Archive of Our Own ^beta

The only time Dimitri didn’t mind being holed up in the nursery was when his friends were there with him as well.  He knew when he saw the staff preparing Duke Fraldarius’s favorite dishes or turning down the bed in Margrave Gautier’s favored guest room that the time was fast approaching.  Without them, he spent lonely days with his tutors, having no one else his age around.

Honestly, he felt too old to still be in the nursery.  In a year’s time, he would start his training. Father said that he would oversee it personally along with Gustave.  Dimitri couldn’t wait for it. It meant he wasn’t a baby anymore (which he wasn’t already). For the time being, however, the nursery was the best place to set up their base of operations.

He especially liked when everyone was together, like today.  Dimitri watched Glenn parry with the stick of candy he had brought, moving with grace and ease like a proper swordsman.  Glenn, Dimitri thought, was terrifically amazing. If he had a big brother, he would like him to be like Glenn. Felix didn’t know how lucky he was.  Any time Glenn did something for a bit of a laugh, Felix would go crying to Sylvain who would then make a big scene out of it. He did the same thing if Felix and Dimitri ever fought, which happened a lot.  He sometimes wished that Sylvain would take his side, but he only seemed to see Felix’s.  And with Glenn, Dimitri didn’t get it, because Glenn was the best ever!  He never understood why Sylvain always got involved, but father said that there was very little Sylvain could control about his own life.  Dimitri didn’t really get what that meant, but he figured that it meant that Sylvain was allowed to be bossy sometimes.

Right now, Sylvain was trying to read a book but Felix kept climbing under his arm to get a peek at the words.  There was a fresh bruise high on his cheek, but no one brought it up. Dimitri would see them frequently when Sylvain would come to visit: bruises or scrapes on his face and arms.  Once, he had his arm in a sling when he and his father came to the palace. No one talked about where they came from, least of all Sylvain. If anyone ever asked, he would launch into a grand and exciting story about how he got them, which probably wasn’t true.  Or he would say that some of his bruises had shapes and try to show them. The only shape Dimitri had ever noticed during those times was one on his neck that sort of looked like a hand.

Ingrid sat nearby, doing needlework.  She had come in complaining about how her father was making her learn it, but once Glenn had said that it would help teach her precision to help her in being a knight, she seemed a bit more interested.  From what Dimitri could see, she wasn’t really good at it, but he liked the way she stabbed woven fabric like she was going through with a lance.

Glenn stepped deftly over his own feet and spun, striking hard with the stick of candy.  He regarded it for a moment before crouching down to hand it to Felix.

“Here you go, Fee.”

Felix took it and licked it twice before wrinkling his nose and handing it to Sylvain.  Sylvain, still reading, took it without complaint.

“I don’t like sweets,” he said. “You know that.”

To that, Glenn tipped his head back in laughter.

“Ah, that’s right.  You’ve such a refined and grown-up palette for someone of your age.”

“Stop saying stupid words, Glenn.” Felix pouted and folded his arms.

Glenn laughed again.

“Say,” he said once he stopped. “I’m getting bored of being in this old nursery.”

That made sense.  Glenn was older than them, even Sylvain, and he was going to go to the Officer’s Academy before becoming a proper knight in the Kingdom.  The thought of it excited Dimitri, because him being his knight meant that he got to spend all the time with Glenn that he wanted.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Sylvain closed his book and tossed it to the side.  He stuck the candy stick in his mouth and jutted his chin out to try and look authoritative.

“I thought of a game.”

Dimitri leaned forward, his interest piqued.  Glenn always came up with the best games, even if they sometimes got in trouble for them.  Ingrid put her needlework down and turned, eyes big.

“A game?” she asked. “What kind?”

Glenn smiled in a way that made Dimitri realize that he had probably thought of this game some time ago and he was waiting for the right time to introduce it to everyone.

“I say we have a race,” he said.

“On horseback?” Ingrid was looking at Glenn with shining eyes now, fully interested.

“Yuck,” Felix said, wrinkling his nose.

Ingrid whipped her head towards him so fast that she nearly smacked herself in the face with her braid.

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t like horses,” he said. “They smell awful.  Like bran-farts.”

Sylvain started laughing and Ingrid glared at him, too.

“Not on horseback,” Glenn said, moving his hands in a placating nature.

It was for the best.  Dimitri didn’t want to hear another lecture from Ingrid on how amazing and important horses were and he liked horses.

“Then what?” Felix asked.

Glenn put both of his fists squarely on his hips.

“We race to the throne room.”

Dimitri was very glad, suddenly, that his caretaker left Glenn in charge.  They weren’t wholly banned from the throne room, but it was generally considered off-limits.

“The throne room?” Sylvain was interested now.  He leaned forward from his seated position, a grin on his face. “Oh, yeah?”

Glenn nodded. “Yeah.  Whoever sits on the throne first wins.”

He didn’t offer a prize, but Dimitri already knew what it was: pride.  Being able to say you beat everyone else.

“Alright,” Dimitri said. “Let’s do it.”

It seemed his word was final in this case because only after he agreed did everyone get to their feet.  They gathered near the double doors, which Glenn threw open with a flourish. He turned towards them, tucking some of his overgrown, dark hair behind his ears.

“Ready?” he asked.

The four of them nodded in unison.

“On your marks...get set...go!”

They took off all at once, rushing out of the nursery and down the hall.  They seemed to be at a similar pace until they rounded the first corner.

“No fair!” Dimitri heard Felix bleat from behind them.

He glanced over his shoulder and--oh, right.  Felix had the shortest legs out of all of them.  Sylvain dashed back and, in a fluid motion, pulled Felix on his back in a horsie ride.

“C’mon.  Now we can both go!”

On his much longer legs, he easily overtook both Dimitri and Ingrid, even carrying Felix.

“That’s cheating!” Ingrid called.

Glenn watched Sylvain rush past him and frowned.  He stopped for a moment and turned towards Ingrid.

“C’mon, Lady Ingrid, future knight of the Kingdom, allow me to be your steed.”

Ingrid’s cheeks painted themselves red as she wrapped her arms around Glenn’s neck.  He hoisted her up and held her legs in place before taking off again. Dimitri had made the mistake of pausing to watch and now he was behind everyone.  It definitely wasn’t fair that he was the only one without a partner. He tucked his head down and pushed himself to run harder.

Dimitri knew he had one advantage over his friends and that was how well he knew the castle.  He was able to duck down corridors no one else saw and cut through rooms he knew took him where he wanted to be.

Even with this advantage, though, they were all evenly matched as they burst into the mercifully empty throne room.  Dimitri broke into a sprint, channeling all of his energy into moving his legs forward. The burst of speed helped him and he was the first to reach the throne.  He hoisted himself up onto the blue velvet cushion.

“I won!” he said, partly in amazement.

Felix schooled his face into a scowl. “Dima cheated!  I saw him cut through rooms.”

“You were all running together,” he said back.

Glenn carefully placed Ingrid down on the ground and stroked his chin.

“He has a point.  I think with our advantages combined, it was still a fair race.  So--all hail Prince Dimitri!”

He dropped into an extravagant bow that made Dimitri’s cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“Your Highness…”

“No...just Dima.  I’m just Dima,” he said, firmly shaking his head.

Glenn seemed to notice something in his voice, something even Dimitri himself didn’t detect, and nodded.

“Alright, Dima.  But I do look forward to one day serving both the Crown and you.”

“Me too!” Ingrid said, voice wavering with excitement. “I’m gonna be a knight, too.  Me and Glenn together!”

He smiled warmly at her. “For sure.”

Felix didn’t seem pleased with that.  He wiggled until Sylvain let him down and folded his arms over his chest.

“You all get to be knights and junk and I’m gonna be stuck alone at home, being a stupid Duke…”

Glenn reached forward to ruffle his hair.

“That’s the price of having a Crest, Fee.”

That seemed to only deepen his pout, so Sylvain pulled him close.

“Don’t worry.  I’ll be stuck being Margrave so we can be stuck together!”

Felix’s jutting lower lip began to recede. “Really?”

“Yeah!  We can see each other every day, even!”

Felix turned and looked at Sylvain, eyes wide.

“Every day, you promise?” he asked.

“Yep!” Sylvain beamed down at him.

“Forever and ever ‘til we die?”

“Of course.”

He was placated for the moment and Dimitri caught him smiling in a pleased manner.  He was glad his mood had improved--even if they argued or Felix would sic Sylvain on him, he was still his best friend.  Dimitri jumped down from the throne.

“Come on,” he said. “Before someone comes in and we get in trouble.”

Together, they all headed back to the door.  Dimitri trailed a bit behind, watching everyone’s retreating backs.  He couldn’t help but smile at what everyone said. Ingrid and Glenn as his knights.  Sylvain and Felix coming to visit when they could just like their fathers did. He didn’t know what being King would be like, but he knew his future would be okay if all of his friends were in it.

--

The green crept in slowly with the new month.  Had Dimitri the mind for it, he would almost say that it was poetic.  The green after the winter, entering Faergus far after it began anywhere else.  The days were warmer, especially with the sun out, but the nights were still chilly.  The snow was gone, but the rains remained, leaving everything with a wet feeling hanging in the air.  Even here, back at the monastery.

Dimitri could feel it: the wet, the green, the cold.  He couldn’t before, maybe couldn’t have for years. For five years it felt as though there was a curtain between him and the rest of the world, or a cushion.  There was nothing but ghosts whispering in his ear and blood on his hands. Now the curtain, heavy and gray, had been pushed aside and here he was: just Dimitri.  It had taken Rodrigue dying. Taking a blade meant for him from an angry, angry young woman. Afterwards, Caspar had come up to them. He had split from the Empire in their school days simply to study with Byleth but stuck around after the war broke out.  He apologized, said he wished he had seen the girl because she was his aunt and he could have warned them that she was with the Empire. If he had seen her...but Dimitri didn’t blame him. He didn’t blame her, either. She was part of the cycle of vengeance just as Dimitri had been.  He wondered if her brother whispered urgently in her ear or guided her knife.

But he was trying to get beyond such thoughts now.

He knew there was no use dwelling in the past, no use letting himself be beholden to ghosts any longer.  And he couldn’t. He had a duty as King. He had a duty to his friends to begin to make up for his actions.  He could not erase them, but he could move on from them. That was what Byleth told him and maybe he believed those words.  He hoped. Goddess how he hoped.

“Brooding again?”

It had been quiet here, just Dimitri and his thoughts (no ghosts, no screams, no blood), but he didn’t begrudge the voice.  He turned to see Sylvain had joined him upon his lonely, crumbling rampart. For the first time since they all came together once again--fulfilling some silly, youthful promise--Dimitri registered Sylvain’s face.  Five years hadn’t changed him significantly. His hair was a bit more tame, but it was still a cowlicky mess. Dimitri angled his face to get the best look at him. His face was a bit thinner, or else his jawline seemed sharper.  There was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been present before. A darkness, even.

“I’m not,” he said, finally answering his question. “Just thinking.”

“Seemed pretty broody to me, but hey, what do I know?” Sylvain gave a chuckle and drew up next to him.

They were of a similar height now, Dimitri noted.  That felt strange. He was used to Sylvain being taller in addition to older.  The way he held himself, especially when he became the oldest in their group. After Glenn...but Sylvain was never suited for that role.  He would be the first to say that.

“Are you thinking about Rodrigue?”

“Somewhat.”

Dimitri didn’t know what else to say.  He couldn’t put what he was feeling into words.

“I think about it,” Sylvain said. “Death, I mean.  Not his specifically.”

He already knew that.  There was something about Sylvain that always made him interested in death.  His own, mostly. Ingrid used to say she worried about him when he would talk about it, always so casually.

“I’m trying not to, now.”

“Hm.  Good point.  Do that.”

Sylvain gave a laugh but it felt half-hearted at best.  There were gaping holes in many of Dimitri’s memories, but always there, never forgotten, was the closeness the four of them had had.  Five, with Glenn, and even after he died, he thought it could remain. It could endure the Tragedy, but it couldn’t. It had broken them.

He didn’t know how to say this to Sylvain or even if he should bring it up, at all.  But he didn’t get the chance.

“There you are.”

Dimitri knew that Felix wasn’t talking to him.  He barely did, even before. There had been a brief glimmer, when he spoke to everyone, when Felix called him Dimitri.  Not “The Boar” and not even “Your Highness.” Just his name, like he always wanted. When he said it, there had been very nearly a softness in the thin, set line of his mouth that reminded him of before.  When he was his best friend.

Felix looked different, too.  Not just how he wore his hair, but the way he carried himself.  Opposite of Sylvain, his eyes were less flinty. While Dimitri was at his nadir, Felix had matured a bit.

“You found us.”

Sylvain reached out to touch Felix’s hip and let his hand linger there for just a moment too long.  Dimitri wondered how long that had been going on and that he had missed it.  He vowed to do better. When the war was done, he would find a way to bridge the gap between the four of them.  It wouldn’t be the same, but it could be better.

“What are you even looking at?”

Felix stepped forward to stare down the rampart at the darkened ground.

“Riveting,” he deadpanned.  He turned and said to Sylvain, “I came to get you to come to bed.”

“I will.  And then you will.”

Felix screwed his face up, the pinkening of his cheeks visible even in the gloom.

“Oh, shut up.”

Sylvain’s laugh sounded more genuine, then.

“Don’t be embarrassed.  It’s just Dima.”

The name sent a bolt straight through his chest.  Dima. He hadn’t heard that in so long. After he and Felix had had to suppress that rebellion, he had ceased being Dima.  Not just to him, but to everyone. Ingrid and Sylvain were suddenly formal towards him, to say nothing of Dedue. He wanted all four of them to throw away his title and just treat him as their friend.

It was as if Sylvain knew exactly what to say in this precarious time in Dimitri’s mind.  A way to pull him towards what he wanted and where he needed to be.  He always was more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for.

They stood there, not one of the speaking, but neither Felix nor Sylvain chose to leave either.  It was as if they were each waiting for someone to make a move. Maybe for Dimitri to dismiss them or Felix to roll his eyes and say “Whatever, come on, then,” and drag Sylvain off.

“No one told me about a tactical meeting.”

Ingrid’s voice was wry when she stepped out onto the rampart.  To Dimitri, she had changed the most. At least physically. He wasn’t used to seeing her hair short or her bangs swept away from her forehead.  What didn’t seem out of place, though, was her armor. She looked to be made to wear it.

“How’d you know we were up here?” Felix asked in a huffy voice.

“We weren’t up to any trouble,” Sylvain added. “We’re being good.  Right?”

Dimitri realized he was speaking to him and so he nodded.

“Dedue said he had seen you all come up here.  So of course, I had to see for myself.”

A small smile tugged on the corner of Ingrid’s lips, like she was happy that they were all together.  Or Dimitri was projecting onto her how he felt. The four of them, it felt right.

“Right,” Sylvain said again. “Let’s go, then.  No use in standing up here.”

Dimitri nearly told them to go ahead, that he still needed to adjust to how he felt after everything, after finally coming back into himself.  But he didn’t. He walked with them, feeling included for the first time in a long time.

“Where are you off to?” Sylvain asked.

“The dining hall.  Raphael said there was some leftover Oghma wolverine stew he wanted to share with me.”

“Oh?”

Sylvain waggled his brows.  As they walked, Dimitri noticed the way he let his hand linger on Felix’s shoulders and how Felix didn’t really seem to mind.  His mind thought back to before the Tragedy, when his memory wasn’t so patchy. Sylvain carrying Felix on his back as they raced.

“Don’t make assumptions,” she said sharply.

“I just can’t believe you found someone who can keep up with you in the dining hall,” Felix said dryly.

“Maybe after you eat all that meat, he’ll show you his--OW!”

It was like a scene from before.  Ingrid punching Sylvain in the arm for saying or doing something inappropriate.  Felix joining in, but not getting punished. Dimitri outside the scuffle, chuckling to himself.  Best of all, it felt natural. It felt, despite the war, despite everything, they were still them.  They were broken but they could be mended. Dimitri believed that now.

He followed them down from the rampart with a renewed energy in his gait.  This month would be warmer, he thought, because not only had they found their way back to each other, but Dimitri had found his way back to himself.