Chapter Text
With roots stretching far before Saint Seiros’s triumph at Tailtean, ancient tales of ghosts were whispered amongst the northern tribes that once inhabited Faerghus. Tradition demands to be passed down, so these tales lingered long enough for young Dimitri to hear of them spill from his father’s lips.
(In retrospect, these were quite dark for a child’s ears, even if the beloved King Lambert was gentle with his words.)
Spirits weighed down by regret and sorrow, walking the mortal realm for eternity enveloped in flame... Such was the fate of souls who crawled out of the cold underworld they damned themselves into. They were so desperate, scratching up into the dirt for a glimmer of light, but there was no happy ending waiting for them. They were no different from moths to a flame, attracted to light when they can only live in the dark. The sun’s light burns into their spectral body as if it was real, searing agony into their soul until the living resolves the regrets that chained them to the earth in the first place. It was a higher being’s torture device. Albeit blasphemous to claim, perhaps it belonged to the goddess.
Young Felix always cried whenever ghost stories came up, terrified by the concept of suffering. Sylvain would comfort him as Ingrid patted his head and said that tales are just tales, eager to seem mature. Dimitri, on the other hand, would just feel sad, pitying the lost souls for their eternal suffering and his young heart would cut straight through the intended message— the importance of carrying on the dead’s will.
Soldiers who fought and died for a just cause, victims who were unjustly killed as the murderer runs free, parents who died before they could see their children grow into happy adults— past regrets are things to set right, and as Faerghans, it is their duty to live to one’s fullest with a just heart for the fallen to rest in peace. Those were his father’s words to little Dima. When I am gone, please carry out my will and make me proud, okay?
But now that things are like this, who will bear the young prince’s regrets?
Night has fallen upon Garreg Mach. Nearly everyone is asleep, but in his new body, ‘Dimitri’ finds it impossible. The other Dimitri, meanwhile, is fast asleep on his bed.
...
Nothing makes sense.
It was just a couple of days ago when this strange curse befell upon him. The Blue Lions’ monthly mission was just a simple escort task and naturally, it concluded with the ease of an axe through the neck. On the way back to the monastery, the class stopped by a small, but well-kept local inn. Pheasant with berry sauce, onion gratin soup, and several other fish delicacies-- everyone enjoyed their meal with much gratitude, the young crown prince included. The innkeepers were good people, happy to see the smiles of these visiting children in such a remote place (“We aren’t children,” Felix sharply spat.). And yet, despite the smooth ride and light-hearted atmosphere, ‘Dimitri’ couldn’t sleep well that night, opting to watch the stars in peace (Ingrid’s loud snoring was thankfully distant from his ears). It was a beautiful clear night-- not a single cloud in sight to block the crescent moon above.
And then, there was a shooting star.
‘Dimitri’ knew that wish-granting stars were things of legends-- things you do but don’t expect to work, but ‘Dimitri’ found little things like that to be charming. The political realm is one of cutthroat logic and ruthlessness-- one where masks must be worn even among those who swore undying loyalty to the crown. Such was the kind of world that ‘Dimitri’ must enter to do his duty, much like his father and his ancestors from before. That’s why small fantasies like wish-granting stars are nice; because one day, there will be little time for frivolous thoughts like that.
At least, that’s what he thinks based on his father’s actions.
So busy, so tired, but for the sake of the people, it’s what he must do, he says. He looks like a man burdened with guilt, pushing himself as some kind of atonement. Atoning for what? ‘Dimitri’ can only guess. When was the last time they had a hunting trip together? When was the last time father and stepmother had a day just for them? ‘Dimitri’ wishes that his father would be more selfish like other nobles sometimes-- taking long vacations and letting others handle the hard work, and yet at the same time... well, he can’t bring himself to do just that. Felix called him a hypocritical workaholic, which is probably the worst insult Felix has ever called him in his life. Deep inside, ‘Dimitri’ knows it's true. Still, he has faith in his father’s work. Diplomacy requires careful care.
The star long disappeared but ‘Dimitri’ was still wandering with his thoughts. There are typical wishes out there like ‘world peace’ or ‘prosperity to Faerghus’, but on that night, ‘Dimitri’ wished for something different-- something that later became painfully ironic.
“I wish I could be friends with Prince Khalid,” he whispered to no one.
It wasn’t just out of obligation (though politics were somewhat relevant)-- ‘Dimitri’ knew that the foreign prince had a good heart. Not only did his step-sister say good things about him (as good as El can, anyway), but he’s also aware that Khalid’s sourness towards him was purely his own fault. He can’t control his strength and for him to just blame it on his crest without even trying to fix it would be… it strikes ‘Dimitri’ as a terribly irresponsible mentality. His father may be too stubborn to neglect his duties for a breath of fresh air, but surely, something like this-- something that ‘Dimitri’ understands very well and is well within his grasp… he can fix it, right?
Perhaps, this is all too silly to think about. It’s just a shooting star.
“Perhaps, all that was needed was a little sincerity.”
The dark night sky brightened before ‘Dimitri’’s eyes, and the shooting star from earlier pierced through his heart. His vision faded to black, his body grew numb….
Neither dreams nor nightmares were waiting for him.
When ‘Dimitri’ woke up, he was greeted with the sight of an imposter. An uncanny sight-- as if his mirror reflection started moving on its own. When he moved, he realized how light he felt. When he looked down, he realized how translucent he was. When he made a sharp gasp, he realized how distorted his voice was.
Nothing makes sense. It’s all wrong.
Fortunately, he wasn't in an unknown location at the very least-- it was just the monastery kitchen. The imposter seemed to be making some kind of bread and although his eyes widened for a brief moment, he greeted him as if nothing was wrong.
“Who are you?”
“Me? I am you.”
Trying to push, kick, punch, whatever-- it was all useless. The imposter chuckled after his counterpart tried to lunge at him. Futility is funny, apparently. He didn’t even look at him.
“Do you remember the story father would tell when we were kids? The one about ‘hell flowers’?”
‘Dimitri’ didn’t grace him with a proper answer, repeating his demand for the doppelganger’s identity, but he was brushed off.
“Those who died in anguish, chained to the earth by their regrets-- they peek out of the soil like flowers, only to burn within a hot, inextinguishable fire. ‘Hell flowers’, some may call them. That was the fate I expected.” At the final word, the other Dimitri slammed the dough he was kneading with a bit more force onto the floured surface. The noise echoed within the kitchen.
“Then, you’re… a ghost?” Possession . That was the word that immediately came to ‘Dimitri’’s mind.
“I died, but it seems like to me, the ghost here is you, is it not? If you have no regrets, then it makes sense why you aren’t burning.” The bitterness in his voice wasn’t subtle. “You lived a fortunate life in this world, have you not? Even if your life was cut short, you haven’t experienced real agony. Real regrets.”
Real agony? Regrets? None of those things matter-- this stranger, this intruder--! ‘Dimitri’ isn’t keen on relieving childhood horror stories.
“I’m not dead.” I’m not dead , he repeated within his own mind.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. There’s much I don’t know about our… situation, so how about I tell you what I do know?”
He went on to tell him what happened earlier that day; what he said to Khalid, what he plans to do to smooth over their relationship, how he wishes to spoil him…. ‘Dimitri’ tried to grab whatever objects he could to no avail, but his ears were still open for his counterpart’s words. This man’s infatuation with Prince Khalid… should he be concerned for Khalid’s safety, or did he have a hand in this? He doesn’t like how his voice sounds-- not when it’s not his own words.
And then El, she--
“What are you doing, Dima?”
Edelgard von Hresvelg, the proud ninth child and fourth princess of the Adrestian royal family and ‘Dimitri’’s dear sibling of another’s blood, stood before him with a hand over her hip, gazing directly at the other Dimitri’s eyes.
The imposter froze still.
“E-Edelgard. You surprised me.” His voice is dry-- stilted, but if the princess noticed, she didn’t mention it. “I am… just trying out a recipe I found.”
“El! Can you hear me? El!” ‘Dimitri’ tried to grab her hand out of instinct, but he just phased through her….
She can’t hear him.
“It’s just us around. You can call me El now.” El glanced towards her step-brother’s flour-dusted hands. “I didn’t know you were interested in cooking-- actually, whatever. There is something you need to know. Khalid, he--”
“...found out about us? I know.”
El’s shocked silence allowed the imposter to speak about Khalid’s apology and promise-- his past smugness absent. ‘Dimitri’ didn’t know how to feel about Khalid’s actions, mostly because he’s too distressed about losing control over his own body to care. He can’t grab or touch anything or anyone. No one can hear him except for the intruder inside his body. He can’t repossess his own body by force. Just….
‘Dimitri’’s helplessness leaves him dead silent as he watches his step-sister talk to the other Dimitri.
“...I see. Well, you should still be careful and keep an eye on him. He probably apologized because I spooked him a bit.”
“There are times when a ruler must have an open mind to serve the needs of his people. For Khalid, I’m willing to spare that trust and forgiveness.” Familiar words, but it was spoken as if he recited it.
“Yes, yes, you told me that before. I’ll leave you to your… bread-making.” El turned away, preparing to depart before asking one final question. “Is it for your class?”
“It’s… it’s for a special someone.”
El blinked twice. Her neck snapped back to her step-brother. “Oh.”
“Hmm?”
“...I just thought that-- never mind. Do what you want.”
And so she left.
The imposter whispered under his breath. “...What was that about?”
‘Dimitri’ didn’t answer right away, and really, he wasn’t planning on saying anything until--
“I wasn’t lying about not knowing why things are like this, but while I’m here, I do have one goal, and that is to make Khalid happy… and to give him the love he deserves.”
The other Dimitri’s expression didn’t betray deceit. ‘Dimitri’ is far from a perfect lie detector, but he had a basic idea of what lying looked like and was even told of his own habits after Sylvain smugly rubbed it in his face after a landslide victory in cards. It’s not just that, however. He brushed comments about his resemblance to his father aside as generic compliments, but when he looked at his body at this angle, he can’t ignore how similar it looked to his father’s figure eclipsing a window of sunlight, as he stares down a pesky noble as the king of Faerghus-- a face he never shown to his own son directly. It’s intimidating.
‘Dimitri’ gulped as Dimitri continued.
“I have no plans on ruining your life, whether it be embarrassment or otherwise. I don’t have plans on ruining the lives of others as long as they don’t interfere. Not even… not even her.” Dimitri glanced to the kitchen’s exit for the briefest of seconds. “I’m sure that keeping up the facade is to your benefit, is it not? I wished to keep you up to date with what I’ve been doing, and did just that. Is an exchange of information not due?”
Ignoring the question once again, ‘Dimitri’ said, “...and for me to get my body back. That’s also not one of your goals either, is it?”
There was no hesitation in the stranger’s voice. “It is not, but if that’s what you want, I won’t stop you from trying.”
Dimitri steps forward, and the suddenness makes ‘Dimitri’ step back instinctively. With a single wave, his real hand phrased through his spectral body, causing the imposter to sigh.
“Well, it seems that I cannot stop you even if I tried. However…”
Somehow, as the other Dimitri came close enough to have his mouth next to his ear, ‘Dimitri’ felt even colder-- even stiffer, and the voice that came out perfectly matched the temperature.
“The impossible is nothing to me if it concerns Khalid. Him being a different Claude. You being a different me. None of that matters. Should you make an enemy out of me, never forget: you won’t be safe .”
Claude? 'Dimitri' wanted ask, but he couldn't open his mouth. The imposter stepped away and gave him a warm smile.
“...so be a good boy, okay?”
With a single nod, that was the end of their conversation. The bread was finished, delivered to the stranger’s beloved, and a few hours later, it was bedtime.
‘Dimitri’ is still processing what he heard from Dimitri’s and Khalid’s conversation. It does seem like the foreign prince is clueless, but how much of what was said is true? Of course, the pretext of Dimitri merely ‘inheriting’ his other memories is horseshit, but the story of another timeline, another love…. It would explain why he’s so protective of Khalid. Still, it feels so bizarre to think that such a life could’ve been theirs-- a life where he is a concubine to Almyra’s king. And Khalid he… he never looked so comfortable around him. His heart feels heavy. Why couldn’t he have that before all of this happened? If it was ‘Dimitri’-- the real Dimitri-- would he be allowed to embrace him? Allowed to ask for something more?
(He should put an end to those thoughts.)
That aside, the mention of war is… concerning. ‘Dimitri’ did think back to the whispers of pompous Adrestian nobles, sneering about how things would be so much better if Fodlan was unified under the Adrestian flag, but it’s no use thinking about that. Not when he can’t even use his own mouth to speak.
Was all of this really out of the other Dimitri’s hands? That his intrusion was some work of fate by the goddess? When will it be reversed? Will it ever be reversed?
Instead of twiddling his thumbs, ‘Dimitri’ decided to explore a bit. It makes him a bit uneasy to move away from his body unchecked, but it should be okay if the man is sleeping, right?
Phrasing through walls and floors is expectedly easy (and surreal), but how far can he be from his body? Facing the right wall, he walked straight (‘floated’, to be more accurate) into Felix’s room.
Felix.
He saw him earlier today and like El, he couldn’t hear nor see his closest friend (he should probably stop trying). Now, he’s sleeping straight as a board, a far cry of the little starfish he was as a child. Ever since Glenn was knighted, Felix tried his best to cut down his crybaby reputation and it seems like the method he settled on is to emulate his brother as much as he could. ‘Dimitri’ remembers Glenn telling him in the typical roundabout Glenn-like way that he wishes that his little brother would cut his own path (before saying “never mind” since it’s not like he wants to imply that Felix should be dragged away from his best friend’s side). The prince understands the sentiment. It’s somehow simultaneously charming and concerning that Felix admires his brother so much. Regardless of how he acted, ‘Dimitri’ would’ve loved no one else to be his right hand.
He wonders if Felix feels the same. Would the other Dimitri be just as good of a liege for him?
If things stayed like this for years-- if things stayed like this forever , would things be alright? Would Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, and everyone else be happy with him? Would the other Dimitri, equipped with the experience of another life, be a better ruler than ‘Dimitri’?
These thoughts may seem so silly to another. Didn’t he admit that he was just a concubine? That all of Fodlan was left onto another’s hands? In the end, he isn’t you. Snap out of it, you weren’t raised to be so weak-minded!
But still, he hates it. He hates how someone has yet to see the face beneath the mask. How ‘Dimitri’ isn’t Dimitri. His heart quickened with impatience and yearning. It’s been barely a day, calm down.
‘Dimitri’ walked to the next room. It was Khalid’s. The empty basket his other self brought was still there, sitting on the desk.
Around midway into the room, ‘Dimitri’ slammed face-first into an invisible wall. A barrier? He didn’t feel any pain like a regular wall would, but there was certainly some kind of opposing force that’s stopping him from moving forward. He presses his hand towards the barrier and he can feel the pads of his fingers flattening as he applies more pressure. Starting from where his body was lying, which is on the leftmost side of the room, his limit seems to be about two and a half rooms away. He’ll probably have to follow the barrier’s edge to see if it’s the same in all directions.
A groan rang out in the silent room. ‘Dimitri’ snapped to the sleeping Khalid’s direction to see… that yes, he’s still sleeping. He just adjusted his position a bit. Goddess, his face looks soft like this. ‘Dimitri’ wants to touch his soft cheeks so badly. A glimmer of light sparkled next to his face, reflecting the moon’s light. It was a necklace with a rather ostentatious emerald ring instead of the typical locket or amulet.
Oh, of course, it’s probably his engagement ring. He probably hung it around his neck to not get in the way of archery practice. If ‘Dimitri’ recalls correctly, his fiancée was a girl named Hilda from Goneril. Sylvain mentioned it after a failed attempt to seduce the young lady into a ‘night of forbidden passion’ as he called it.
…
Prince Khalid’s engaged.
…
Fuck , Khalid’s engaged.
When Khalid woke up, he found himself missing Dimitri’s snuggles.
Okay, that sounds kind of sad when put that way given that his change of heart happened in the span of a single day, but whether it’s because of a dream he’d already forgotten or remnants of what happened yesterday, he can still feel the Faerghan prince’s arms ghosting his body-- his neck singing for light kisses and his ears craving for affectionate whispers….
Gods, he has it bad. He can’t believe he made it this far without dabbing into that soft part of his heart.
The bed was incredibly warm and comfortable, but Khalid summoned all of his willpower to sit up and greet the morning. The basket, now empty after Khalid devoured all the bread, is sitting right on top of the desk-- evidence that, yes, yesterday was indeed real. No, Khalid will not break down a second time over the reality of Dimitri’s affection.
Cool, so now what?
…
Oh, of course, you idiot. You have to get ready for class!
His morning routine was as mind-numbing as always, his body moving through the motions with little thought. In the back of his mind, he knew he overslept a bit-- he never had such a good night’s sleep in a while (Was it Dimitri’s fault? Probably!). Guess Lorenz is about to give him an earful about keeping the class waiting in his usual backhanded way because of course , he can’t offend the foreign diplomat too badly! (Just say it straight to me, Lorenz. You’re fooling no one.)
Dashing out of the dorms, he made way for the Golden Deer’s classroom, and just as he suspected, everyone but him was there.
Well, except for one person.
Hilda’s peppy smile was the first thing he saw. “Ey, I beat Khalid to class today! Please tell me at least one of you guys betted money in my favor because you just made a killing!”
Leonie sighs. “Of course not, Hilda. There was no bet, and even if there was, I swear everyone would’ve lost their money. It’s not like you to be this late, Khalid.”
“Leonie, the correct way to address him is--”
“Yeah, yeah, Lorenz. It’s ‘Your Highness’, but Khalid said it’s fine, so it’s fine.”
Raphael hummed in agreement. “Khalid is Khalid. That’s what Khalid said, right?”
“To be honest, I personally find it difficult to call a prince as anything but ‘Your Highness’,” Ignatz meekly quipped (followed by an expression that says "I regret saying anything at all").
“Hey, didn’t I say that you can call me with whatever’s comfortable? Even if I’m the leader, we’re all students at the end of the day.” After the Almyran prince takes a seat, he asks, “Where’s Teach?”
Lorenz scoffs. “Fortunately for you, it seems like you weren’t the only one who overslept. I suppose that grading those tests took a toll on her last night.”
Hilda laughs. “Hah, it wouldn’t be Lorenz if he isn’t eager to make excuses for the professor. You know that she’s married and has a child, right?”
“I can recognize behavior that is an exception and not the rule. Her being late today does not detract from her performance as an instructor thus far. Your infantile provocations are as transparent as the glass Professor Hanneman uses to look through his texts.”
Now that got a chuckle out of him. “Wow! What are you going to fire back at that, my dear Hilda?”
“Oh, Khalid! How could you stand aside as your fiancée is verbally assaulted?” she teased in her usual Hilda-like fashion.
Although the pair were engaged, an arranged marriage is an arranged marriage. There weren’t any sparks going on between them and the two were on the same page in that regard (Hilda isn’t subtle about her affection for a certain blue-haired girl.). Really, Khalid found himself fortunate that he’s hooked up with a partner that he can actually get along with. A marriage, even for the good of the two nations, could end in disaster with the wrong pair. His mother eloping to the other side of the mountains is at least proof that said disaster can be averted. Not that he has to worry about that, hah. (Totally.)
Class banter went on for a bit-- a pretty long bit considering how bright the sun is shining now, but all things would have to end at some point, it ended mid-sentence for the young diplomat.
“You know, I heard that if the teacher is 15 minutes late, we can legally--”
The door slammed open.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!”
Sitri Eisner, or rather, Professor Eisner busted through the door. Her hair was uncharacteristically unkempt and-- ok, everything about her looked unkempt. She looked like she just had the run of her life just now. Some of the papers from her handy satchel flew out and Marianne quietly stood up to pick them up, earning thanks from her professor.
“Goddess, I must apologize. It’s rather shameful of me to keep my students waiting.”
“No need to apologize, Professor Eisner,” said Lorenz, like the kiss-ass he was. “We are all grateful to have you here.” (“No, we’re not!” said Hilda in the loudest kind of whisper, despairing after having her dreams of canceled classes crushed.)
Today was on faith magic basics, which is probably one of the least interesting subjects in Khalid’s eyes, not just because he isn’t a Seiros devout, but because he isn’t a ‘faith’ kind of guy. Having Almyran gods in mind instead of the Fodlan goddess wouldn’t change anything. If anything else, he’s more of a medicine kind of guy. Plants are cool. Mushrooms are also cool. The pill that cured him of the effects of deadly poison that one time in Almyra is very cool.
Teach was a good teacher though, so somehow, he managed to pay attention until the end. Before he knew it, class ended, and he was ready to pack up like everyone else.
Then, he was called over by the professor, her hands motioning him to come forward.
Wait, his disinterest wasn’t that obvious, was it? Teach didn’t look angry at him or anything, but Khalid straightened his back regardless.
“Is there something you need, Teach?”
“Somewhat. It’s… well, this may sound very strange, but there’s something I need to show you tonight. When the sun sets, will you be able to stop by my office? I promise that you aren’t in trouble if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Khalid blinked. “Oh, um. Sure. That won’t be a problem. I’ll be there.”
He has no idea what Teach has to say that can’t be said here, but it’s not like he has an excuse that made sense in his head. Besides, if he’s not in trouble, what’s the worst that could happen? Maybe she wanted his input on something but is busy with other things to take care of.
Teach smiled. “Thank you, Khalid. I’ll see you soon.” With that, she departed.
Well then.
Khalid mused on what to do for the rest of the day. Homework isn’t due for a week, so maybe a stop by the town nearby would be nice. Ah, but he also could do some training. His fingers are itching to let loose some arrows. But wait, there was that food stand that he hasn’t tried yet! And maybe he can pick up some other things like--
“Khalid~”
“Woah!” Khalid jumped and that evoked a chuckle from his surprise guest. It’s him, the prince of Faerghus.
“Wow, Dimitri, you, uh, really surprised me.” He swore he didn’t hear a single thing and yet the prince managed to whisper right next to his left ear. Was Dimitri trying out for the assassin certification or something? He’s wearing metal boots for gods’ sake!
“My apologies. I couldn’t help myself when I saw you lost in thought.” The golden-haired prince lightly caresses Khalid’s cheek (holy shit) and says, “That aside, are you free for the day?”
“Huh?”
“I was thinking that we should go on a date, my love.”
Dimitri’s warm smile makes it very hard to say no.