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Dimitri was used to nightmares. They had been plaguing him for four years, after all. Not a night went by where he didn’t relive the Tragedy, where he didn’t listen to the screams of the dying or the pleas of the damned. No, Dimitri had learned to live without restful sleep. What he had not yet adapted to, however, were the ghosts that followed him when he was awake. Those had been with him for two years, after his first battle, when the voices inside his head had cheered as he decapitated an enemy general. Their cheers died down after the battle was over, but they had never truly quieted, instead reminding Dimitri that he was a failure for not avenging the dead.
So it was no surprise when he woke up in a cold sweat one morning, heart racing from his latest nightmare. What had shaken him, however, were the contents of the dream. He could handle the ghosts screaming how he had let them down, how he needed to focus on nothing but revenge. But he couldn’t handle a new ghost.
Unclenching his white-knuckled fingers from the bedsheets, he threw them aside and jumped out of bed, his nightgown sticking to him. He braced himself on the desk chair, trying not to retch. Why was this nightmare so much worse than the rest? As he clutched the chair, a surge of energy ran through him as his Crest activated. The chair splintered beneath him. He cursed under his breath and shook out his fingers.
“Dimitri?” a voice called as there was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” Dimitri called back. His voice came out rough and cracked.
“Are you alright? I heard something break.” Dimitri recognized the voice as Sylvain, who shared a thin wall with Dimitri’s room. Dimitri hurried over and unlocked the door, peeking his head out to try to keep Sylvain from peering in and seeing the broken chair.
“Everything is fine, thank you,” Dimitri said hastily. Sylvain tried to crane his neck and peek in.
“So what was that noise I heard?” Sylvain asked.
“I-I’m not sure,” Dimitri lied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready.” Dimitri pushed the door closed before Sylvain could stick his foot in and force it open. After slamming the door shut, Dimitri pressed his back to the door, chest heaving. He listened for Sylvain’s footsteps to fade away before walking over to the dresser and pulling out his blue house leader uniform, throwing it on the bed. He took a deep breath and pulled off his nightgown. He dressed quickly, trying not to glance at himself in the full-length mirror that had been recently added to the room. Dimitri hadn’t asked for it; he just came back to his room one day and it was there.
As he walked down to the dining hall to get breakfast before class, Dimitri tried and failed to push the memory of his nightmare from his mind. He felt like he was going to start sweating through his clothes or drop his breakfast plate from how slippery his hands were, but he plastered on a fake smile and waved at his friends when he saw them sitting at their usual table. Sylvain stared at him for just a moment too long, before rejoining the conversation they were having.
“Felix, I just think that if you have such an aptitude for reason-based magic, you should at least give faith a try, you might be good at it!” Annette was exclaiming. Felix rolled his eyes as Dimitri sat down.
“I’m only studying reason for the mortal savant exam and that’s it. My sword is all I need,” Felix replied, pointing his fork at Annette before stuffing the sausage that was impaled on it onto his mouth.
“How about you Sylvain? Are you going to go for reason or faith for your knight certification?”
Sylvain shrugged. “Probably reason. The ladies love a man in black.” He put his hands behind his head. “What about you, Dimitri? Are you ready to be king?”
Dimitri blanched. “What—What did you say?” he stammered.
Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “I asked what class you’re planning to go for.”
Dimitri shook his head. He must have misheard. “Apologies. I’m not sure, possibly holy knight.” He knew that as a house leader he would be able to study to be a lord class, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. While he was at school, he wanted to be just another student for as long as he could. Sylvain nodded slowly, clearly trying to figure out what was going on in Dimitri’s head, but he dropped the subject for now.
“I’m surprised the boar wants to heal instead of hurt,” Felix quipped, stuffing another sausage in his mouth. Dimitri looked down at his own meal, embarrassed. He couldn’t blame Felix for how he acted towards him. Dimitri was a monster. If he had seen Felix do the things that he had done at the Western Rebellion, Dimitri wasn’t sure he would be acting differently to how Felix acted towards him now.
“You were right to kill them, you know,” Felix continued.
When Dimitri looked up, it wasn’t Felix sitting across from him. It was Glenn, as Dimitri had seen him during the Tragedy, with blood streaming down his face and matted in his raven hair. His amber eyes were dull and angry. Dimitri tightened his grip on his fork.
“G-Glenn?” he stammered, and Felix raised an eyebrow.
“What are you on about, boar?” he asked. The vision of Glenn dissipated.
“Nothing, I thought…never mind. I shall see you all in class,” Dimitri said, standing and exiting the dining hall, food untouched.
The monastery was bustling with activity as usual, students talking and training, knights guarding their stations, and monks discussing magical theory with each other. The noise overwhelmed Dimitri, and he clasped his hands over his ears as he dashed to the Blue Lions classroom, hoping no one would stop him or comment on his strange behavior. Dimitri expected to find the classroom empty, or occupied by Byleth at the most. Instead, a tall, blond man stood in Byleth’s place at the front of the room, rapping a ruler against his hand.
“My own son, scared of a little noise?” Lambert mocked. He wasn’t as bloodied as Glenn had been, but an arrow stuck out of his neck at an odd angle. Lambert shook his head, clearly disappointed. “What a shame you turned out to be so weak.” Dimitri gulped and started to back out of the room when his body slammed into something. He whipped around to see Sylvain standing behind him.
“Buddy, you ok?” Sylvain asked, placing a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. Over Sylvain’s shoulder, Dimitri saw Glenn glowering at him from the courtyard. He blinked hard and the vision shifted back to Felix.
“I’m fine,” Dimitri lied, looking from Felix back at Sylvain.
“You know, if you need to talk—” Sylvain began but Dimitri cut him off.
“I just had a poor night’s sleep. I shall be back to normal in the morning.” Sylvain frowned, not convinced, but he knew pushing Dimitri wouldn’t get any more information out of him. Dimitri turned back into the classroom and quickly took his normal spot at the front of the room, pulling out his quill and parchment. He doodled at the top of the page as other students and Byleth trickled in, little arrows and hearts and stars. Even as the lecture began, he kept doodling between taking notes, finding solace in the repetitive motions.
“Dimitri.” Dimitri snapped his head up to find Byleth in front of him. They looked down disapprovingly at Dimitri’s doodles. “Pay attention.”
“I am,” he said softly.
“What was I just talking about?” they asked.
“Effectiveness of different weapons against swords,” he replied. Byleth narrowed their eyes but nodded and continued with the lesson.
As the lesson wrapped up, Dimitri shuffled with the rest of the class out towards the dining hall for lunch. With his eyes glued to the floor, he didn’t notice the person he bumped into coming out of the Black Eagles classroom. When he looked up, he saw a woman with Edelgard’s face, but with brunette hair and a shining smile.
“My sweet Dimitri,” she crooned, reaching a hand out towards him. “You will make such a handsome king.” Dimitri’s eyes widened and he bolted for the dining hall, leaving Edelgard standing there, confused.
The rest of the day passed with little incident, Dimitri doodling through lectures to keep the ghosts at bay. He saw the ghosts several more times, but they kept silent, watching him, reminding him that they were always there. Lambert, Patricia, and Glenn never truly left his side. In a twisted way, it was almost comforting that they weren’t really gone. But along with them, he kept seeing another face. It stood behind Sylvain in the dining hall, behind Byleth in class, in the distance in the courtyard, always staring at him with cold, unblinking eyes. He would’ve dismissed him as a new knight that he hadn’t seen, but Dimitri had seen him before. He’d been in his dream last night.
By the time that Dimitri got back to his dorm room, he was exhausted, and fell into bed with his uniform on.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing in front of a crowd of thousands of people, all cheering his name. Glenn stood at his right side and Patricia, older and more frail than he remembered, at his left. The noise the crowd made was cacophonous and Dimitri wanted to clasp his hands back over his ears and run. But he couldn’t move, feet frozen in place and hands laced to his sides.
“King Dimitri,” Glenn said softly. “They’re waiting for you.” King Dimitri. Dimitri felt bile rising in his throat. He looked down at Glenn and caught a glimpse of himself in Glenn’s ceremonial sword. He felt his heart begin to race as he studied the visage in the blade.
“This isn’t right,” Dimitri whispered, putting a hand to his face. He was older now, by several years. A blond beard had grown in, obscuring most of his face. His jawline was set and chiseled, and his short blond hair was shaved on the sides. It was the face of the other man who had been following him throughout the monastery throughout the day.
“Your Majesty? Is everything alright?” Glenn asked, and Dimitri shook his head, slowly backing away from the crowd, his feet feeling like they were covered in stones. He looked down at his hands, once lithe and smooth, now grizzled and covered in scars. He looked up again at the crowd and then broke out into a sprint off of the platform and back into the castle, nearly tripping over himself. He glanced backwards for a moment and when he looked forward again, a man was towering over him. Looking down at himself, Dimitri realized he was suddenly the height of a child again. The man towering over him had the same scruffy beard that Dimitri had just seen in the sword, the same chiseled hands, the same short hair.
“Where are you running off to, Dima?” the tall man asked, a mocking lilt to his voice.
“L-let me past,” the smaller Dimitri begged, his voice coming out high and prepubescent.
King Dimitri laughed, his voice a booming sound that echoed through the stone hallway. “It is your destiny, child,” King Dimitri reached a large hand out to Dimitri. “You are meant to be king.”
Dimitri ducked to avoid the hand, which clenched into a fist. “I don’t want to!” he protested, stamping his foot. King Dimitri crossed his arms. “I don’t want to be king!”
“Insolent child. You have no choice in the matter. This is who you were born to be,” King Dimitri said.
Dimitri tried to dart past King Dimitri, but he grabbed him by the back of his tunic, lifting him up as Dimitri swung his fists at the air. King Dimitri held Dimitri in front of his face, studying him.
“I don’t want to be king, I want to be—” Before Dimitri could finish his sentence, a sharp pain shot across his cheek. He felt blood dripping into his mouth.
King Dimitri shook out his free hand. “You impudent, disobedient little whelp. You will be king. You will rule this land with an iron fist, as that is all you are good for. That is who you were meant to be,” King Dimitri spat. “You could never be anything other than a monstrous, violent boar.” Specks of spittle flew into Dimitri’s face as tears streamed down his face.
“No, no, I am not a boar, I’m not…”
Dimitri shot up in bed, once again soaked in sweat. The room was dark this time, moonlight filtering in through the window. Dimitri clambered out of bed and scrambled to light the candle that sat on his desk. Dim light illuminated the room, and Dimitri walked over to the mirror, shaking. The figure that stared back at him looked gaunt in the candlelight, the angles of his jaw made more pronounced by the shadows it cast. His blond hair was a tousled mess, and his uniform was sweaty and crumpled. His hands trembled at his sides.
Over his shoulder was King Dimitri, with his grizzled physique and cold stare from Dimitri’s same brilliant blue eyes. He put a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder and leaned in, smiling wickedly. “You will make a wonderful king, wicked boar,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. A chill ran down Dimitri’s spine.
“I won’t,” he whispered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
“You will. You will ascend the throne and become the king you were always meant to be,” King Dimitri growled.
Dimitri balled his hands into fists. “I do not want this,” he said, voice cracking. The resemblance between him and the King was unsettling, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. This was him, after all. This was who he was meant to become.
But Dimitri couldn’t accept it. This wasn’t the future he wanted for himself.
“Why? Because you’re scared you’ll fail?” King Dimitri mocked as Dimitri's fists trembled. King Dimitri leaned down and whispered in Dimitri’s ear. “Or because you know you are not enough of a man to be king?”
Dimitri roared. He didn’t consciously decide to swing, but the next thing he heard was the sound of glass shattering and the mirror exploded into hundreds of tiny, shiny shards all over the floor. Dimitri looked down and saw dozens of himself staring up at him, all pale and broken and crying. He sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands.
The door burst open. In his exhaustion, Dimitri had forgotten to lock the door. He didn’t bother looking up until he felt someone tug on his arm. Sylvain and Felix were standing above him, with Sylvain’s hand on his bicep. Sylvain squatted down and looked Dimitri in the eye.
“Dimitri,” he said, panic creeping into his voice. “What happened?” Sylvain reached over and rubbed Dimitri’s knuckles, blood smearing on his thumb.
“Just leave me,” Dimitri hiccupped. “Please.”
Felix rolled his eyes and huffed. “We’re not leaving you, boar,” he said. He pushed the glass aside with his feet and squatted down on Dimitri’s other side. “Help him up.” Sylvain nodded, and each man took one of Dimitri’s arms over their shoulders. Pieces of glass were embedded in his knees and shins, cuts bleeding through his uniform. Dimitri heard Felix curse under his breath for not taking Annette’s advice about faith magic.
“We should get you to the infirmary,” Sylvain said, surveying the damage. Dimitri shook his head vigorously.
“No, please,” he pleaded. Sylvain and Felix frowned at each other.
“Dimitri, there is glass in you , neither of us know any faith magic. Let us get you to the infirmary,” Felix said. “Please.”
Dimitri let out a shaky sigh. “Alright,” he said, resigned, and he limped with the help of his companions to the infirmary.
At this time of night, there were usually only one or two priests working the infirmary, watching over any existing patients and staying prepared for any emergencies. Tonight, Manuela was on duty, asleep in a chair by the entrance to the empty infirmary.
“Manuela,” Felix called. No response. He called her name again, with no luck. He rolled his eyes and shook her with the hand that wasn’t supporting Dimitri. She awoke with a start.
“What in the world—oh. Hello gentlemen,” she said. Dimitri flinched. “How may I help you this evening?” Felix gestured to the glass in Dimitri’s legs. Manuela furrowed her brow. “How did this happen?” Dimitri didn’t respond.
“He won’t tell us,” Sylvain said. “We found him like this in his room.”
Manuela frowned. “I really should know what happened here,” she said. “But I’ll treat you nonetheless.” The boys limped Dimitri over to a bed, and Manuela grabbed a pair of tweezers and joined them. “This will likely hurt, I apologize.” She slowly pulled out the first shard of glass from Dimitri’s knee and Dimitri hissed in pain. She quickly wiped it down with alcohol and waved a glowing hand over it, mending the wound. There was no mending Dimitri’s pants, however. She continued to work silently while Sylvain and Felix sat on the next bed over, watching nervously. By the time she was done, 12 bloody glass pieces sat on the table next to her and Dimitri was fighting back more tears.
“There, finished,” she said, putting down the tweezers next to the broken glass. “I’ll go dispose of this. You three seem like you need to talk.” She turned to Sylvain. “Maybe you can get something out of him that I can’t.” As Manuela walked away, Felix got up and walked to the bed on the other side of Dimitri, effectively surrounding him.
“Dimitri, what the hell is going on?” he asked, leaning forward, putting his hands on his knees.
Dimitri shook his head. “I cannot…” His voice trailed off, the words caught in his throat. He stared up at the ceiling rather than looking at either of the men sitting at his side.
“We’re your oldest friends, you can tell us anything,” Sylvain pressed. He reached over and grabbed Dimitri’s forearm, making him flinch.
Dimitri looked at Sylvain, and then at Felix, who nodded. “You would listen to the worries of a boar?” he asked dryly.
Felix’s cheeks flushed red and took a moment before responding. “Yeah. We would. Hell, this side of you is more human than animal. Wouldn’t be bad to see more of it.”
Dimitri took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I will try, but I genuinely don’t know if I can disclose this,” he said. “I do not think I have the words to do so.”
“It’s ok,” Sylvain softly. “Take as long as you need.”
Dimitri opened his eyes but still looked downcast, eyes transfixed on a spot on his uniform. He reached up and rubbed his Adam’s apple, feeling it vibrate as he spoke, his voice coming out in a low tone that felt almost unnatural to him. “I have…concerns about becoming king,” he began slowly.
“Well, that makes sense, it’s a big responsibility,” Sylvain replied, nodding. “I’m nervous about becoming Margrave and that’s of just one territory.”
Dimitri shook his head, not looking up at Sylvain. His hand gripped the bedsheets, and he felt his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “It is not a matter of responsibility. Well, maybe that isn’t entirely untrue as well,” Dimitri admitted. “But it is not my main concern.” He took a deep breath. “I suppose I should start from the beginning. When the Tragedy of Duscur occurred, I lost many people dear to me, but they never truly left me. I see them every day and night. At first, it began as just nightmares. Then I began seeing them during the day too. I would start to mistake other people for them, or see them off in the distance.”
Felix pursed his lips. Dimitri knew it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t help his resemblance to Glenn, but he had always been a reminder of his failure, of what he has lost. Of all the ghosts he had to face, Felix meant that Glenn's was the most present.
“After my first battle, the faces gained voices. They cheered when I removed the head of a Duscurian general, and it felt…good. It felt like I was able to help them, to avenge them,” Dimitri continued. “But the voices didn’t cease after the battle. They began to mock me, to tell me I was nothing more than a vessel for their revenge, that I was weak for failing to avenge them fully.” Dimitri looked up at Sylvain, who looked crestfallen.
“You see Glenn? And he mocks you?” Felix asked, incredulous.
Dimitri turned to him and nodded. “Him, Lady Patricia, my father, everyone. Their ghosts haunt me.”
Felix shook his head. “They’re not really ghosts, Dimitri. You know that, right? This…it sounds like it’s all in your head.”
Dimitri sighed and looked back down. “Yes, I am aware that it is unlikely that they are their real ghosts. But it does not make them any less real to me,” Dimitri replied. “Or make their words any less impactful. They are right. Despite being nothing more than a brutish boar, good for fighting and little else, I have been unable to avenge them. I have been unable to kill those truly responsible for their deaths.”
“Dimitri, that isn’t your burden to bear,” Sylvain said.
“If not mine, then whose?” Dimitri asked. He blinked and a tear slid down his cheek. “The ghosts ask why I didn’t die with them at Duscur. They say if I cannot avenge them, then I should join them. And sometimes I believe they’re correct.” Sylvain’s grip tightened on Dimitri’s arm.
“You can’t truly believe that, bo— Dimitri,” Felix said, the annoyance in his voice masking his concern.
“I do. You’re right when you call me a boar, Felix.”
Felix looked away, another guilty pang running through his chest. He wouldn’t have called him a boar so much if he knew the boar still had… feelings.
“I am good for nothing. At least boars can be used for meat.” Dimitri let out a dry laugh.
“Dimitri, that isn’t true. Fuck avenging them, you’re our friend. Doesn’t that matter too? We care about you, right Felix?” Sylvain asked, his voice pressured, running a hand through his hair
Felix nodded without hesitation. Was it true? Had he really never stopped caring about him? After what Felix had seen at the Western Rebellion, how could he possibly still care, now that he saw past the façade Dimitri wore?
“I appreciate your kind words, Sylvain. It does matter, yes. I am determined not to succumb to the will of my ghosts, not before I can avenge them,” Dimitri replied.
“And not after, either!” Sylvain exclaimed, voice tightening. “Dimitri, why wouldn’t you tell us you were dealing with this?”
Dimitri smiled weakly. “As you said, it wasn’t your burden to bear.”
Sylvain hung his head and sighed. “That’s entirely different and you know it,” he said. He still wouldn’t let go of Dimitri’s arm, gripping hard enough to bruise, like he was afraid Dimitri would disappear.
“I don’t get it,” Felix said, and Dimitri looked over at him. “If you’ve been dealing with these…ghosts for years, what happened that pushed you over the edge? Why are you getting worse? Were you just dealing with it for too long?”
“Perhaps that was part of it,” Dimitri said. “But the truth is, last night, a new ghost entered my nightmares, and he followed me around the monastery today.”
Felix furrowed his brow. “A new ghost? Yesterday?” he asked. “No one died recently.”
Dimitri shook his head. “The ghost is not one of the past, but one of the future,” he explained. “The ghost is…me. Or rather, who I am supposed to become.” Dimitri’s voice began to shake as he spoke, despite being kept level as he had spoken about his desire to join the ghosts that haunted him. “I dreamt the last two nights that I was king already, expected to address my people. When I tried to run, I returned to being a child and was stopped by myself as king. He mocked me, told me it was my duty to become king, he wouldn’t let me go…”
Dimitri sighed before continuing. “Then he joined my ghosts today. He had no words for me, he just watched, but it was like he was speaking through my other ghosts and through my friends, like everyone was just focused on me being king. Like no one could see me as anything else. It was as if no one could see me for me today. Just who I could be. A vessel for violence at worst, a king at best.”
“What’s so wrong with seeing yourself as king? I mean, you are going to be king soon,” Felix said.
“Because I do not think I can be king,” Dimitri said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It terrifies me.”
“Well you won’t be doing it alone. You’ll have a whole team of advisors by your side, including us.” Sylvain gave Dimitri’s arm an encouraging squeeze.
Dimitri shook his head, another tear sliding down his cheek. “I appreciate it, but my concern is not with it being difficult to rule, it is specifically of being a king, ” Dimitri said. “Of being the example everyone looks to for what it means to be a man.”
Sylvain cocked his head in confusion. “You’re worried you’ll be a bad male role model?” he asked. “Dimitri, I think you’re a great man—”
“But I do not want to be a man!” Dimitri exclaimed, then quickly clasped a hand over his mouth. Felix and Sylvain looked at each other, then back at Dimitri, whose tears were flowing freely now.
“What do you mean you ‘don’t want to be a man,’ Dimitri?” Felix asked, leaning in.
Dimitri slowly removed the hand from his mouth and looked at Felix, taking a deep breath, trying to keep down sobs. Why had he said that? He could’ve just kept his friends thinking that he was afraid of responsibility. Now they would think he was a freak. He could never be anything other than a man, a brutish, boorish man, so why would he ever even entertain the possibility that he could be anything else? “I mean, I do not want to be a man,” Dimitri repeated, sniffling. “I—I do not know what is wrong with me, but for years now, I have felt…wrong. Like Sothis put me in a body that does not belong to me. When I look in the mirror, I see not myself, but an illusion of someone else. You’re right when you say I wear a façade, Felix, but it is not to hide that I am a boar. To be a prince, it feels like I am playing make-believe like when we were children.”
“When did this start?” Felix asked.
“Around the time when my body started changing,” Dimitri said. He didn’t have enough energy left in him to be ashamed of talking about a topic like puberty. “When I was a child, you two know, I was…pretty. I got mistaken for a girl and I never minded it. But once I started to grow and change, I knew that the expectations for me were different. The first time I cut my own hair short, I cried the whole time.”
“Men can have long hair,” Felix said, pointing to his own ponytail.
Dimitri nodded. “But I didn’t feel like I could. I felt like I had to be the perfect man, like any crack in my armor would allow people to see how I really felt.
“And how do you really feel?” Sylvain asked. Dimitri lowered his chin to his chest and muttered something unintelligible. “Sorry, what was that?” But instead of responding, Dimitri just broke down in sobs. Sylvain hurriedly stood and rushed to his side, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Dimitri, it’s okay.”
“It isn’t okay,” Dimitri hiccupped, pulling back from Sylvain, who knelt on the floor next to him instead. “No normal man feels this way! No normal man wants this!” Felix and Sylvain let Dimitri have a few more hiccupping sobs, the noise echoing throughout the infirmary, before he started breathing heavily to try to calm himself. “I—I apologize. That was unbecoming of me.”
“Dimitri,” Felix said, his voice softer than Dimitri had ever heard it. “What do you mean by that?”
“I can’t—”
Felix cut him off. “Enough. Enough of these games, Dimitri. You’re worrying us, and I know you can’t do anything for yourself, but at least do this for us,” Felix said, as close as he was willing to get to pleading. He grabbed Dimitri’s arm. “What do you want?”
Dimitri swallowed down his tears and looked between his friends, knowing that what he was about to say would likely make them hate him forever. How could they not? This concept was so strange, so foreign, even to Dimitri, who had been living with it for years. Felix and Sylvain weren’t prejudiced people, but this went beyond prejudice.
“I want to be pretty and soft, not strong and violent,” Dimitri said softly. “I do not want to be king, I want to be queen.” Even as Dimitri said it, there was a difference in how the two words felt on his tongue, “king” thick like molasses and “queen” light like one of Mercedes’s meringue cookies.
“Men can be pretty and soft. Just look at Felix,” Sylvain said, earning him a glare from Felix..
Dimitri shook his head. “It is about more than just being pretty and soft. At my core, being a man feels incorrect. When I get called a man, it’s like someone is calling me the wrong name, but worse. It makes me feel disgusted. Not that being a man is disgusting, it just does not feel like who I am, who I should be,” Dimitri tried to explain. “And when I look in the mirror, when I see all the masculine features that I get praised for…” Dimitri trailed off, running his fingers over his Adam’s apple again. “It just makes me feel ashamed. Like I want to hide.”
“So you don’t want people to see a man when they look at you?” Sylvain asked. Dimitri nodded slowly. “So you want…”
“I want to be a woman,” Dimitri replied, voice cracking. Felix’s eyes widened and he moved back ever so slightly, but enough for Dimitri to notice and feel sick over.
It had seemed like that was the direction Dimitri was headed, but Felix was still taken aback to hear him say the words. Dimitri couldn’t blame him. His oldest friend, his violent friend who he had watched laugh as he decapitated a general, wanted nothing more than to be a dainty woman? Felix seemed to notice Dimitri’s queasiness but stayed quiet.
The silence hung thickly in the air and Dimitri wanted to either run out of the infirmary or recant his confession and claim it was all a strange joke. He knew neither would go over well.
Sylvain was the one to finally break the silence. “Dimitri, I may not understand, but I’ll support you no matter what,” he said, reaching out to take Dimitri’s hand in his.
Dimitri let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, wiping the tears from eyes. “Thank you,” he said, voice hoarse. Sylvain looked to Felix, but Dimitri couldn’t bear to see whatever look Felix had in his eyes. His silence told Dimitri everything he needed to know. He was disgusted, horrified, he’d never want to talk to a freak like Dimitri again. This would be the nail in the coffin even more than the Western Rebellion had. Suddenly, still looking at Sylvain, Dimitri felt warmth and pressure wrap around him. He looked over and saw that Felix was hugging him. Felix was actually hugging him.
Felix had been a very affectionate child, especially to Dimitri, but that had all gone away after Glenn’s death. Dimitri was so caught up with his ghosts that he didn’t have the ability to help Felix process, and Rodrigue, while loving, was far from helpful in that regard. So Felix had gone from a soft, gentle cry-baby to a jaded, steeled stoic, closing himself off from the world and from anyone who could hurt him by getting close to him and then leaving. Felix hadn’t hugged Dimitri in four years. Dimitri missed it terribly, and his sobs started anew. Sylvain reached over and rubbed small circles into Dimitri’s back while he sobbed, body shaking.
After a few moments, Dimitri caught his breath and looked up at Felix. Felix wore his usual neutral expression but there were tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He scoffed and let go of Dimitri to wipe the tears away. “Something just got in my eye, ok?” Dimitri and Sylvain both looked accusingly at him, Dimitri managing a smile. “Ok fine. Maybe it was touching that you decided to tell us something so personal. Don’t let it go to your head.” Dimitri laughed and reached out with one arm for Felix, who wrapped his arms back around Dimitri and rested his head on top of Dimitri’s. With his other arm, he pulled Sylvain into the embrace, who got off his knees and sat on the edge of Dimitri’s bed. Felix lifted his chin up and placed a chaste kiss on top of Dimitri’s head, which Sylvain noticed.
“Aww,” Sylvain said, and Felix reached over and smacked him on the back of the head. “Hey! I thought it was cute, that’s a good thing!” Sylvain looked from Felix to Dimitri before quickly planting a kiss on Dimitri’s cheek. Dimitri blushed brightly.
“You two are very kind,” he said. “I—I love you both.”
“Love you too, Dima,” Sylvain said, invoking a childhood nickname Dimitri hadn’t heard in years. Felix didn’t say anything until Sylvain motioned for him to do so.
“Fine. I love you too,” he said, rolling his eyes. “As if that wasn’t obvious.”
“Can we continue this conversation in my bedroom? I fear Manuela may return soon,” Dimitri asked.
“Yeah, of course,” Sylvain said, and the three broke free from their tangled embrace. They walked to the door, but instead of it swinging freely open when they pushed it, it hit something. Sylvain tried the door again and it opened, revealing Manuela on the other side, rubbing her cheek.
“Manuela?! Were you eavesdropping?” Dimitri asked, horrified.
She huffed. “It isn’t technically eavesdropping if you can’t hear anything,” she said, then noticed the boys’ horrified expressions. “I just wanted to stay nearby in case you needed anything! I swear I didn’t hear a word.” She smiled and slipped back into the infirmary, slamming the door.
Dimitri shook his head, clearly still worried.
Sylvain slipped his warm hand into Dimitri’s. “I’m sure she didn’t hear, and if she did, she’s not going to tell anyone,” he said. Manuela was the biggest gossip at the academy, but she wasn’t malicious. She would never reveal something like that. Probably.
Dimitri gave Sylvain’s hand a squeeze and kept holding it as they walked back to the dormitories. He wished he could hold Felix’s hand but the hallway and stairwell were too thin to hold three people side-by-side. As soon as they were outside, though, Dimitri eagerly grabbed Felix’s hand, Felix’s fingers curling around Dimitri’s. He felt almost giddy, all his worries about how his friends would react having disappeared. They didn’t talk on the walk back to the dormitory, enjoying the cool night air on their skin.
When they got back to the dormitory, Dimitri sat on his bed with his back against the wall and the other two on either side. He stared at the shards of glass, knowing he would have to deal with them sooner or later. He chose later.
“So, where do we go from here?” Sylvain asked, resting his head on Dimitri’s shoulder. “How can we help you feel better?” Dimitri thought for a moment. This wasn’t something that he could tell anyone outside of his room, but with these two, he felt like he could be safe.
“I liked when you called me Dima,” he said.
Felix nodded. “Sure, Dima.”
Dima smiled. “And, when you talk about me, just to each other…can you call me ‘she?’” he asked, embarrassed at the request, face flushed and refusing to make eye contact.
Sylvain looked at Felix. “Anything to make her happy, right Felix?”
Felix nodded. “Yeah, she’s our friend,” he replied. Dima buried her hands in her face, unsure if she was going to cry or laugh or spontaneously combust. It felt right in a way that “he” never had. It felt like coming home.
“What about clothes and stuff? We could try getting you one of the girls’ uniforms,” Sylvain said.
Dima thought for a moment. “That sounds nice, though I doubt I will be ready to wear it in public for a long time, if ever,” she replied.
“That’s ok, as long as it makes you happy.” Sylvain ruffled her hair and she smiled. “You could start growing out your hair, too. That wouldn’t raise any suspicion.”
Dima sniffled and nodded. “I suppose I could,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. She’d loved having long hair when she was little. She thought about how nice it would be able to be to braid it one day.
“Is there anything else we can do for you tonight?” Felix asked.
Dima looked at him with puppy-dog eyes. “Will you two stay here tonight?” she asked.
“I don’t think we’ll all fit well enough to get a good night’s rest,” Felix replied. He was right, the bed was big enough for one person, maybe two if they laid on their sides, but to fit all three, they’d have to sleep sitting up. “Why don’t you two stay here tonight? I have some stuff I want to take care of anyway.” Felix gave Dima another quick kiss, this time on her cheek, before heading out of the room.
Sylvain laid down, stretching his legs across Dima’s lap. “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, baby,” he said, jokingly seductive.
Dima laid down next to him, nose to nose, smiling. “I suppose so,” she said and leaned in to kiss Sylvain, who eagerly reciprocated. It was proper and chaste, even as Sylvain slipped an arm over her waist and pulled her closer. When they broke apart, Dima nestled her head under Sylvain’s chin. “I owe Felix one of those now.”
Sylvain laughed. “What, that can’t be special for me?” he asked.
Dima shook her head. “I love you both equally. You cannot reasonably ask me to choose,” she replied.
“That’s fair,” Sylvain said. “And we both love you. You don’t have to choose.” Dima wondered to herself how she got so lucky before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.
For the second time that night, she once again dreamt that she was preparing to give a court address. Her chest tightened when she saw the throngs of people waiting to hear her voice. Glenn and Patricia still stood at her sides. Once again, she backed away and ran back into the castle before she could give her address, and once again, she slammed into someone, reduced to a childlike form. Except this time, it wasn’t a tall, hulking man who stopped her, but a lithe young woman who squatted down to make eye contact with her.
“Sweet Dima,” she said softly. “Why are you running?” Her blue eyes sparkled like the pools that Dima used to visit with Felix and Sylvain on vacations. Her blonde hair flowed around her shoulders, except for the part that was up in two braids of a crown around her head. She had a sharp jawline set under smooth, porcelain skin, but it only enhanced her beauty. She reached out, her royal blue dress crinkling softly with the motion, and touched Dima’s cheek.
“I don’t want to be king,” she said, stomping her feet. The young woman chuckled, a low, melodic sound.
“Who said you have to be king, dear one? That would be quite silly,” the woman said. She placed her hands on Dima’s shoulders and turned her around, facing back the way she came. “Now, go greet your people, Your Majesty,” she whispered in her ear, and sent Dima walking the way she came.
She grew with every step she took, the ceiling approaching until she was back to her full height. Instead of Glenn and Patricia waiting for her at the entrance to the balcony that she had fled from, looking worried, stood Sylvain and Felix.
“Dima, what happened?” Sylvain asked, rushing to meet her. She shook her head and walked past him towards Felix.
“Felix, may I see your blade?” she asked. Felix cocked his head, confused, but complied nonetheless. Dima took the pommel in hand and raised the blade to be eye-level. Staring back at her was the face of the beautiful woman she had just seen in the hallway, with her long, blonde hair and her beautiful blue eyes. Tears welled up in Dima’s eyes.
“Your Majesty? Is everything alright?” Felix asked, maintaining the air of formality that was expected for this kind of address. Dima nodded and handed him his blade back.
“I’m ready to address my people as their queen.”
Dima woke fully rested for the first time in four years, stretching and yawning as she did so. She hadn’t had a sleep without nightmares since Duscur, and hadn’t had a good dream in Sothis knows how long. She quickly noticed, however, that her bed was empty, Sylvain no longer wrapped in her arms. She sat up and saw him on his knees, carefully piling up the pieces of her broken mirror on the floor. Sylvain turned and smiled at her.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he said.
“Sylvain, you don’t have to do that,” Dima said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
He shrugged. “It’s alright, it’s almost done anyway.” He was right; what had been a mess of glass all over the floor was now almost all neatly piled underneath the mirror frame.
Dima rubbed her eyes and noticed how bright it was. “What time is it?”
“Around eleven,” he replied.
Dima looked suddenly panicked.
“Relax, we don’t have class today.”
Right. Weekends. Dima sighed.
“Did last night really happen or was it all an elaborate dream?” she asked, smiling weakly.
Sylvain stood, a large, dull piece in his hand, and sat next to Dima. “It was real,” he said, and gently kissed her. Then he angled the mirror so they could see themselves. “We look good together.”
Dima couldn’t deny that they did. Even if looking at herself wasn’t her favorite thing in the world, she looked good next to Sylvain, his stark red hair somehow perfect despite his wrinkled pajamas. She studied herself, her jawline, the curves of her cupid’s bow, the nick where she had cut herself shaving. But most of all, she saw her blue eyes, the same ones the woman in her dreams had had last night, and it made her smile.
As she studied herself, there was a knock at the door. Sylvain took the glass shard, added it to the pile, and opened the door. Standing there was Felix, arms full of books and fabric. He set it all down on Dima’s desk with a huff.
“What’s all this?” Dima asked.
“Just some books and stuff,” Felix said, clearly trying to downplay what he had done.
Sylvain rolled his eyes. “He came in this morning, told me he spent all night in the library, looking up everything he could to try to find information on people like you. Looks like he might have been successful,” he said. Dima smiled at Felix.
“That’s very kind of you, Felix,” Dima said.
“Don’t thank me yet, these books just seemed promising, I don’t know yet if they’ll actually have anything useful,” Felix said, hands on his hips.
Dima nodded. “And the fabric?”
Felix smiled and moved the books to the side, picking up the pile of fabric. As he did, it continued to cascade, revealing a simple pastel cyan off-the-shoulder slip dress. Dima gasped.
“I borrowed it from Catherine. It’s the only one she owns so don’t rip it or anything. It might be a little short but it should fit you,” Felix said.
Dima looked between the dress and Felix before leaping up and kissing him, wrapping her arms around his waist and trapping the dress between them. After a moment of surprise, Felix kissed back.
“Thank you, dear,” Dima said, pressing her forehead to Felix’s and smiling.
Felix blushed and looked away. “It was nothing,” he said, stepping back and crossing his arms, but he couldn’t suppress his smile. “Why don’t you try it on and I’ll start looking through these books?” Dima nodded and took the dress, glancing at the books on the desk. They were all tame and scientifically-titled, nothing Seteth wouldn’t approve of, but there had to be a reason Felix thought they would be useful.
Dima took the dress in her hands, the silky fabric smooth to the touch. She put it down on the bed and pulled off her cape, then her shirt. She had the instinct to cover her chest with her hands, but Felix and Sylvain had both seen her naked before when they were younger, and it wasn’t like she had breasts. So why did she suddenly feel so shy? She shook the thought from her head and stepped out of her pants, leaving her just in her smalls. Sylvain was distracted by the last of the glass and Felix was already nose-deep in the first book. She sat on the bed and stuck her legs into the dress, slowly pulling it up over her hips, then her waist, sticking her arms through the off-the-shoulder bands of fabric. She looked down at herself, the way the fabric flowed around her chiseled body and hid all the features she didn’t like made her euphoric. She cleared her throat quietly and the boys turned.
“Oh, Dima,” Sylvain said breathlessly, standing and approaching her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently as he looked Dima up and down. “You look beautiful.”
“What, no smooth lines for her?” Felix asked, leaning back in his chair and smiling.
“Beyond telling her how gorgeous she is? Nope, hopefully that’ll do the trick,” Sylvain said, winking at Dima. She’d never understood why Sylvain’s corny savant methods worked on so many girls, but now that they were being used on her, she did. It gave her butterflies.
“You really do look good,” Felix said from his seat. “Go into my room and look in the mirror.” Felix nodded his head in the direction of his room.
Dima nodded and stepped to the door. If she were Catherine’s height, she probably would have had to hike up the skirt a bit, but her added height made the dress fall just at her ankles. She stuck her head out the door, looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and then darted next door into Felix’s room. She hadn’t been in Felix’s room the whole time they’d been at the academy. It was sparse, with a few decorative swords hanging from the walls and unfinished homework covering his desk. Something about being in Felix’s room after all this time made Dima’s chest warm.
Stepping further into the room, she finally caught a glimpse of herself in Felix’s mirror. The dress fell around her beautifully, accentuating her hips and chest while not making her look uncomfortably broad. That was the benefit of borrowing a dress from a buff knight, Dima supposed. She ran her hands over the smooth fabric, turning to admire herself in different angles, feeling her tears threatening to spill over again. She looked pretty, genuinely pretty. She wanted to stay wrapped in this dress forever, but she knew that wasn’t a possibility. Dima took one last look at herself in the mirror before nodding and stepping back out into the hallway.
She was barely a foot out the door when she heard a whistle and froze in her tracks. She’d forgotten to check if the coast was clear and evidently it hadn’t been. Claude, Felix’s neighbor, was standing outside of his room, arms crossed. Dima’s eyes widened.
“Claude!” she exclaimed nervously. “What a surprise seeing you here.”
“I live here, Dimitri. I really don’t think I’m the surprise here.” Claude replied, looking her up and down.
Dima sighed. “Please don’t tell anyone about this,” she pleaded.
Claude threw his hands up in the air. “Hey, I’m not one to judge. But can I at least ask why…?” Claude gestured up and down the dress.
“No,” Dima said plainly.
Claude laughed at her bluntness. “Alright, alright, I’ll see you around… princess,” he teased with a wink. Little did he know that being called princess instead of prince gave Dima the same euphoria that the dress did. Hoping to avoid any more incidents, Dima quickly darted back into her room.
“You ok? I heard you talking to someone out there,” Sylvain said.
“Unfortunately, Claude saw me slipping out of Felix’s room,” she replied. Felix and Sylvain looked at each other, fearful. “He has promised not to say anything, but…he’s Claude.”
“If he can find some way to use this to his advantage, he will,” Felix said. Dima nodded. “Do you want us to talk some sense into him?” Dima knew that by “talk sense,” Felix meant “threaten with a sword."
She shook her head. “No, I hope that will not be necessary.”
Felix nodded. “So, I already found a couple things in these books,” Felix continued. Dima’s eyes brightened with hope. “One of these is on ancient Almyran priests, er, priestesses, I suppose, who are kind of like you. They were born male but received divine revelations about their ‘true nature.’ Some would even go as far as to take special potions to help them look more feminine. They were respected and revered in their time, apparently.”
“There…there are potions that can do that?” Dima asked nervously. She shouldn’t have been surprised; the abilities of magic in Fódlan were practically boundless. Taking into account magic from other lands, it should be little surprise that there are ones that could change one’s appearance as such.
Felix nodded. “Is that something you’d be interested in?” Dima nodded eagerly. “I’ll keep looking and see if there’s anything about how to make these potions or where we can find them.”
“In the meantime, do you want to head down and get some lunch?” Sylvain asked as the clock tolled twelve.
Dima nodded. “I should probably change first,” she said sheepishly. Sylvain nodded and turned away, always respectful of a lady. Dima quickly disrobed and threw on one of her more basic uniforms rather than her house leader one. The academy was slightly more relaxed on weekends, but Dima didn’t really own many clothes outside of her uniforms. She’d have to fix that sometime. Maybe Annette or Mercedes could take her shopping…but that would involve telling them. She had gotten lucky with how Sylvain and Felix had reacted, but she couldn’t count on everyone reacting so positively. She recalled her dream last night, how people had embraced her as queen with open arms, and sighed at the fact that that would have to remain a fantasy.
She had told Felix that she was interested in these potions, but as she thought about it, walking with the two men down to the dining hall, she realized it was likely an impossibility. She could wear dresses and be called Dima in private, but if she started to look like a woman, people would notice. And the people of Faerghus expected her to be king, not queen. A queen was little more than a figurehead in Faerghus, not a competent, capable ruler like Dima knew she could (and had to) be. Would she have to choose between her crown and her happiness? She knew that if she did, she would likely put her happiness second. She was the sole Blaiddyd heir. There was no one to take up the crown in her place, except for her Uncle Rufus, and she would rather not entertain that thought.
“Felix,” Dima said as the trio sat down with their food in the dining hall. “Maybe it would be best if you didn’t look into those potions more.”
“Why? You seemed so excited by it,” he said, a single brow raised.
Dima sighed and explained her concerns about having to choose between herself and her people. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Obviously you should choose your happiness.” Dima smiled sadly. That was Felix, always wanting to put what was important to him personally over duty and country. But that wasn’t a way Dima could live.
“I think Felix has a point,” Sylvain said through a mouthful of gratin. He swallowed before continuing. “You always put everyone else first. Do something for yourself. And so what if people have a problem with it? You’re the ruler of the nation. If anyone can usher in an era of change, it’s you.” Dima thought for a moment. “At least don’t quit on the idea before you’ve even tried it.”
As Sylvain finished speaking, Ingrid walked up to join the table. “Hey,” she said, sliding in across from Felix. “What’re you reading there?” Felix had brought the book down with him, and pulled it closer to himself at Ingrid’s inquisition.
“Just something I found interesting,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Ingrid grabbed the book before he could stop her.
“Ancient Almyran Priestesses: The Men Who Became Women? What in the goddess’s name is this?” Felix snatched the book back from her as she raised an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing,” Felix muttered, turning red, while Dima turned even paler. Ingrid didn’t look convinced.
“We’re not learning about anything like that in class, and you’re not one to do extra reading for fun,” she said, before she noticed that Sylvain and Dima also looked uncomfortable. “What’s going on here? What are you three hiding?”
“Seriously Ingrid, just drop it,” Sylvain pleaded.
She crossed her arms in defiance. “The four of us used to be best friends, we never used to keep secrets, and now the three of you are just shutting me out?” she asked, annoyed.
Dima sighed. “No, no, Ingrid, I just…they’re just trying to protect me,” she said quietly.
“Protect you? From what?” Ingrid asked. The other three looked at each other and Dima hung her head.
“From anyone knowing that I want to be a girl,” Dima muttered, burying her face in her hands.
“You want to what? ” she cried, earning her shushes from Felix and Sylvain. “Sorry, but you can’t blame me for being surprised.” At that moment, alerted by Ingrid’s cry, was the worst possible person to join the conversation; Claude.
“Hey gentlemen, Ingrid,” he said, sitting down next to Ingrid. “Just telling Ingrid what I saw earlier? I thought that was our little secret!” Claude pouted. Felix rolled his eyes.
“So you knew he wanted to be a girl?” Ingrid asked, annoyed.
Dima felt like she was going to melt into the chair.
“To be a girl, no, I just saw him dressed like one,” Claude said, smiling.
Felix balled up his fists, ready to swing, but Dima put a hand out to hold him back.
“Can you two just shut up?” Sylvain asked, equally as pissed as Felix. His tone was uncharacteristically serious, glaring between Claude and Ingrid. “This isn’t any of your business.”
Claude leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “Then I guess you don’t want to know that I have the stuff to make the potions that those priestesses used to use, huh?” he asked, nodding towards Felix’s book. Felix’s eyes narrowed while Dima's eyes widened.
“How do you know about them?” Dima asked.
“I like history,” he said and shrugged. Felix still didn’t look like he believed it. “Look, do you want the potions or not?” Dima, Felix, and Sylvain looked at each other before Dima nodded.
“What’s the catch?” Felix asked.
Claude shook his head. “No catch. Just wanting to help out a friend,” he said, standing up from the table. “The term in Almyra nowadays is transgender, by the way.” He winked and walked away, leaving the Faerghus Four staring at each other.
“Transgender…” Dima said softly to herself, seeing how the word felt in her mouth. It felt comfortable.
“I kinda like that,” Sylvain said, smiling.
“Wait, can we take several steps back and explain to me how this all happened?” Ingrid asked, and Sylvain and Felix quickly recounted the events of the previous night with Dima’s permission, omitting the deep, personal stuff about her ghosts.
“Oh, and she’s going by Dima now,” Sylvain added as they finished. “Just with us.”
Ingrid nodded slowly, taking in everything she’d just heard. “Do you want me to call you Dima, too?” she asked.
Dima gave a small nod. “If you don’t mind,” she said softly.
Ingrid smiled warmly, reaching out to take Dima’s hand. “Of course, Dima. Are you going to tell the rest of the Blue Lions?” she asked.
“We weren’t even planning to tell you,” Felix scoffed.
Dima shook her head. “In due time, perhaps. But this is all moving very quickly for me. I would like things to slow down just a bit,” she said.
Ingrid nodded. “Of course. Though, I am curious to see what Claude meant by you dressing like a girl,” she said, mischievous.
Dima blushed. “That can be arranged,” she said, giving Ingrid a small smile. Over Ingrid’s shoulder, Dima noticed a tall, blonde woman with a braided crown smiling at her, the only ghost she’d seen today.
As the quartet walked back to Dima’s room, she couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how lucky she was to have such accepting friends, friends who embraced her with open arms despite this strange phenomenon that she hadn’t even had a word for a few hours ago. Maybe if they were so accepting, the people of Faerghus could be too.
When they approached Dima’s room, however, they noticed there was already someone standing outside, holding a bottle of a thick, green liquid.
“Here,” Claude said, handing it to Dima. “Just a sip a day. The changes won’t happen overnight, though.”
Dima took the bottle, holding it like it was gold.
“That was quick,” Felix said, incredulous.
Claude just shrugged. “Not a hard potion to make,” he replied.
Dima looked up from the bottle at Claude and threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said softly. Claude patted her on the back before walking back into his room as the embrace broke.
Dima walked into her room, and Sylvain and Felix followed her inside; Ingrid waited in the hallway. Dima picked up the dress, which she had folded neatly on her desk. Before she could move to undress, though, she felt Sylvain wrap himself around her waist and put his head on her shoulder.
“Should we tell her about this too?” Sylvain asked. Felix hopped up on the desk and smiled at Dima. She melted into the hug and reached out a hand to Felix, who took it in his warm, calloused one.
“One thing at a time,” she said, closing her eyes and letting herself feel loved.