middaeg | . summer's play

[The scent of freshly watered foliage blankets Garreg Mach's campus, bright sun and blue sky completing the picturesque scene. A few students mill about, but most remain in their classrooms mingling after the day's lessons.

Dimitri stands in the archway of the Blue Lion's class, watching himself chat with his teacher. There's a smile on Byleth's face...

And on his, as well.

He wonders if he could imitate the expression now - with all he knows, and all he's lost.

With a sigh, he decides against trying.

Annette and Mercedes stand near the memory of him, waiting near Dedue to ask the teacher a question. Felix has already departed, and Sylvain has slid his chair up to a noble girl to 'help' with her homework. Ashe didn't come to class -

It must be shortly after Lonato's Rebellion, then.

Days difficult in their own right, but Dimitri yearns for them all the same.]

[ she doesn't want to see this, has no desire to learn anything more of dimitri's broken timeline destined for ruin. byleth eisner made the wrong decisions in many realities, and those misbegotten worlds will suffer for it, she thinks. she should turn and leave the classroom, but that would likely only... cause her to see more that she doesn't desire to know.

something odd crosses her face at the phantom of the man who appears so similar to herself, but so different all at once. that odd, easy dynamic she sees with dimitri is a surprise, but byleth supposes that it makes sense. she thinks of edelgard, in those simpler days. ]

I expected he would be taller. [ that comes up abruptly from dimitri's side. never mind that her counterpart has nearly a solid six inches of height on her. ]

... I feel as if I'm intruding.

[Had anything been in Dimitri's hands, he would have broken it.

Instead, his fingers coil silently and he steels his gaze on the classroom in front of him. The edges seem to blur, blackening the same way they do after a blow to the head.]

There's nothing here to intrude upon. [Just a simple afternoon school scene - faintly tinged with melancholy and regret. So subtle it seems non-existent when measured against what followed.]

From what I can tell, this is soon after Lord Lonato's rebellion. Which, in your memory, you suppressed with your class - correct?

[The only common participant in everything was the Professor.]

... Yes, we did. [ she hates these reminders of the petty, cruel dirty work seiros sent them on, those things meant to strike fear and obedience into the hearts of the next generation of fódlan's ruling class. ] That would... explain Ashe's absence. We saw no sign of him in class for days after it happened. Caspar and Linhardt borrowed notes to take to him... [ she glares forward, not at dimitri or at anything in the room, just... angry over the memory. something icy and bitter enters her tone. ] Seiros considered it a lesson well-learned, as I recall.

[ not rhea. never rhea. ]

[The implication that Ashe transferred classes strikes him - not out of a sense of betrayal but injustice. Lord Lonato's foolish revolt should have been left to the Kingdom class regardless of the Professor's station, and Ashe...

His departure should have spared him having to loose arrows at the man who raised him.

~~Had the archibishop specifically selected the class Ashe was in?~~

Banishing such suspicions - for the moment, at least - Dimitri returns his attention to the classroom. Dedue quietly shuffling behind the memory of him, accompanying him as he steps back from the Professor but decides to stay long enough to hear the girls' question.]

It was slaughter. [He turns to the General, arms crossing over his chest.] On both sides.

[Neither agreeing nor disagreeing with disdain of Rhea - everyone with blood on their hands is equally guilty.]

... It was. [ byleth lets out a breath. she can agree with that much. ] I don't mean to excuse or condemn Lonato. [ even if she does have a lot of sympathy for the man. ]

I just know that I can't justify what we did there. Seiros said that it "should prove useful in demonstrating to the students how foolish it would be to ever turn their blades on the church." [ the bitterness again returns, and she meets dimitri's eyes. her tone softens slightly when she speaks again. ] It's yet another thing I'll have to live with.

Edited 2020-04-20 19:24 (UTC)

[At least they're in agreement.

Dimitri too still thinks of what transpired that day - and how everyone had praised the murder of the common people for the greater good.

Strange that the General thinks that's unacceptable.

Though, there are no righteous in war. Lonato had willingly weighed the lives of his people against his cause and made his choice. It's upsetting, and had Dimitri been able to suppress just the man himself and let the militia go free, he would have.

Things are never quite so simple.] We all live with blood on our hands.

[He doesn't mean anything profound, nor does he intend to pass a judgement. Not now.]

Our time at school isn't only bloodshed. We've learned so much from our Professor...

I wish you had seen a happier time - a feast between all of the houses, perhaps.

[ she nods at that. it's a simple truth, and she doesn't read anything more into it. ]

Claude suggested a feast after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Was it the same for you? [ byleth treasures the memory of that feast and the celebration she had with her students afterwards. the things that edelgard had said, that all of them had said... reflexively, as it has before, her fingers go to her necklace. it's a comfort at most times, but now, standing in this shattered reflection of the history that ought to be, it's a lifeline. ]

[When Dimitri set foot on Gronder Field, the battle had felt trivial. He'd performed his part, and charged into the fray at the front of his classmates. There's little to recall about the fighting itself, little more than practice for real combat.

But the feast after is a memory he cherishes.]

Yes.

Students from all houses came together to feast. It was a wild affair. I'd always hoped my classmates could call me by name, rather than my title, but the event far outstripped any expectations I had.

We were just people, enjoying one another's company. [A small smile, and as Dimitri looks back to a happier memory, the one around them begins to shift. The walls grow higher, and color drains until most of their surroundings are grey, speckled with rich blues and gold.

Castle Fhirdiad, the prince's bedroom, in the early spring.

Dimitri's eyes narrow - he can't quite pinpoint the memory.]

[ she mirrors that small smile as dimitri goes on, remembering her own version of that night. as the scenery shifts, though...

byleth's brow furrows slightly. she's seen castle fhirdiad from the outside under both good and poor conditions, but she can't place its interiors. the grey light through the windows doesn't offer much in the way of clues. ]

Where are we now?

My bedroom.

[Dimitri responds easily, though his attention is fleeting. He takes several steps deeper into the chamber, peering out the window and then scanning the walls. Three Zoltan swords, arranged in forging order.

A shield said to have belonged to Loog.

But no bow and quiver. This would be after his major archery debacle, then... (A memory he's glad they are not visiting, it's at once too embarrassing and too light hearted for his current company.)]

I assume I'm about seven. [As the memory solidifies, the small form of a boy manifests bent over his desk. Working on writing his letters - penmanship never came easily to him. There are several broken quills shoved off to the side of the desk.

An attendant knocks at the door, accompanied by a woman dressed in royal finery.

Your Highness, your mother is here to see you.]

[ she recognizes the zoltan make of the blades. evidently dimitri's interest in weapons and forging started early... but then, given the way things had been in faerghus, that makes some sense.

she looks to the younger dimitri at first, struggling not to snap his quill, but she's snapped out of it by the servant's voice. and then... as the door opens, there stands dimitri's mother.

byleth notices her eyes first. the shape, the uncommon shade, one she's deeply familiar with... and the familiar features don't stop there. the resemblance to both edelgard and arundel is obvious. ]

... What...? [ her mind is already racing, trying to figure out what this could mean. she glances to the current dimitri, but keeps her attention firmly on what's before them. ]

[The woman standing in the doorway is austere - she carries herself in a way that clashes with what's customary in Faerghus. Royal, but distant, without much of the warmth that so many of Dimitri's teachers and retainers had possessed.

He loved her all the same.

The young boy leaps to his feet, sending his chair careening to the ground. Mother! Interrupted by the sound of his own folly, the young Dimitri sheepishly resets his chair and adjusts his quill on the desk before running to her.

Arms open, for a hug, which she returns listlessly.

Dimitri watches silently, acknowledging Byleth's question with a flicker of eye contact. He only replies once his childhood self has settled into chatter with his mother.]

I don't believe there's any way for you to have met her - she was one of Duscur's many victims.

[He's aware of the resemblance to Edelgard and Arundel, and he anticipates more questions - he answers vaguely, unsure how much he can bring himself to reveal.]

Edited 2020-06-11 21:00 (UTC)

[ byleth's eyes don't leave the woman in front of her, so familiar, so... ]

... Her eyes, Dimitri. [ the unspoken question there hangs heavily. ] I know those eyes. I...

. summer's play

. byleth

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