protection in her friends and, of course, in her mentor, she had not been unscathed from the semblance of evil’s claws coming to try and reach, abduct her from safety. She could, of the top of her head name at least four names for the list of unrepentant evil doers: Adegast, Tibbles, Boscha and, of course, Lilith. Then again, if anything, Adegast was motivated by sheer spite and while that alone made that monster a threatening foe, it might not be enough for him to entirely qualify to such a strong word as evil; Tibbles was a capitalist, his motivations were simply profit, an opportunist, which meant his approach to morality may be more than a bit lax, frankly Luz wasn’t all too sure whether to call that pig like witch evil or just immoral; as for Boscha, the same as for her bullies back in the human realm applies, whether she was truly an evil doer or just a misguided kid was for time to decide; Lilith, in all frankness Luz failed to come up with any significant argument to abstain her from the title of evil doer, but given how instrumental she was on freeing Eda and King from capital punishment, and then relieving her sister of her curse, Luz ruled in favor of conceding her the benefit of doubt.

However, the Emperor’s eyes… They carried within them an aura far deeper and so much more horror inducing than all of those past experiences combined. She was in those two wholes, those all consuming voids the bottoms of depravity. Ambition corrupted to its furthest extreme. Whatever that creature was, because she held close to her the belief that no witch nor human would ever be capable of conjuring such dread in her very soul, Luz prayed it had no peers, and she wouldn’tbelieve for even the shortest of instants that its plans weren’t boorish, as he himself put it. Truly, defeating that horror was imperative, both for her own sake, as well as for life itself.

Still, none of that was what made sleep avoid her. No, she had seen something else, something other than evil, in those bottomless pits. Something about which the girl simply couldn’t help but to allow her inquisitive mind to ponder.  

There was no mistaking it, she saw a glyph, one unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was intricate, one could even say that, had they been found elsewhere, that the lines and shapes therein were even beautiful, entrancing even.

Luz had replicated it in a small piece of paper, and whenever she found herself alone she would turn her gaze upon it. She knew what a Faustian bargain was, she had read about it in her literature class back at human school, but she never expected to find herself pondering whether or not make one of her own. On one hand, this could bring about the most nefarious effects and essentially grant her foe an uncontested victory, which might as well be tantamount to the destruction of both realms. On the other hand, maybe this could prove to be the source of a power to rival his own, and this could certainly be extremely useful in helping her to release everyone she knew, everyone she cared about, everyone she loved, from the agony of living under that tyrant’s ironclad fist.

She tentatively raised her finger towards the glyph, she had made several in an effort to make sure not to forget anything, down to the smallest detail. She wanted to activate it, she felt as though the risk could be worth it; she wasn’t a magical powerhouse, so whatever its effects were they wouldn’t likely be all that expressive. Right?

Still, it was to risky to do it alone. And she couldn’t jeopardize Eda’s well being further. No, that was unthinkable, luckily for her there were three young witches she knew she could count on.

----------------------------------------------------

“Luz, Amity said she would probably have to stay late in class today and its been almost half an hour.” Gus said, trying his best no to sound discouraging. “I can wait a bit longer, no problem, but maybe we should go ahead with it.”

“Yeah.” Willow spoke, equally trying to sound calming despite her nerves being entirely on edge. “Besides, we don’t what this thing does. And, I think us three should be about enough for this… experiment.”

The three of them sat on an empty classroom, four identical copies of the glyph sitting on a small desk around which the three of them stood, looking attentively at the pieces of paper. Luz couldn’t voice an answer. The decision weighed heavily on her shoulder. She rubbed her temples, hoping a solution would miraculously manifest itself. Amity’s presence, surely, would help her feel safer. After all, their bond had been growing steadily for sometime now, and having three powerful witches guarding her back was better than two. Right? Still, Gus’ and Willow’s words were sound.

She still can’t say a word, her breath coming with more difficulty now. She looks at her friends. She nods. And before either of them can stop her, she ignores her previous reservations and taps on one of the glyphs, activating it.

---------------------------------------

“Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late. I ran into Boscha and you wouldn’t be...lieve...” Amity, having just entered the not so empty classroom, felt her words run short. The view was horrid. One of Willow’s vines hung from the ceiling, imprisoning an upside down and surprisingly bored looking Luz. Flanking her stood two figures, a red piece of cloth on which they, despite the complete absence of any sharp objects in the room, somehow had cut a vertical for going all the way up to their noses and  a couple of holes for their eyes. In their hands they held wooden rulers Gus’s made ofillusion magic, long ones at that.

“Oh, hey there Amity. Can you… maybe… help me… please?” Luz whimpered at the only friend of hers currently in the room.

“What… is going… on here…?”

“BLIGHT. BLIGHT. We are so glad you are here. We were expecting you, yes, we knew you would come eventually. How could you not be here, we were expecting you, after all?”

The only way Amity could describe the unfolding scene was as an outbreak of evil. Her once estranged friend had a manic grin on her lips, not unlike that sported by Gus. Their voices, normally so friendly were tinged by something that scared her to her core. Something underlying withing it. No, they hadn’t such sepulchral voices as the ones she heard when they spoke. She couldn’t begin to understand the scene. They were her friends, they had forgiven her past undoings. More importantly, they were Luz’s closest friends in the Boiling Isles. It was all unfathomable.

“Seriously, what in the Titan’s ever loving Isles is happening? Why is Luz tied up? And what is up with those weird masks?”

Luz, seemingly having recovered some amount of fortitude was the first one to answer.

“Oh… Well… You see… Mistakes were made today… We were waiting for you, but I decided to just go ahead with that glyph experiment I told you about and… Now they are evil… Yup, their psyches are totally corrupted… My bad.”

“What?”

“And these, dear Blight, are the unholy evil shrouds with which we hide our identities.” Willow, still sounding ominous, continued with the explanation, pointing her index finger at the rag covering face. “With those none will able to stop as we ascend.”

“What?”

“Yes, dear Blight. Look, we even made one for you too... Actually it was for this ungrateful, unambitious… uhhh… she was going on and on about how ‘no, that’s not who you are’, ‘no, those smell really, really bad’” Gus continued, stopping to shake his head with disapproving eyes at Luz, who simply answered by rolling her own eyes in annoyance. “Anyway, we trust you, dear Blight, will not be as short sighted as this fool. Join us, dear Blight. Join us on our quest for power.”

“Ok, first of all, please stop calling me dear Blight, you sound just like Lilith when I was still under her wing. Second, I still don’t know what any of you are talking about.” Amity, recovering some semblance of sense finally managed to produce a coherent sentence. Two actually.

“Ah yes, dear Blight. We haven’t told you of our plans, have we?” Willow answered as the faint sound of Amity’s huff could be heard. “We shall take over the world, and we want you to join us. Soon the Boiling Isles, nay all the realms, shall tremble at the sound of our mighty RRROOOAAARRRS.” She actually made justice to that last word.

“Why? Willow, Gus… Why would you guys ever want to do something like that? Also… HOW?” She shoots wide eyed glances at the upside down Luz, who was now swinging back and forth, whether trying to loosen the grip of Willow’s vines or just to amuse herself Amity couldn’t tell. “Did… Did the glyph awaken some hidden power within them?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Yup… I mean, look at these things. Don’t you think they would have done better than that if it did? Like, Gus didn’t even conjure a couple of swords for crying out loud.”

“SILENCE, TRAITOR.” Gus yelled as he whacked Luz over the head with his illusion wooden ruler. “Now, dear Blight, you asked how we intend to achieve such, admittedly, ambitious goals. The answer is simple, dear Blight. By overthrowing that lowly Emperor and seizing the throne for ourselves. How else would achieve the power we so deeply crave?”

“Again… How exactly do you plan on doing that?”

They let out a loud “Ehh” while shrugging.

“We’ll figure it out as we go.” Willow attempted. “Besides, that’s where you come in, dear Blight. You were always the top student of this proud institution, were you not? You shall be the planner, I shall be the raw muscle, and Gus the charisma. We will make such formidable, unstoppable force, you’ll see.” Lifting that red rag with the hand not holding her weapon, Willow proceeded. “Now, put this on and join us, dear Blight.”

Amity sighed once. Then again. Rubbing her temples with both her hands she tried to process all that she learned since entering this forsaken room. She looked her the eyes of horror that took over her possessed friends. Raised both her hands in a deceivingly amicable gesture that actually aimed at eventually disarming the two of them. She, unlike them, had a plan.

“Now, guys. Why don’t we all calm down, talk this out? Willow, you could start by letting Luz loose.” Amity spoke, slowly walking towards Willow and Gus. Luz was still swinging back and forth to the point Amity actually began to believe it was out of sheer boredom, the again, she knew the girl had been in direr straits before. Gus’ and Willow’s began showing the faintest signs of suspicion. “I mean, think about it, you guys don’t even have a plan. And I really can’t help you with this one. But more importantly, this isn’t who you OUCH! What did you do that for?”

“BLASPHEMER!” Gus, having just beaten Amity over the head, yelled. The witchling’s strike actually felt like metal as the weapon collided with Amity’s.skull “How dare you, loathsome Blight, mock the brilliance of our design? THOU SHALL KNOW OUR WRATH!”

And, like that, Gus and Willow raised their weapons, to which Amity responded by bravely running in the opposite direction, looking at Luz in hopes of the girl offering her a solution, she just shrugged.

“I don’t know... all I did was activate the glyph and things started escalating pretty quickly.”

Amity thought of her short life. Had she had time to make up for her numerous mistakes? What would her family make of her demise? She, honestly, expected a more glorious death, perhaps even fighting the Emperor alongside Luz. Definitely, not by the hands of Gus and the girl she tormented and allowed others to torment for years, but maybe that was fitting.

She thought of Luz, she hadn’t had the opportunity to confess her feelings to her quite yet and that’s something she’d soon take to her grave. Until then, she would cherish every interaction, every word exchanged between herself and the human.

And then, two thoughts came to her. Although she possibly had just suffered blunt force trauma, this was done through the use of an illusion. A magical spell. Likewise, Luz was hanging from artificially, magically, created vines. Magic. They were all students of magic. Including herself.

Quickly turning around she summoned one of her largest abominations to date between her assailants and herself. Noticing the threat, Willow and Gus promptly shifted targets.

Progress was undeniably made.

But still, she had a job to do, and she just then noticed that amid the battle somehow a fire had started in one of the room’s corners. She had two jobs to do.

The other thing that had crossed the witchling’s mind, directly resulting from those last words Luz had told her. The glyphs. There were still three of the accursed things sitting on that small desk. A burst of brilliance commanding her to move forth. She held one glyph in each hand, admiring the design for a brief instant. It may be a long shot, but she was short on options. She took a deep breath, bracing all her determination. She had to save her friends, all of them, but especially Luz. She let out the closest thing she could think of for a half decent battle cry.

“TILL WAR!”

And she hit Gus and Willow with that mysterious magic. Now, she could only wait.

--------------------------------------------

Willow woke up, a weird smell assaulting her face. Her last memories were of being with Luz and Gus, as they went through with the glyph related experiment. She was laying on the hardwood floor, next to her Gus also seemed to be recovering his senses. Her headed ached, and judging by the grunts so did Gus’.

But that wasn’t the most surprising part of the scene. That title rested with the abomination happily waving at her while, horizontally, holding a vine wrapped Luz  over its head. She, smiled at them cheerfully. Next to them a small fire raged.

“Hey, you guys are up, thought it’d take longer. Anyway, still hellbent on overthrowing all known existence?”

“Wha… What are you talking about? What happened here?”

“Wait, I refuse to answer without today’s hero’s presence.”

As if on cue, a flustered Amity carrying a witch bucket - not to be mistaken with a human bucket - filled with water broke through the door with a loud bang. She quickly made her way to where the fire burned, making short work of killing it.

She turned around to face the newly conscious duo.

“Willow!” She exclaimed pointing at Luz. Willow quickly liberated the human, who immediately jumped towards Amity, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“My hero. And here I thought I was supposed to be the fearless champion.”

Normally, the way her pale face so easily reddened after virtually any amount of physical exertion was a constant source  of embarrassment for Amity. Now, however, she was thankful for it.

“So...” Gus, finally speaking, broke the moment. “Can you two please explain what happened?”

Amity and Luz shared a troubled glance.

-----------------------------------------------

That had been probably the most uncanny conversation any of them had ever had.  

“So, I think its safe to assume that this is some kind of dark magic glyph that turns everyone present, except the one who activated, it totally evil.” Gus said, pointing at the piece of paper on Amity’s hand. The girls nodded.

“That’s kind of like a curse isn’t it? I mean, if it wasn’t then Luz would have turned evil too, right?” Willow continued.

“Humm… Maybe… then that’d mean that the Emperor is cursed, so we could try to look into a way of reverting it... I don’t know.” Luz, rubbing her chin in an attempt to give off her most scholarly look, hypothesized.

“That is possible, but I don’t think it would be worth it. I mean, look what happened today, this kind of magic seems really dangerous. I vote against us looking into it any further.” Amity countered their arguments. The others, after some reflection, voiced their agreement. She continued, looking at Luz for permission. “So… Can I destroy this?” Luz nodded.

Her blood ran cold. As she performed the motions of ripping it a terrible accident happened.

She tapped the glyph. It activated. -------------------------------- @johnnysfire hope an eleventh hour entry is still acceptable

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decisions: 24

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(on ao3)

chapter warning: alcohol, drunk kisses

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, as nonchalant as he can, “hold onto something for me, alright?” Lan Zhan turns to him with a question in his brow, but he doesn’t hesitate to offer out his hand when Wei Wuxian extends his fist. He drops the five nails in a little tinkling pile, and a small furrow develops between Lan Zhan’s brows. Wiping his hands off on his skirts, Wei Wuxian tugs the dizi from his belt and spins it between his fingers. “Yin iron,” he says by way of explanation. It’s not that he thinks he’ll go crazy and start commanding puppets again or something. He’d have to reforge them anyway, try to remake the entire Seal — but he’s never been very good at leaving things alone. For now, maybe it’s better if he’s not the one holding onto them. Lan Zhan studies him a long moment before giving a short nod. The nails disappear into one of his giankun pouches, and Wei Wuxian breathes a little easier.

The kids are still weeping, huddled around a-Qing’s little grave. Watching them, he feels hollowed out, emptied, carved. Lan Zhan stands quiet beside him, but there’s a tightness to his stillness like he’s hiding a stab wound. Taking a breath, Wei Wuxian drags up a smile and claps his hands together. “Come on, kids, enough crying,” he says. “You’re going to shrivel up like plums. Let’s go.” They’re still sniffling, but they scrub their wrists across their faces and nod obediently. Good kids, Wei Wuxian thinks a little distantly. Good kids, to cry for the bravery of a girl they never met, to lament the tragedy of men they would never know. It’s a long walk back down to the next town, and he spends it gritting his teeth against the encroaching thoughts of everything they witnessed. Lan Zhan walks in silence, his gaze downcast. Behind them, the juniors are quiet for the first part of the walk before they start murmuring amongst themselves again. “But what will Song-daozhang do?” cries the Ouyang kid. Endure, Wei Wuxian thinks, or not. He probably will. With Xiao Xingchen’s spirit, fragmented and despairing, in his care, Song Lan will probably keep walking until his feet wear down to nubs. Wei Wuxian sneaks a sideways glance at Lan Zhan, feeling his stomach sink further as he catches the pinch of his brow. He wants to reach out, wants to give his wrist a gentle squeeze or brush his hand against his elbow, draw his attention here and now and away from whatever terrible seclusion his thoughts are folding around him. His fingers curl into his palm instead. Lan Zhan looks so rigid, so brittlely strung. Wei Wuxian thinks of the cast of his eyes when Song Lan turned and walked away, and he looks away. He's been avoiding remembering his death so much he hasn't even thought about Lan Zhan at the time. Now, with the memory of Xiao Xingchen's broken spirit like a weight in his palm, he can't think of anything else. Lan Xichen had said cultivators had tried to summon his spirit with Inquiry and other rituals. He can't know for sure, won't ask Lan Zhan, but he has a feeling these weren't the half-hearted attempts of punks trying to raise a scary ghoul. And he knows the cultivator most skilled in association with spirits. There's a heavy hollow in his chest, in the space behind his solar plexus. He doesn't remember being dead, but he remembers moments of dying. He knows enough about broken spirits to make a good guess at what happened. His soul was already in fragments by the end, cracked and splintered by the Burial Mounds and the war and the Seal and all he'd done to survive. Spirits that badly damaged follow three paths: either they're completely destroyed in death and fall out of the cycle completely, they shatter and disperse till they're absorbed back into the world's qi and either repaired or simply subsumed, or they cling. Stuck to whatever is nearest, whatever is strong enough to hold onto their fraying thread: a loved one, a spiritual weapon, a project the owner spent hours pouring their intention into. Spirits like that, spirits that have been so utterly ruined, don't answer any song. Their music has been broken, the strings snapped, the bamboo split. They don't want to be persuaded, are too damaged to have any desire to pull on. The only way to bring them back is to command them. Drag them back with blood and fierce intent. Lan Zhan spent so many hours after the war searching for music to heal Wei Wuxian, to turn him away from demonic cultivation and purge him of resentment. Did he spend those same hours searching for a way to bring him back, trying to figure out why his spirit didn't answer any call? Did he play for him, waiting for a reply that never came till Dafan Mountain? How many nights did he wait, hoping into the silence? He's grateful when they get to an inn and it's serving liquor. He can't be too reckless in front of the little juniors — some ingrained part of him still fusses at making sure they're safe and keeping an eye out for them — but he can down three bottles at dinner and only feel warm, a little softer. His thoughts don't hook quite as sharply onto the same clawing spirals. Lan Zhan's weirdly permissive, the way he was when they met Nie Huaisang. It's...nice. He can imagine shijie's worried frown, but Lan Zhan is a warm shoulder against him and he doesn't even scold Wei Wuxian for drinking too much in front of his little Lan disicples. Lan Jingyi does, however, scowl at him like he's somehow corrupting their esteemed Hanguang-jun. "I don't see why we can't drink if you can," Jin Ling objects, stabbing at his pickled cabbage. "Because you're a baby, Young Mistress," Lan Jingyi sniffs. "Babies don't get wine." "You!" Before Jin Ling can lunge across the table to Lan Jingyi, Lan Sizhui shifts up a little on his knees to block his access. Jin Ling huffs out a breath and sits back down. "Whatever. Father’s let me try some wine at least," he says. "I bet you couldn't even hold a cup." Lan Jingyi's eyes narrow like he can tell he's being prodded but can't quite figure out an answer. Swishing his third bottle absently by the neck, Wei Wuxian leans his shoulder into Lan Zhan's and shakes his head. "Drinking before you're old enough to fly? Jin Ling, what would your mother say?" he scolds. In his periphery, he can see Lan Zhan's gaze slant toward him as if at hypocrisy, and he hides a snort by taking another drink. "Mother can outdrink Father," Jin Ling says dismissively before freezing, eyes going wide and face flushing. "I mean! My mother isn't a drunk. She'd never—" "Being able to hold your liquor is an important skill in Yunmeng," Ouyang Zizhen says with all the authority of a fifteen-year-old who's probably never been drunk. "Da-jie says you should never underestimate a noble lady with fine wine.” Biting his bottom lip, Wei Wuxian tries not to laugh at the solemnity with which he offers this advice. It's not wrong, really. Shijie had taught Jiang Cheng and him drinking games on the end of the docks when they were old enough. She'd been able to go toe-to-toe with them before the war. He still remembers the first night they all returned to Lotus Pier after the war. How they'd wound up in a pile at the foot of the lotus throne, drunk and sobbing into each other's shoulders. They'd all woken up hungover, heads pounding and stomachs uneasy at the scent of food. For a few moments, though, as he slid into sleep with shijie and Jiang Cheng's arms wrapped around him and each other, he'd felt safe in a way he hadn't in years. "Yunmeng wine is the richest," he informs the juniors now. "Emperor's Smile is the best, of course, but Yunmeng has the most complex flavors. Qinghe's alright but the mare's milk takes a while to get used to."

He pauses, contemplating the liquor he last had in Lanling before realizing the juniors are all looking at him a little funny. There were only two tables left in the room when they arrived, and so their party is huddled around them like ragamuffin sprouts. "Senior Mo, have you traveled so much?" Lan Sizhui asks, and bless him, he sounds genuinely curious. Has he traveled a lot? It doesn’t seem so. He’d always wanted to as a kid, had grown up chasing stories of grand adventures and mysterious lands, but then the war had happened and then everything else and then, well. “When did you travel so much?” Jin Ling demands. “You never left Jinlintai and then everyone said you were locked up because you went mad.” “Jin-xiong,” Ouyang Zizhen hisses, looking appalled. Lan Sizhui’s staring resolutely at his empty bowl, his face white as his robes, and Lan Jingyi’s eyes are about bugging out of his head. Wei Wuxian kind of wants to laugh, but there’s a well of melancholy rising in him, too. How horrible was this Mo Xuanyu’s life? His wrist pangs, and he reaches absently to close his hand around the hidden cut. “What? It’s true and anyway he’s my — well, he was in my sect. So,” Jin Ling says, crossing his arms again. “He is worthy of your respect.” Lan Zhan’s voice is a low vibration through Wei Wuxian’s bones, spreading from the point where their shoulders are still pressed together. He doesn’t speak sharply but firmly, like it’s imperative Jin Ling listen. Wei Wuxian swallows, throat abruptly dry. It’s not like— well. He knows Lan Zhan holds him in — in some kind of esteem. He’s an idiot, but he’s not that oblivious. There was a time, once, when he was bleeding open and snarling at anyone who came close, when he thought Lan Zhan just viewed him as a project to fix, yet another example of Hanguang-jun’s righteousness. But he knows that wasn’t fair, couldn’t even hold onto that anger for too long — not when Lan Zhan got so upset when Wei Wuxian wouldn’t talk to him, not when he insisted he was still his soulmate, not when he stepped aside at Qiongqi Pass. He can’t quite understand why, but he’s accepted the abundance of evidence that Lan Zhan, for reasons comprehensible only to him, thinks he matters. It’s different to hear that aloud, to hear it in firm words and Lan Zhan’s most adamant tone. Something wobbly and warm tips over in his chest, like a jar of wine tilted precariously on edge. As fond as he is of the juniors, he suddenly doesn’t want to stay down here anymore. He wants to be able to hear Lan Zhan say his name again, the way the syllables are so soft and full in his voice. “Hey, Lan Zhan, we ought to check on our buddy,” he says, looping a careless hand around his wrist. “It’s been a while since we played for him.” Lan Zhan blinks up at him, brow wrinkling a little like he's worried something's wrong, and Wei Wuxian can't help smiling back at him. So much is wrong — the whole world's spinning on a bad axis — but he's here and Lan Zhan's here with all this stubborn loyalty and for this one instant, Wei Wuxian's greedy heart doesn't want anything else. He snags another couple bottles on their way up the stairs, and Lan Zhan's frown deepens a little but he says nothing. Upstairs, they set the giankun pouches careful distances from each other and settle into their nightly routine: Suppression, then Calming, then Cleansing, then Rest. It's not a perfect system, but the set works well enough to keep the various body parts from tearing through their giankun pouches as long as they do it regularly. It's gotten more difficult with the addition of each new body part, and now that they've added the torso and arm from Yi City, they wind up playing through each song three times before the pouches finally settle and stop rustling. Humming in quiet satisfaction, Wei Wuxian leans on his elbow and lets his gaze fall on Lan Zhan as he puts away his guqin. He does it all with such exquisite care, such unified focus. Not like Wei Wuxian, whose thoughts scatter and ricochet off each other in all the directions of the wind. He laughs a little, and Lan Zhan looks to him in question. "Hey Lan Zhan," he says, "remember when we first met Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan back in Yueyang?" A hint of sadness enters Lan Zhan's eyes, his eyelashes flicking down as his brows furrow. Wei Wuxian spins the bottle absently within the circle of his middle finger and thumb. "Back then, I thought we might be like them," he says. "You know, going off to fight evil and protect the weak."

He'd been so delighted, awed, over meeting his shishu and his companion. Looking at the two of them, their sure confidence and easy trust in each other, he'd nearly tripped over his own feet to show how he and Lan Zhan were like them. He’d felt something unclick in his chest at the sight of them, understanding like a lotus bloom unfurling. Now, he thinks of Shanghua a white gash across Song Lan's back, and he thinks of Lan Zhan's desperate voice in the rain of Qiongqi Pass. How naive, how hopeful. "Who would have thought such noble cultivators would meet such terrible fate," he remarks. “Ended so miserably for something that had nothing to do with them.” The thought makes him a little morose, dampens the pleasant golden fuzz that’s been filling him. “The world is truly unpredictable,” Lan Zhan says, flat. His fingers brush Wei Wuxian’s, pluck the bottle from his hand as deftly as any pickpocket. Wei Wuxian gapes, staring as Lan Zhan tilts his head back and downs the last of the bottle. “Lan Zhan?” he squeaks. Setting the bottle down, Lan Zhan blinks a little into space. Oh no, Wei Wuxian thinks. He vaguely remembers getting Lan Zhan drunk once in Cloud Recesses and a deep sense of exhaustion from wrangling him. This time, though, Lan Zhan makes no move to get up. His hand moves slowly to prop up his forehead, and he nods forward, eyes closing. Wei Wuxian stares. “Lan Zhan?” he prompts, leaning forward. No answer comes except for Lan Zhan’s slow, even breaths. A laugh bubbles up out of Wei Wuxian, and he claps his hands over his lips to stifle it. Oh no. This is too cute. He reaches out, smiling, to brush a lock of hair out of Lan Zhan’s face. It’s as soft as it’s always looked, sleek and silken against his hand, and Wei Wuxian runs his hand absently back against the crown of Lan Zhan’s head. “So pretty, Lan Zhan,” he hums, swaying a little as he leans against the table to study Lan Zhan’s face. “We really are lucky, aren’t we?” Relaxed in sleep, he looks so young. Wei Wuxian’s seized with an absurd urge to protect him, to bundle Lan Zhan up and take him far away from the world and its greedy, demanding hands. Lan Zhan deserves better. Lan Zhan should never look so desolate, so horribly alone as he did watching Song Lan walk away. “Young master?” Wei Wuxian startles hard enough his elbow slips on the table and he nearly cracks his chin on it. He whips around, a little unsteady and hand tight around his dizi. Wen Ning’s eyes blink at him from upside down through the window. It takes a long moment for him to make sense of the position. “Wen Ning?” he demands. “What are you doing?” A flurry of grey and black, and Wen Ning lands neatly inside the room. He’s wearing a dull blue-grey, the color some of the outer Jiang disciples pick for night hunts or training, and his hair’s been pulled up into a neat bun on the back of his head. Wei Wuxian squints. "I'm sorry, Wei-gongzi," Wen Ning says, still kneeling where he landed. Wei Wuxian frowns, crossing his arms and tilting his head. The shackles are gone from Wen Ning's wrists, which is good, though he still has — well, a lot of questions. Is Wen Ning part of Yunmeng Jiang now? Did Jiang Cheng adopt him? He tries to remember if Jiang Cheng ever mentioned wanting a little brother and finds himself looping back without an answer. "Come on, Wen Ning," he says. "Stand up, won't you?" Wen Ning's head dips lower, so that Wei Wuxian can see the plain grey ribbon wound round his hair. Well, at least it doesn't have lotuses embroidered on it. He'd have even more questions then. "Ah, well then," he says, and flicks back his skirts to kneel. "I guess this is alright." Wen Ning looks up with a jolt, brown eyes going wide. "Gongzi!" he yelps. "No, you mustn't!" He tugs on Wei Wuxian's elbow as if to lift him up to standing, and Wei Wuxian uses that to pull him up as well. He keeps a hand on Wen Ning's arm to make sure he doesn't kneel again and raises his eyebrows. "See? It's much better to talk like this, isn't it?" he prompts. Wen Ning doesn't look convinced, but he stays upright, so Wei Wuxian counts it as a win. Releasing him, he drops his hands to his hips. "Now, what's happened?" he asks. "What do you remember?" "Not much," Wen Ning admits, shaking his head a little. "I remember being chained up somewhere dark. Someone would come check on me, I think. I don't remember what they looked like, but they smiled a lot. I remember them putting the nails in my head." Wincing, Wei Wuxian swallows. He'd hoped that Wen Ning didn't remember that part at least. "It must have been Xue Yang," he says. "He also used nails to control Song Lan." "Why?" Fatigue settles into Wei Wuxian's bones like a heavy blanket. Trust Wen Ning to still question why someone would want to seize power over another, even when faced with the man who first did the same to him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he presses his palm to his inner arm till it pangs just a little. "Probably at the behest of the Jin sect. He was a guest disciple there for some time, Lan Zhan said," he explains. Wen Ning accepts this with a slight nod. There's a dismal cast to his eyes and brow, like he's about to wade into some task he'd really rather avoid. "Jie told me some of what happened since, and I heard from some others," he says. Wei Wuxian brightens at the mention of Wen Qing. For all that she maintained a horribly professional facade of indifference, she was great at gossip. She probably had all kinds of insights into the last thirteen years. "Jie said that the Burial Mounds are gone," Wen Ning says. "Our family...they're all gone." The wind cuts out of Wei Wuxian's sails abruptly, and he inhales sharply. He hasn't let himself think about this. If he thinks about it too much, he'll have to wonder if the seals he painted on their houses gave them any protection or just trapped them where the sects could burn and murder them. His stomach gives a funny, nauseous flip. "Young master, I heard that Jiang-zongzhu killed you," Wen Ning says. He sounds miserable, like he's revealing some great failing of his own. Wei Wuxian's shoulders sink and he sighs, waving a hand. "No, that's not how it is," he says. "Jiang Cheng didn't kill me. It was the backlash of the Stygian Tiger Seal." Has the whole world been left thinking Jiang Cheng killed him? Maybe it's for the best. Yunmeng Jiang had still claimed him up to the end, after all. They would have been in a tricky situation, too clear a scapegoat for the Yiling laozu's misdeeds. If everyone thought Jiang Cheng killed him, at least that would clear some of the blame. At least Jiang Cheng would know the truth. As long as he didn't blame himself, it wasn't such a bad arrangement. "Young Master, you died in such an awful way," Wen Ning says, and then his knees are bending, dropping back down to the floor. "I shouldn't have left you." "Wen Ning," Wei Wuxian gripes, tugging on his arms. "No, enough of that. You didn't leave me. I – I shouldn't have sent you away like that. I never should have threatened you." Wen Ning looks up at him with big, sad eyes that would be tear-filled if Wei Wuxian hadn't taken that away from him, too. Swallowing hard, he pulls on Wen Ning's wrists till he's standing again. His shoulders are still bowed forward, but it's an improvement. "What else have you heard?" he asks, already dreading the answer. Wen Ning looks up, his eyes brightening a little. There's such a terrible earnestness to his expression, that childish hope he'd seen first in Cloud Recesses. He can't help smiling a little reflexively at it. "Ah, young master," he says. "We have a niece! She's very kind and energetic. And jie is expecting another baby. She thinks it's going to be a boy."

Tears sting Wei Wuxian's eyes unexpectedly, and he gives out a shaky laugh. Of all the outcomes in the world, he never expected to see both sides of his haphazard family brought together like this. Even if he never gets to meet this little niece and her expected brother, he knows they're safe and happy. It's enough. "Yeah?" he says. "What are they going to name him?" Before Wen Ning can answer, there's a blur of white in the corner of his eye and then a boot on Wen Ning's chest and then— Wei Wuxian stares at the new hole in the wall where Wen Ning and Lan Zhan both disappeared before shrieking and chasing after. He was asleep! How did this happen? Outside, Wen Ning is picking himself up off the ground while Lan Zhan frowns down at him. He’s left Bichen and his guqin behind and seems to be planning on staring Wen Ning into defeat. It’s not a bad plan, really. No one has as intimidating a glare as Lan Zhan. “Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, what are you doing?” Wei Wuxian bleats, grabbing hold of him around his middle. Lan Zhan turns to him and gives a solemn nod that answers absolutely nothing except that he’s clearly still drunk. Wei Wuxian groans. “Ahh, Wen Ning, are you alright?” he asks, leaning around Lan Zhan’s side. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just drunk.” “I’m alright, Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning says. Still pressed close to Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan frowns and leans a little to the side as if to block his view of Wen Ning. Wei Wuxian has to stifle a laugh even as he wants to groan. Lan Zhan would be so embarrassed if he saw himself. “Will Lan-er-gongzi be alright?” Wen Ning asks. “Yeah, I’ll just take him up to the room and he’ll sleep it off,” Wei Wuxian says. Lan Zhan turns a little towards him, still tucked up close, and it’s like a parody of a lover’s hold with him nestled in the circle of Wei Wuxian’s arms. His heart skips a little at the thought, at the jolt of want that shoots through his chest. To have it be real, to have a reason to hold Lan Zhan like this that isn’t corralling his drunk shenanigans. Clearing his throat, he lets himself tighten his arms around Lan Zhan and look over at Wen Ning. “It’s probably best if we talk another night,” he says. “Be careful and stay safe, okay?” There’s a hint of a smile on Wen Ning’s face as he bobs his head in an emphatic nod before turning and disappearing into the woods. A hand closes around Wei Wuxian’s wrist, and he looks up to find Lan Zhan staring intently at him. “Wei Ying,” he says. “Don’t go.” A giggle escapes Wei Wuxian and he stifles the grin he can feel slipping out. Where is he going to go? “Lan Zhan,” he teases, “what are you going to do? Tie me up so I can’t run off?” Lan Zhan blinks at him a moment, and Wei Wuxian’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Mn,” Lan Zhan says abruptly and reaches up behind his head. By the time Wei Wuxian’s brain has kicked back on, Lan Zhan has removed his forehead ribbon and started wrapping it neatly around his wrists. He watches, mouth parted in silent shock, as the white loops around and around, neatly covering his bracers. Lan Zhan ties it off in a series of knots that look almost like a braid, and Wei Wuxian tests it absently. It’s firm but not uncomfortable, the metal medallion resting just below the notches of his wrists. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Wuxian looks up. “Stay.” His eyes are honest and sad, like he really thinks Wei Wuxian’s going to leave him standing drunk in the forest without his forehead ribbon. Reaching up, Wei Wuxian pats his chest awkwardly with both hands. “Don’t worry, Lan Zhan,” he soothes. “I’m not going anywhere. Let’s just go back inside, alright?” Lan Zhan nods and starts toward the door with a tug on the loose end of the ribbon. Wei Wuxian trips after him, trying desperately to stifle the giggles that keep bubbling up out of him. He feels young again in a way he hasn’t for years, like they’re still just kids in Cloud Recesses, trying not to get caught by Lan Qiren. Only it’s not Lan Qiren who catches them this time. Entering the dining room, they find all the juniors still there — now trying frantically to hide the wine they’ve clearly picked up in Lan Zhan’s absence and gawking at the two of them. “Ah! Hanguang-jun,” Lan Sizhui greets, a little too bright, “how did you—” Right. They’d been upstairs before Lan Zhan kicked a hole in the wall. Wei Wuxian scrambles for an answer. “Lan Zhan heard something outside,” he says, “but it turns out it was just you all sneaking liquor.” He tries to make his voice sound disapproving, but he’s not sure how well it works. He is...not sober. Whoops. Lan Zhan gives a little tug on the ribbons, as if to start toward the stairs, and Wei Wuxian stumbles forward with it. There is a gasp too loud to be anyone but Lan Jingyi. Oh no. All the juniors are now staring at his wrists and the Lan juniors have gone white as death. He knows he read rules about the forehead ribbon back when he had to memorize them all. Something about restraint. Restraint, restraining— “Right! Lan Zhan was just showing me a special use of your clan forehead ribbon,” he says quickly. “To erm restrain fierce corpses when you need to take them back for further study.” “That’s not—” Before Lan Jingyi can finish, Lan Sizhui has clapped a hand over his mouth and is smiling brightly at the two of them. “How clever!” he chirps. “I thank our seniors for showing us such a hidden skill.” Lan Zhan gives another tug, this time more adamant, and Wei Wuxian gives a little wave to the juniors as he’s led up the stairs. They really look horrified, all big eyes and open mouths. Back in their room, Lan Zhan leads him to the bed and sits down carefully on the edge to face him. He’s so serious! Wei Wuxian laughs, letting his hands fall between them. “Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s tone is almost helpless and his fingers are light as a feather as they brush against the curve of Wei Wuxian’s cheek. He looks up, laughter fading as he catches Lan Zhan’s steady gaze. On impulse, Wei Wuxian turns his head just enough that his lips graze Lan Zhan’s palm. There’s a quiet breath, but Lan Zhan makes no move to pull away as Wei Wuxian’s hands lift up to cradle his. “Lan Zhan,” he murmurs against his knuckles. “Lan Zhan, you’re too sweet. Too sweet, too sweet.” He presses a kiss to his fingertips, to the base of his thumb, the point on his wrist where he can feel his pulse jumping. He looks up through his lashes and Lan Zhan is watching him with lips parted, eyes dark and intent. “Do you like this?” Wei Wuxian asks, still watching as he slides Lan Zhan’s sleeve back a finger’s width to press his lips to the skin there. Swallowing, Lan Zhan gives a slight nod. Wei Wuxian hums and pulls him closer by his wrist, hands settling over his chest. His heart’s beating so quickly, like a rabbit racing under Wei Wuxian’s palms. “Lan Zhan,” he says, looking up at him, “tell me. Did you burn joss paper for me?” There’s a beat where they’re sitting there, suspended, Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled into Lan Zhan’s collars and then Lan Zhan moves. His lips are soft, form, his fingers tangling in Wei Wuxian’s sleeves. Wei Wuxian gasps softly in surprise and then presses in, crowds into Lan Zhan’s space.

Gods, Lan Zhan is kissing him. He’s kissing him, all that impossible focus bearing down on Wei Wuxian like his lips are a new field of study, the noises escaping him a new score for Lan Zhan to learn. Lan Zhan is kissing him. Oh gods. Lan Zhan is kissing him. Lan Zhan is drunk and he’s kissing him and Wei Wuxian started this and is kissing back and— He jerks away, shoving them apart with his hands on Lan Zhan’s chest. Lan Zhan stares at him, eyes wide and reddened lips parted as if he were still kissing Wei Wuxian and — and then Lan Zhan’s eyes widen impossibly and he reaches up a hand to smack the heel of it into his forehead. He collapses backwards, unconscious, onto the bed. “Oh fuck,” Wei Wuxian breathes, covering his face. In the morning, at least half the group is hungover — including Wei Wuxian. His head’s pulsing with a fuzzy thickness, like someone’s drumming cotton-wrapped mallets against the back of his eyes, and even breakfast left him feeling queasy. He can’t meet Lan Zhan’s eyes, but he can summon up all his unused uncle instincts and round on Jin Ling as they prepare to depart. “Stop arguing with your uncle when you get back,” he scolds. “Don’t come out night hunting alone anymore. You’re too young! Why are you in such a rush?” “I’m not a child!” Jin Ling snaps back. “That dog Wei Wuxian wasn’t much older when he killed the Xuanwu of Slaughter, wasn’t he? If he can do it, I can beat him!” Recoiling, Wei Wuxian grimaces before reaching back to rub at the nape of his neck. He’s pretty sure that’s not right. They were older than Jin Ling when they got stuck in that cave, and anyway— “Isn’t Hanguang-jun the one who killed it?” he protests. Jin Ling stops short, lips twisting to one side like he’s tasted something bitter. “You and Hanguang-jun… Whatever. I know about the Gusu Lan headband so if it’s going to be like this, then” — he swallows, two bright red spots rising in his cheeks — “just make sure to stay by his side properly. Don’t bring any more shame to Lanling Jin.” “The headband?” Wei Wuxian echoes, feeling some new horror growing in his belly. The headband just means restraint — right? It’s just an old tradition. “Shut up! Stop being so shameless. I’m done talking about it,” Jin Ling snaps. He looks away, crossing his arms. There’s something about his frown, the way his eyes have focused on the ground a few steps to his left that makes Wei Wuxian cant his head, waiting. After a moment, he looks sideways up at Wei Wuxian. When he speaks, his voice comes out small. “Are you really Wei Wuxian?” he asks. Wei Wuxian’s heart stutters in his chest, but he just raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Do you think I am?” Jin Ling studies him a long moment before huffing out a breath and dropping his arms. He looks almost…disappointed? “I don’t know,” he says. “No. Cousin Yu always said he was a great cultivator and you’re clearly not. And jiujiu said he was taller than Hanguang-jun. So.”

He clears his throat and turns, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Behave yourself and don’t, you know, get yourself killed. I guess,” he says over his shoulder. A fond smile curls up Wei Wuxian’s lips at the brusque care. What a little monster. As Jin Ling returns to his own disciples, a Jiang disciple approaches. She’s the eldest of their group, tall and angular with a placid expression that nearly rivals Lan Zhan’s. He’s caught her looking at him funny over the past day, and every time, some sense of familiarity niggles at the back of spine, but he can’t quite place her. “Thank you for assisting us,” she says, saluting neatly before reaching into one sleeve. “I believe Jiang-zongzhu would like you to have this. Our da-shixiong designed it.” The talisman she hands him is familiar, the calligraphy for a different reason. His breath catches, eyes going a little wide as he looks back up to her. “Little pirate?” he asks. Sun Hai smiles abruptly, like a crack breaking through glass. There are tears in the corners of her eyes as she gives a quick little nod. “Little pirate!” he exclaims, something like grief and elation together winding tight around his chest. “Not so little anymore — you’ve grown up so much! You were as little as Jin Ling when I saw you.” The last time he saw her, she’d just hit a growth spurt that left her gangly and awkward and mortified by the lack of control she had over her own limbs. In the last weeks before the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, he’d promised to help her practice modifying talismans in exchange for her not hiding away in her rooms every time she stumbled doing sword forms. Now, she’s lean and tall and carries herself with the kind of grace shared by dancers and swordmasters: fluid, strong, and quick. With her sword at one side and other arm folded at her waist, she looks all grown up. “It’s good to see you, shixiong,” she says, smiling even as a tear slips loose down her cheek. “We’ve really missed you.” Oh. His fingers tighten a little around the tracking talisman in his hand before he catches himself and makes them relax. He gives an unsteady smile. “Yeah,” he says. Clears his throat. “Yeah. Me, too.” She lingers another moment before drawing in a breath and straightening up. With another quick bow, she turns and heads back to where a little cluster is waiting for her, watching curiously. Wei Wuxian watches a moment before turning his gaze back down to the talisman in his hand. He recognizes it, though it’s been a long time. He originally designed it to keep track of a-Yuan when he went racing off around the settlement, dashing away from supervision. Had he sent a copy to Jiang Cheng? He must have. He sent so many absent ideas in his letters back then, anything he thought might be of use, anything that to help make up for the trouble he was causing. His throat feels thick with something, the headache clustering with something unsteady and unsure fluttering in his heart.

[iheartkyloren]

Wanting him to feel all the wonderful things she was feeling no matter how painful, she grasps his face, abruptly smashing her lips against his.

Teaser +

Her eyes glare eerily hollow into his own, before he chokes her name out through a sob, yanking her to his chest. “Rey,” he pleads uselessly. He has fucked up bad now. He should have worked with her more closely, trained her himself and left his allegiance to the First Order behind. It had always been his contingency plan, but the darkness always weighed heavier in his mind. They could have used the power of their Dyad to change the Force entirely and the politics of the galaxy right along with it. He was losing his other half. Half a of a Dyad he was blind to. He knew she was something different, special. He was so consumed with power his ego wouldn’t let him see clearly.

It had been years since he had felt so vulnerable, years since his mother’s voice crept inside his head. He felt the dip in the Force while she was dying, but a piece of her clung to one last fragment of hope, her energy almost fully waned. She speaks to him now through the Force. Reminding him, I love you, Ben. SHE loves you, don’t let her go this easily. Don’t give up. You are my stubborn boy, just like your father. Use that to pull her back. I know you sense her lingering. It is time you remember where your roots are from, you ARE as strong as you grandfather. He found the light in the end, and so will you. I love you, my son.

Tears are matted to his cheeks as he cradles Rey back into his arm placing his hand upon her belly. Closing his eyes, he sends energy into her core giving her a portion of his life’s force, willing her back to him. Be with me, he thinks knowing he can only give so much, or the attempt would be pointless. He won’t leave her behind. Not when he has finally, found a way to accept his love for her.

Even in death she is beautiful, he considers the smoothness of her skin, though pallid now, he only sees the sun-kissed marks she acquired living on Jakku. As he waits for the Force to work its way in, he is swaying her gently to assuage the panic coursing through his thoughts. He closes his eyes tight to pull back in the next round of tears with another choking sob, believing it is taking longer than it should. He can feel his nerves begin to fray, soon they will turn into that numb sensation he is so used to. The place he would go after his father, Han, had left him behind with his mother, Leia, so many times. That is when the dark began to claim him. It wasn’t Snoke, the Emperor or anyone else, but the despair of a traumatic childhood. It wasn’t validation for his acts, for the murderous snake he became. He could see now how his father had loved him, and the trauma was meant to be Han’s own pain, not his.

Rey had been the one to make him feel emotions again that didn’t align with anger and rage. When they first met in the forest of Takodana, the spark ignited when he took in her scared face through his mask. He could see the brave in her so desperate to be seen, but maybe he saw what the Force had wanted him to see instead. It was hard to tell. All he knew for sure is the Force had said not to kill her, but his memories are so fuzzy now holding his hand firmly to her. Knowing only a minute or so has passed, his mind racing to keep his rage at bay. If… no, when he brings her to, the first thing she sees will not be a fit of rage.

His eyes search her face, looking for a sign of life. She lay still in return, her eyes blankly looking back into his. He yanks her to him again, hugging her to his chest protectively. “I’m sorry, Rey.”

Description +

Ben is suddenly aware of how much he needs Rey, and Rey is fighting to save him after he sacrifices everything for her. When they end up captive on the new Resistance base trying to make sense of each other and why they have the bond they do, they find that it won't be easy to convince the rest of the Resistance that Ben is no longer Kylo Ren. Survival is imperative, but nearly impossible if they want to explore their relationship. Together, at last, can they make it work?

Mature/Erotic/Fluff/Angst

Complete

Word Count-  51,605

Personal Note+

After my writing colleague jumped ship and my computer died a couple of years ago, I stopped writing altogether. This is my first attempt back into fanfiction after having a series published. It wasn’t a huge hit or anything wild, but it did fare well amongst the group it was intended for. Only wanted to mention this as my skills have dampened up over the years, and this was my first exercise in writing since that point, but I just could not handle Ben Solo fucking dying. Fuck that shit, what a damn awful way to break thousands of hearts. Listen friends, we as a fanbase, as Reylo’ers, deserved more than a death. Hell, I’d have taken a fucking Force Ghost of him in the end watching over her. Something that escalated their bond even through the death would have even been fine, but not he’s dead sorry, see ya. The biggest psyche out in my opinion and should be nearly criminal. I’m all for understanding the end of a character, but give me reason to understand the end of his character after all of the build between them. Give me fucking something... I was oddly devastated, angry, and exceptionally frustrated that I invested years into this ship to see it go down in flames with no completion even in death. So, I wrote. It brought the writer in my soul back to life and I have been at it since. So thank you my fellow Reylo friends and family, and the ship of all ships, for giving the writer in me purpose once again. To forever breathing life back into Ben Solo.

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