[In her state she does not begrudge the time he takes to catch up. After all there is so much he was meant not to know. Many a plan relied on his confusion and ignorance. His hatred and rage. She was to be his blood red moon, and him a wild wolf chasing and howling after her in a blind hunt.]
If he was I never knew him as such. My first memories of Volkhard von Arundel that I can remember are of him smuggling me into the Kingdom. To me he was a cold man. Harsh, strict, and unyielding like steel. If I ever stepped out of line I was quick to know consequences for it.
[Physical consequences? No, not until she returned to the Empire. The consequences he gave her came in the form of emotional manipulation, verbal discontent, and the unfair power dynamic an older man holds over a helpless nine year old child. There was a reason she looked so afraid when he called to her the day they were to return to Adrestia.]
But back then I was a tool to him. And now he knows of me as little more than a finely crafted weapon to wield, and he is not wrong. You could say I was not born to rule, but instead made for it.
[ The mention of consequences summons his eye back to her, and the ember of something crackles in him. Something primal. ]
Consequences? Do not tell me that man dared to--
[ He's lunged forward before he realizes, his tone raised by a few octaves. That something he felt, that beastly rage he had tried so hard to bury... It was all still there, neatly blended with a side of protective instinct he didn't know he had-- at least, not over an enemy. But perhaps, this isn't Edelgard he sees; it's his childhood friend, the girl who used to mean the world to him.
(Even now, he still holds her dear; right now, he wants to just hold her.) ]
This is all so... preposterous. [ By the work of a miracle, he manages to hold himself back, but that primitive fire is still there, scorching his throat, choking up his words. ] If that man mistreated you so, then why did you side with him? Why do you continue to fight the Church? Why won't you--
[ Why won't you join me, he wants to say. But that, too, burns to a cinder. ]
My fight against the Church is complex, Dimitri. It may not have started out as my fight. I may be their weapon. However I found a way I could make this my own. I reclaimed the fight of merely unseating the children of the goddess to something more. But before I continue I need to ask you something, Dimitri.
[She shies away from his half-lunge not unlike a person leaning away from a dog attempting to jump on them.]
Would you rather live a life of ignorant bliss, or be tormented by the thought of a looming enemy you may never touch? Even if that enemy never meets you in battle, it might release itself on your grandchildren's grandchildren. It may not be a threat again for another hundred, or maybe even thousands of years, but it's there.
[At first she thought she'd grant him that one mercy. She'd force herself into a grotesque monster to encourage him to land the final blow. And with her dead, and Professor at his side, he could move on. Live a happy life without the knowledge of her past or the people who hurt her.
But her drunk self... it pulls out her longing. The tiny ache in her heart to be with her childhood friend. Her first love. The last person who knows her as "El" even if she insists she died the day she was brought back to the Empire.]
[ There's a pained frown when she shies away, and he wonders if she was scared of him. Even if she remembers their past now, he couldn't blame her if she was. Sometimes, even Dimitri was.
So he takes a step back and keeps his distance, letting her words sink in. Even as he tries to parse them, there's so much that's beyond his comprehension. Edelgard speaks of being their weapon, but whose? And who are the children of the Goddess? None of that makes sense to him...
Until something finally does. ]
I already live a life of torment. That will not change until the day I die.
[ Already, he is doomed to listening to the screams of the dead, clinging to his soul... To remembering the faces of those he killed and carrying their sorrows, to living in eternal regret over those he could not save. Most of all, he will have to forever live with the guilt of having abandoned his people in their greatest time of need, and allowed himself to buy into a lie for the sake of pursuing unwarranted revenge against someone who, he now realizes, might have been just as much of a victim as him. All because he was left in the dark. Because he didn't know.
He can never bring the dead back. But this much, he can still change. ]
I have faced away from the truth for far too long, but that is no more. If there is another enemy I must fight, then I will shoulder whatever burden comes with the knowledge. So, please, share it with me.
Very well. Try to recall each time you have faced my imperial forces. Remember the mages with the plague masks? Their magic strange, and their tactics more ruthless than the rest? Recall the horrible sight of Remire village? Kronya, and Solon? They are all connected. I do not know their real names, but if there is a true enemy of Fodlan it is them.
[But why, Edelgard, did you agree to side with them? Why accept their toxic help? Well... whether or not it's something she wanted to do, it's something that was necessary. It turns her stomach but in all honesty she was never really "saved" from the dungeon. Merely let out because the experiments were concluded. Ended in "success". Her physical chains merely became invisible. A new kind of binding.]
[ Mages with plague masks... Yes, of course he remembers them-- and he especially remembers the incident at Remire village. Much like those from the Tragedy of Duscur, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to forgot the screams.
But that... still makes little sense to him. Edelgard still associated with them, still had their help and offered them support in return. If she claims those are the true enemies of Fódlan, then... isn't she much like the same? ]
Knowing that, you still... chose to stay by their side. To aid them in their plans... or to have them aid you in yours.
[ He takes a step back, his frown deepening. No, that can't be right, can't be so black and white. ]
Tell me, Edelgard. Are you, too, an enemy of Fódlan?
[ He doesn't think she is; doesn't want to believe she is. ]
I was... convinced to work with them. Initially I had wanted to take them out on my own, but what use would that be? At the time I was nothing more than a child. Besides, our uncle Volkhard von Arundel is one of them. I have spent more of my life under his so called "guardianship" than either of my own parents.
[What is a girl, malnourished and body strained from years of experience to do? Claw at her makers like a cornered rabbit and guarantee their unending and careful watch of her? Or does she play nice lying in wait like a snake in the underbrush ready to strike?]
Fodlan was already experiencing unrest before I started this war. The tragedy of Duscur, Lord Lonato's rebellion — those are only two of the many stirrings that led up to where we are now, Dimitri. Fodlan cannot face its final foe before shaking off the shackles of the Church.
[ Lonato's rebellion... Yes, he'll admit Rhea's judgement and following punishment of all implicated parties might have been too harsh, but... Duscur? Is she implying the Church was involved in that much, too? But what could they possibly have to gain from slaying their biggest ally in the Kingdom...?
There has to be something else. She's feeding him disconnected pieces, and he can't figure out the puzzle just yet. ]
Then tell me, Edelgard. How is the Church at fault for the ordeal Lord Arundel submitted you to? How did the Church turn you into a weapon, and why do you wish to eliminate them before the people directly responsible for what happened to you? And--
[ A pause, a sigh welling forth. Out of all his questions, this is the answer he dreads the most: ]
[It's difficult for her not to give in pieces. Between being tipsy so her train of thought isn't exactly linear, and... finally being honest it's just a lot. Her heart feels heavy. Dark. He bombards her with questions he has every right to ask, and yet all she wishes to do is shrink away and say nothing. However her stubbornness, her pride, does not allow her to recoil or retreat. Instead she simply settles down in the grass with her back against a tree. The moonlight reflecting in her hair.]
Why should I not fight on my own? Who would even choose to fight by my side?
[Clearly not the professor, who she had desperately hoped would because they share the same Crest.]
[ If he knew that's how he's making her feel, he would probably apologize, but he just can't help himself. For so long, he's desperately wanted to talk to her, to understand what drives her towards such radical directions and to find that path they can both walk together... Now that she's finally given him what may as well be his last opening, he just can't afford to waste it.
But... she's only a person, still. Tired and overwhelmed as she is, and so human in her vulnerability. So much more like the girl he once knew, rather than the Emperor he waged war on.
Eventually, he settles for joining her, with just enough distance between them so his presence wouldn't be overbearing. He kneels on one leg, and like this, they are closer together, both in height and in goals. So close that they could maybe, finally reach for each other. And so, he does.
Weapons and spells may be dodged, but words and feelings cannot. All he has to offer is the gesture, and his aching heart poured over an open hand and a single name. ]
El.
[ He'll fight with her, if she allows; if she does not, then to the very end, he will fight for her. ]
[Why? Why must he say that name? Sure he spoke it before, at the parley, when he gave her the dagger. However that was different! She was sober, and... Hubert and the Professor were there. It was much easier to convince herself to keep her cool at the time. However now he says her name like a prayer. A plea.
Her glass heart, no longer clear but instead opaqued by uncountable scratches, feels as if it might crack. Edelgard cannot stand to look his way. Absolutely not. If she sees his eye — blue and clear: the color of the sky, ocean, and freedom — staring at him through his hair — golden and mussed: the color of the sun, bales of hay, and representing happiness — she might just break. Even now she can feel her eyes water, but Edelgard falls back on old habits. She widens her eyes ever so slightly hoping the air will dry out her tears and save her from the embarrassment of being honest with her emotions.]
Did I not say... that girl was gone?
[Curses... her voice is wavering. Her faltering heart clear in her speech.]
[ That waver, that glisten just barely threatening to spill, none of it escapes notice. None of it fails to reach him, an immediate reflection in his own eye and voice. ]
If she was... then she would have joined them a long time ago.
[ His father, Glenn, his friends... Their endless screams, ringing forevermore in his mind. All the people he could never have again by his side, yet shadowed his every move, the people who held on to him from the beyond, an inescapable grasp reaching for his soul. The people he could not save.
But, that girl? She's not a gravestone hanging on his neck. She breathes, and cries, and lives, still. She is right here, just an inch and a world away. ]
Am I to be condemned to that fate once more...?
[ He cracks in his speech and in the way his eye stings and in every shaking fiber of a body that can no longer fight the inevitability of the past, but refuses to accept a future that can still be changed. He breaks and caves and crumbles, in all but that hand, open and firm and safe, ready for the taking. Reaching for her, always. ]
El... Will you, too, become just another voice in my head?
[That hand upsets her. A promise with no thought of the future behind its gesture. No thought of its consequences and what accepting it might mean to her. What is to happen if she takes that hand? After five years of war against the Church, Rhea and those loyal to her would not let her live. They, and perhaps most of the people wishing to maintain the status quo, will call for Edelgard's head. Demand and execution even more public than Lonato's. Make an example out of her, even if Dimitri would plead for her.
Quicker than a tipsy woman has any right to be, Edelgard grabs the wrist of the hand he offers and yanks him toward her. She aims to upset his balance he has and pull him onto her lap. She wishes to pull him close, look him in the eye, and force him to see her truth.]
Listen to me, Dimitri! I fight against the church because it has twisted normal men to side with monsters like my uncle in hopes of power. With the church's glorifying of crests why wouldn't an already corrupt noble agree to the torture and killing of children to see if one can falsify greatness by stealing it from others? Do you not wonder why none of my ten brothers or sisters ever attended the academy? Because they are dead! They are dead, and it is the love of crests and their power that killed them, and it nearly killed Lysithea as well.
I cannot live in a world that continues to allow that system to exist, Dimitri. They will not let me.
[ A promise with no thought? No, not at all. Rather than the screams of the dead, this time it is the living he seeks counsel from, the voices of reason who never stopped calling out to him. Head of noble houses and commoners alike, his friends have urged him to seek a peaceful end to the chaos. They do not wish to see more bloodshed, the Professor-- current head of the Church-- doesn't want to see more bloodshed. Why can't Edelgard see that?
His reasoning is right there, at the tip of his tongue, but suddenly forgotten as balance is swept away from him and he finds himself pressed against her, free arm as his only support between himself and her lap. But the surprise in his eye doesn't come from the abrupt shift; rather, it comes from realization. ]
... so all this time, you, too, have been chasing after ghosts.
[ Soft, and not a hint of judgement; how could he, when he had been much the same? The guilt of surviving, being moved by those who were gone and their lingering regrets, so blinded by grief over what could never be returned that he forgot about those that could yet be saved... He understands that, like no one else. He understands her better, too, like he's wanted for so long.
He only wishes it could be any other way, rather than through choked sobs and watery eyes that threaten to spill. ]
El, you listen to me. [ It's hard to keep his voice steady, and he may need a pause and a blink in between sentences, but he proceeds. ] I, too, have seen what crests can do to us. A dear friend who is seen as a bargaining chip rather than someone with her own aspirations, brother fighting brother out of resentment... and now, your siblings, as well.
[ Ingrid, who feels more tightly bound to her sense of duty than her desires, and Sylvain who has all but lost his self-worth as a person... Their troubles might pale in comparison to suffering of the imperial children, but they are there, and Dimitri isn't blind to them. ]
As a system, it is flawed; I know that. But I also know that it is not beyond change, and we can accomplish that as long as we work together, not against each other. There is no need or sense in ending lives so to save lives, and that includes yours.
[ He hoists himself up as best he can and sits in front of her, his arm freed from the strain. And like this, he can lift a hand to cradle the side of her head, never forcing, but asking with a look and no words. He's listening to her truth; will she listen to his? ]
You claim they will not let you live, but I will not let them have their way. Let us stand together, so that world will not stand still.
Y—you promise me that everything will be all right... but— but that is childish. How naive it is to assume the people's whose lives were burdened by this war would not call for my head. Would not call for my blood to be spilled in the streets to prove that turning against the Church was wrong. Do you really think peace will come while I still live? Do you not think that unrest will still be sparked in the hearts of others who believe passionately that Fodlan should shed itself from its crutch, the Church?
If I am not dead the fighting will continue. If you do not pierce me with the blade of your spear Fodlan will suffer from others taking my place and burning through villages until the Church disbands. I know this because the people my uncle works with will make it so. They have to know me dead before they stop.
[Though it's possible that even if she does die the Agarthans shall simply bide their time for a few generations. Wait until all those who knew of their existence die out before attempting another upheaval.
What he offers her is too sweet. She's always had to cut her sweets with the sour of citrus or the tartness of fruit to manage enjoying them without guilt or the feeling of childishness. She cannot accept his sweetness, because she is undeserving of it. The blood that stains her, the horrors of her past, the ugliness scarred into her skin, will not allow it. His sweetness better off given to someone else. Someone who won't shy away from it like a shadow shies away from the sun.
But that final gesture does break her in some way. No amount of holding her eyes open wide in attempt to dry them could prevent the fall of tears now. As he cups her cheek he'll feel the wetness stain his gloved hand. Her skin burning hot as salty tears sting her eyes and tumble toward her chin.]
[ Too sweet? No, not at all. He is but a drizzling of sugar over bitter, bitter truths, just a thin coating over layer upon layer of utter decadence. The blood that stains her is the same he carries in his hands, the scars in his body noting but faint lines compared to those in his mind, and yet even a monster like him could find acceptance and a place to belong, right among the very people he left behind for so many years.
The people who suffered through the ravages of war, those who lost their homes and their lives, they, too, do not wish to see any more bloodshed; he believes in them. ]
Your blood would just be more red painting the carnage, but what good would it do against those you claim to fight? Years, decades or even centuries down the line, long since it has dried out in the soil and your name has been forgotten, what or who could stand up to them?
[ His voice falters again, despair slipping through the cracks, but he must not-- cannot cave, not now, not when he's closer to finding understanding than he's ever been. There are still far too many ghosts, too many shadows that haunt him, and though he is no sun, right now, he can be a single ray of light. ]
I never said everything would be all right; that would be a childish thought. What I promise you is that whatever battles we forge henceforth will have meaning, and bring lasting peace long after the grandchildren of our grandchildren have passed on.
[ His gloved thumb wipes off hear tears, and lingers on her skin whether they continue to trickle down or cease to drop entirely-- from her eyes, if not from his. ]
But I cannot do this alone. The people of Fódlan need us. And I... I need you, El.
[ Together, they fight for a nation; alone, he fights for her. ]
[She moves as if to turn her head away from him, but... Edelgard cannot seem to muster the will to pull her face away from his hand as he cradles her cheek and brushes away her tears as they fall. She's unable to hold them back now as he continues to try and fight for her. For them.
I need you.]
No, you do not. I am sure with the professor and your friends you will be just fine when I am gone. Let this end here.
[ Let it end here, and then move on to a battle where one has to kill the other? No, he refuses. For one, she hasn't told him everything she knows-- she cannot tell him everything she knows in her current state. But, most of all... ]
How could I ever be just fine with your blood in my hands?
[ He has enough stains as it is, names he didn't know, faces he'll always remember. But Edelgard would never be just one more, not before he knew what he does now, and certainly not after tonight. ]
The Professor, my friends... I would not have made it this far without them by my side, it is true. [ He continues to stroke her cheek, pausing only to try to find wisdom in his heart. ] They are all precious to me, and I will be grateful for their support until the day I die. But...
[ His other hand will join its twin, hold her face between his large palms. Thumb away tears that insist on falling. ]
But they are not you, El. No one could ever replace you.
[ Who she was to him, once. Who she still is to him now. ]
[She already made it clear it did to her. Stating that his words kept her heart strong enough to survive. She's always cutting her own path where she can. Sure she could have just waged war on Rhea with no reason to it, but she spun the motive to liberate the people of Fodlan who felt the burden of their societal castes that revolved around crests.
Her end goal to carve the Agarthans out of Fodlan and spare the following generations seems impossible now, and she just wishes to die along with her dreams.]
[ There's an arch to his eyebrows for a second, but it fades with a sigh, and understanding dawns upon him with a smile so feeble it barely tugs at the corners of his lips. ]
Have you... only just realized it?
[ The year they spent together, his last days of youthful innocence, his first and only love... It had been the time of his life, the kind of happiness someone can only hope to be so lucky to experience even once. If his words had given her strength to survive, then the hope to see her again had done the same for him, in many ways. Could she really not see it?
A rueful laugh joins his smile, a shake of his head tipping his tears down his cheeks. What a fool he has been. ]
I suppose that dagger truly must have been a poor choice to convey my feelings properly. I am not sure I know how to do much better now, but...
[ He leans in, his forehead on hers. ]
You do not have to shoulder this burden alone, El. Let the path you cut be ours to walk together.
[It scares her to think how long he held a candle for her. How guilty she feels now knowing she had forgotten him so easily... though perhaps "easily" is unfair to herself considering the trauma she went through. She had thought that maybe he considered their year together sweet, a nice reprieve from royal life, but...
To be clutching to it like a lifeline, as she did, even though he's had so many friends support him... the professor support him... she doesn't understand it.]
I am not sure where to go from here. The path I cut ends where you win, Dimitri.
[ It might be hard for her to understand, but while it's true he has many friends supporting him along the way, he's also lost so much-- so many. He could not bear the thought of losing even one more person, least of all one who once meant so much to him; one who always would. ]
It only ends if you cut it alone, El. We can press on ahead, together.
[ It's because he has his friends and the Professor by his side that he learned the real meaning of forgiveness; it would be terribly unjust, not to offer her the same acceptance. To let her die alone chasing a lofty goal, like he otherwise would have.
(He never wants her to feel alone again.) ]
As for where to go from here... we can make that decision together, as well. [ He dares to continue to stroke her wet cheeks with his thumb, to give her a small smile through his own dwindling tears. ] There is more you need to tell me, and even more we must discuss. And I suspect these desolate mountains do not make for a suitable place for such a lengthy conversation.
If I do not make it back to camp Hubert will assume the worst.
[And yet her hand rises to rest over his as she nuzzles her cheek into his palm. The red in her face now unclear if it stems from the wine she got drunk on or the recent crying. Either way the chill of the mountains, despite the warm month, makes her old scars ache. Her body would be happy to retreat anywhere warmer. Even wrapped up in furs when she lived up north she had always complained of the cold. A southern flower through and through.]
[ She is so vulnerable like this, so soft with her cheeks against his palms, seeking the warmth that pours from underneath leather. He almost-- no, he doesn't want to part, and almost doesn't have the strength to.
Eventually, he will; for now, he indulges, just a minute longer. ]
Then we will send a messenger for him as soon as we arrive. [ He thumbs the sides of her face, fond and hopefully reassuring. ] We may then arrange for a meeting, perhaps on Imperial grounds with a small retinue, as a show of good faith. I am sure the Professor will not disagree.
[ What will come of this meeting, well, time will say. For now, he chooses to focus on the immediate next course of action, plan it together as they go, one step at a time. ]
I know I ask much from you as it is, but...
[ When he finally pulls away, it's so he can unclasp the cloak he wears, then drape it over Edelgard's shoulders, tucking her much smaller figure under layers of fabric and fur. It's mostly meant to keep her warm, though it should make it easier to stroll in with the Adrestian Emperor in tow if she's wearing Kingdom colors. ]
For now, have faith in us.
[ As the friends they were, the rulers they are, and whatever else they could be. ]
[His cape surprises her. Slowly, as she tries to process what is going on, Edelgard's hands lift to pull that large cloth-and-wolf-pelt piece around her. It's definitely warding away the cold of the mountain, which she appreciates.]
You... You don't think I should return back to my camp and we can set a meeting from there?
[She doesn't think about it, but Dimitri is probably right: taking her back with him is the best way to ensure his hope reaches fruition. If Edelgard were to go back Hubert would convince her out of it by morning. After all, even before the parley, she was set on a certain path. The only thing the meeting with Dimitri confirmed was... how hard she would have to work to convince him to deliver the final blow.
Perhaps Adrestian Wine was not the best idea for Edelgard's plans, but it certainly worked out for him.]
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no subject
If he was I never knew him as such. My first memories of Volkhard von Arundel that I can remember are of him smuggling me into the Kingdom. To me he was a cold man. Harsh, strict, and unyielding like steel. If I ever stepped out of line I was quick to know consequences for it.
[Physical consequences? No, not until she returned to the Empire. The consequences he gave her came in the form of emotional manipulation, verbal discontent, and the unfair power dynamic an older man holds over a helpless nine year old child. There was a reason she looked so afraid when he called to her the day they were to return to Adrestia.]
But back then I was a tool to him. And now he knows of me as little more than a finely crafted weapon to wield, and he is not wrong. You could say I was not born to rule, but instead made for it.
no subject
Consequences? Do not tell me that man dared to--
[ He's lunged forward before he realizes, his tone raised by a few octaves. That something he felt, that beastly rage he had tried so hard to bury... It was all still there, neatly blended with a side of protective instinct he didn't know he had-- at least, not over an enemy. But perhaps, this isn't Edelgard he sees; it's his childhood friend, the girl who used to mean the world to him.
(Even now, he still holds her dear; right now, he wants to just hold her.) ]
This is all so... preposterous. [ By the work of a miracle, he manages to hold himself back, but that primitive fire is still there, scorching his throat, choking up his words. ] If that man mistreated you so, then why did you side with him? Why do you continue to fight the Church? Why won't you--
[ Why won't you join me, he wants to say. But that, too, burns to a cinder. ]
no subject
[She shies away from his half-lunge not unlike a person leaning away from a dog attempting to jump on them.]
Would you rather live a life of ignorant bliss, or be tormented by the thought of a looming enemy you may never touch? Even if that enemy never meets you in battle, it might release itself on your grandchildren's grandchildren. It may not be a threat again for another hundred, or maybe even thousands of years, but it's there.
[At first she thought she'd grant him that one mercy. She'd force herself into a grotesque monster to encourage him to land the final blow. And with her dead, and Professor at his side, he could move on. Live a happy life without the knowledge of her past or the people who hurt her.
But her drunk self... it pulls out her longing. The tiny ache in her heart to be with her childhood friend. Her first love. The last person who knows her as "El" even if she insists she died the day she was brought back to the Empire.]
no subject
So he takes a step back and keeps his distance, letting her words sink in. Even as he tries to parse them, there's so much that's beyond his comprehension. Edelgard speaks of being their weapon, but whose? And who are the children of the Goddess? None of that makes sense to him...
Until something finally does. ]
I already live a life of torment. That will not change until the day I die.
[ Already, he is doomed to listening to the screams of the dead, clinging to his soul... To remembering the faces of those he killed and carrying their sorrows, to living in eternal regret over those he could not save. Most of all, he will have to forever live with the guilt of having abandoned his people in their greatest time of need, and allowed himself to buy into a lie for the sake of pursuing unwarranted revenge against someone who, he now realizes, might have been just as much of a victim as him. All because he was left in the dark. Because he didn't know.
He can never bring the dead back. But this much, he can still change. ]
I have faced away from the truth for far too long, but that is no more. If there is another enemy I must fight, then I will shoulder whatever burden comes with the knowledge. So, please, share it with me.
[ The knowledge and the burden. ]
no subject
[But why, Edelgard, did you agree to side with them? Why accept their toxic help? Well... whether or not it's something she wanted to do, it's something that was necessary. It turns her stomach but in all honesty she was never really "saved" from the dungeon. Merely let out because the experiments were concluded. Ended in "success". Her physical chains merely became invisible. A new kind of binding.]
no subject
But that... still makes little sense to him. Edelgard still associated with them, still had their help and offered them support in return. If she claims those are the true enemies of Fódlan, then... isn't she much like the same? ]
Knowing that, you still... chose to stay by their side. To aid them in their plans... or to have them aid you in yours.
[ He takes a step back, his frown deepening. No, that can't be right, can't be so black and white. ]
Tell me, Edelgard. Are you, too, an enemy of Fódlan?
[ He doesn't think she is; doesn't want to believe she is. ]
no subject
[What is a girl, malnourished and body strained from years of experience to do? Claw at her makers like a cornered rabbit and guarantee their unending and careful watch of her? Or does she play nice lying in wait like a snake in the underbrush ready to strike?]
Fodlan was already experiencing unrest before I started this war. The tragedy of Duscur, Lord Lonato's rebellion — those are only two of the many stirrings that led up to where we are now, Dimitri. Fodlan cannot face its final foe before shaking off the shackles of the Church.
no subject
There has to be something else. She's feeding him disconnected pieces, and he can't figure out the puzzle just yet. ]
Then tell me, Edelgard. How is the Church at fault for the ordeal Lord Arundel submitted you to? How did the Church turn you into a weapon, and why do you wish to eliminate them before the people directly responsible for what happened to you? And--
[ A pause, a sigh welling forth. Out of all his questions, this is the answer he dreads the most: ]
Must you truly continue to fight on your own?
no subject
Why should I not fight on my own? Who would even choose to fight by my side?
[Clearly not the professor, who she had desperately hoped would because they share the same Crest.]
no subject
But... she's only a person, still. Tired and overwhelmed as she is, and so human in her vulnerability. So much more like the girl he once knew, rather than the Emperor he waged war on.
Eventually, he settles for joining her, with just enough distance between them so his presence wouldn't be overbearing. He kneels on one leg, and like this, they are closer together, both in height and in goals. So close that they could maybe, finally reach for each other. And so, he does.
Weapons and spells may be dodged, but words and feelings cannot. All he has to offer is the gesture, and his aching heart poured over an open hand and a single name. ]
El.
[ He'll fight with her, if she allows; if she does not, then to the very end, he will fight for her. ]
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Her glass heart, no longer clear but instead opaqued by uncountable scratches, feels as if it might crack. Edelgard cannot stand to look his way. Absolutely not. If she sees his eye — blue and clear: the color of the sky, ocean, and freedom — staring at him through his hair — golden and mussed: the color of the sun, bales of hay, and representing happiness — she might just break. Even now she can feel her eyes water, but Edelgard falls back on old habits. She widens her eyes ever so slightly hoping the air will dry out her tears and save her from the embarrassment of being honest with her emotions.]
Did I not say... that girl was gone?
[Curses... her voice is wavering. Her faltering heart clear in her speech.]
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If she was... then she would have joined them a long time ago.
[ His father, Glenn, his friends... Their endless screams, ringing forevermore in his mind. All the people he could never have again by his side, yet shadowed his every move, the people who held on to him from the beyond, an inescapable grasp reaching for his soul. The people he could not save.
But, that girl? She's not a gravestone hanging on his neck. She breathes, and cries, and lives, still. She is right here, just an inch and a world away. ]
Am I to be condemned to that fate once more...?
[ He cracks in his speech and in the way his eye stings and in every shaking fiber of a body that can no longer fight the inevitability of the past, but refuses to accept a future that can still be changed. He breaks and caves and crumbles, in all but that hand, open and firm and safe, ready for the taking. Reaching for her, always. ]
El... Will you, too, become just another voice in my head?
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Quicker than a tipsy woman has any right to be, Edelgard grabs the wrist of the hand he offers and yanks him toward her. She aims to upset his balance he has and pull him onto her lap. She wishes to pull him close, look him in the eye, and force him to see her truth.]
Listen to me, Dimitri! I fight against the church because it has twisted normal men to side with monsters like my uncle in hopes of power. With the church's glorifying of crests why wouldn't an already corrupt noble agree to the torture and killing of children to see if one can falsify greatness by stealing it from others? Do you not wonder why none of my ten brothers or sisters ever attended the academy? Because they are dead! They are dead, and it is the love of crests and their power that killed them, and it nearly killed Lysithea as well.
I cannot live in a world that continues to allow that system to exist, Dimitri. They will not let me.
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His reasoning is right there, at the tip of his tongue, but suddenly forgotten as balance is swept away from him and he finds himself pressed against her, free arm as his only support between himself and her lap. But the surprise in his eye doesn't come from the abrupt shift; rather, it comes from realization. ]
... so all this time, you, too, have been chasing after ghosts.
[ Soft, and not a hint of judgement; how could he, when he had been much the same? The guilt of surviving, being moved by those who were gone and their lingering regrets, so blinded by grief over what could never be returned that he forgot about those that could yet be saved... He understands that, like no one else. He understands her better, too, like he's wanted for so long.
He only wishes it could be any other way, rather than through choked sobs and watery eyes that threaten to spill. ]
El, you listen to me. [ It's hard to keep his voice steady, and he may need a pause and a blink in between sentences, but he proceeds. ] I, too, have seen what crests can do to us. A dear friend who is seen as a bargaining chip rather than someone with her own aspirations, brother fighting brother out of resentment... and now, your siblings, as well.
[ Ingrid, who feels more tightly bound to her sense of duty than her desires, and Sylvain who has all but lost his self-worth as a person... Their troubles might pale in comparison to suffering of the imperial children, but they are there, and Dimitri isn't blind to them. ]
As a system, it is flawed; I know that. But I also know that it is not beyond change, and we can accomplish that as long as we work together, not against each other. There is no need or sense in ending lives so to save lives, and that includes yours.
[ He hoists himself up as best he can and sits in front of her, his arm freed from the strain. And like this, he can lift a hand to cradle the side of her head, never forcing, but asking with a look and no words. He's listening to her truth; will she listen to his? ]
You claim they will not let you live, but I will not let them have their way. Let us stand together, so that world will not stand still.
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If I am not dead the fighting will continue. If you do not pierce me with the blade of your spear Fodlan will suffer from others taking my place and burning through villages until the Church disbands. I know this because the people my uncle works with will make it so. They have to know me dead before they stop.
[Though it's possible that even if she does die the Agarthans shall simply bide their time for a few generations. Wait until all those who knew of their existence die out before attempting another upheaval.
What he offers her is too sweet. She's always had to cut her sweets with the sour of citrus or the tartness of fruit to manage enjoying them without guilt or the feeling of childishness. She cannot accept his sweetness, because she is undeserving of it. The blood that stains her, the horrors of her past, the ugliness scarred into her skin, will not allow it. His sweetness better off given to someone else. Someone who won't shy away from it like a shadow shies away from the sun.
But that final gesture does break her in some way. No amount of holding her eyes open wide in attempt to dry them could prevent the fall of tears now. As he cups her cheek he'll feel the wetness stain his gloved hand. Her skin burning hot as salty tears sting her eyes and tumble toward her chin.]
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The people who suffered through the ravages of war, those who lost their homes and their lives, they, too, do not wish to see any more bloodshed; he believes in them. ]
Your blood would just be more red painting the carnage, but what good would it do against those you claim to fight? Years, decades or even centuries down the line, long since it has dried out in the soil and your name has been forgotten, what or who could stand up to them?
[ His voice falters again, despair slipping through the cracks, but he must not-- cannot cave, not now, not when he's closer to finding understanding than he's ever been. There are still far too many ghosts, too many shadows that haunt him, and though he is no sun, right now, he can be a single ray of light. ]
I never said everything would be all right; that would be a childish thought. What I promise you is that whatever battles we forge henceforth will have meaning, and bring lasting peace long after the grandchildren of our grandchildren have passed on.
[ His gloved thumb wipes off hear tears, and lingers on her skin whether they continue to trickle down or cease to drop entirely-- from her eyes, if not from his. ]
But I cannot do this alone. The people of Fódlan need us. And I... I need you, El.
[ Together, they fight for a nation; alone, he fights for her. ]
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I need you.]
No, you do not. I am sure with the professor and your friends you will be just fine when I am gone. Let this end here.
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How could I ever be just fine with your blood in my hands?
[ He has enough stains as it is, names he didn't know, faces he'll always remember. But Edelgard would never be just one more, not before he knew what he does now, and certainly not after tonight. ]
The Professor, my friends... I would not have made it this far without them by my side, it is true. [ He continues to stroke her cheek, pausing only to try to find wisdom in his heart. ] They are all precious to me, and I will be grateful for their support until the day I die. But...
[ His other hand will join its twin, hold her face between his large palms. Thumb away tears that insist on falling. ]
But they are not you, El. No one could ever replace you.
[ Who she was to him, once. Who she still is to him now. ]
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[She already made it clear it did to her. Stating that his words kept her heart strong enough to survive. She's always cutting her own path where she can. Sure she could have just waged war on Rhea with no reason to it, but she spun the motive to liberate the people of Fodlan who felt the burden of their societal castes that revolved around crests.
Her end goal to carve the Agarthans out of Fodlan and spare the following generations seems impossible now, and she just wishes to die along with her dreams.]
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Have you... only just realized it?
[ The year they spent together, his last days of youthful innocence, his first and only love... It had been the time of his life, the kind of happiness someone can only hope to be so lucky to experience even once. If his words had given her strength to survive, then the hope to see her again had done the same for him, in many ways. Could she really not see it?
A rueful laugh joins his smile, a shake of his head tipping his tears down his cheeks. What a fool he has been. ]
I suppose that dagger truly must have been a poor choice to convey my feelings properly. I am not sure I know how to do much better now, but...
[ He leans in, his forehead on hers. ]
You do not have to shoulder this burden alone, El. Let the path you cut be ours to walk together.
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To be clutching to it like a lifeline, as she did, even though he's had so many friends support him... the professor support him... she doesn't understand it.]
I am not sure where to go from here. The path I cut ends where you win, Dimitri.
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It only ends if you cut it alone, El. We can press on ahead, together.
[ It's because he has his friends and the Professor by his side that he learned the real meaning of forgiveness; it would be terribly unjust, not to offer her the same acceptance. To let her die alone chasing a lofty goal, like he otherwise would have.
(He never wants her to feel alone again.) ]
As for where to go from here... we can make that decision together, as well. [ He dares to continue to stroke her wet cheeks with his thumb, to give her a small smile through his own dwindling tears. ] There is more you need to tell me, and even more we must discuss. And I suspect these desolate mountains do not make for a suitable place for such a lengthy conversation.
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[And yet her hand rises to rest over his as she nuzzles her cheek into his palm. The red in her face now unclear if it stems from the wine she got drunk on or the recent crying. Either way the chill of the mountains, despite the warm month, makes her old scars ache. Her body would be happy to retreat anywhere warmer. Even wrapped up in furs when she lived up north she had always complained of the cold. A southern flower through and through.]
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Eventually, he will; for now, he indulges, just a minute longer. ]
Then we will send a messenger for him as soon as we arrive. [ He thumbs the sides of her face, fond and hopefully reassuring. ] We may then arrange for a meeting, perhaps on Imperial grounds with a small retinue, as a show of good faith. I am sure the Professor will not disagree.
[ What will come of this meeting, well, time will say. For now, he chooses to focus on the immediate next course of action, plan it together as they go, one step at a time. ]
I know I ask much from you as it is, but...
[ When he finally pulls away, it's so he can unclasp the cloak he wears, then drape it over Edelgard's shoulders, tucking her much smaller figure under layers of fabric and fur. It's mostly meant to keep her warm, though it should make it easier to stroll in with the Adrestian Emperor in tow if she's wearing Kingdom colors. ]
For now, have faith in us.
[ As the friends they were, the rulers they are, and whatever else they could be. ]
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You... You don't think I should return back to my camp and we can set a meeting from there?
[She doesn't think about it, but Dimitri is probably right: taking her back with him is the best way to ensure his hope reaches fruition. If Edelgard were to go back Hubert would convince her out of it by morning. After all, even before the parley, she was set on a certain path. The only thing the meeting with Dimitri confirmed was... how hard she would have to work to convince him to deliver the final blow.
Perhaps Adrestian Wine was not the best idea for Edelgard's plans, but it certainly worked out for him.]
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