Chapter Text
“Your Majesty, I would not be suggesting this if it were not for the good of the people,” Rodrigue said quietly, his posture impeccable as he handed Dimitri the gilded invitation across his desk.
Dimitri’s posture on the other hand was a slumping mess as he wearily took the thick parchment in his hand — idly, he wondered if the scribes at Garreg Mach had chosen a thicker stock because of his strength. The invitation itself was simple yet elegant, penned in a deep verdant ink: Her Holiness, the Archbishop Rhea, requests your presence for the millennial anniversary celebration of Garreg Mach Monastery’s dedication and consecration.
It was indeed an innocent enough invitation, with the date and details for a ball enclosed on a separate sheet of parchment. Yet what Rodrigue was proposing was anything but innocent.
“You’re asking me to seduce the scion of the Archbishop,” Dimitri said flatly, dropping the invitation on his desk as he massaged his temple with the other. He’d already had a headache brewing before this whole conversation even started, and the subject matter certainly wasn’t helping.
“‘Seduce’ is a rather strong word for what I’m suggesting, Your Majesty,” Rodrigue said flatly, raising an eyebrow. “This would be nothing more than securing a firmer alliance with the Church.”
“Through marriage,” Dimitri ground out.
“Yes,” Rodrigue agreed. “Through marriage.”
The very idea galled Dimitri. His father had married the love of his life, Queen Alicia, and though he had never known his birth mother, tales of their affection and devotion for each other were whispered in the castle halls to this day. And while Father’s marriage to Queen Patricia had been political — how could a marriage to a king be considered anything but? — they had still loved each other, courting for a year before his proposal.
Growing up, Dimitri had expected the same for himself: he would meet the love of his life sometime shortly after his return from the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach (well, that was what Sylvain goaded him to do; Dimitri was perfectly fine with waiting a few more years). They would court for a lengthy season — a year or two, perhaps longer — so Dimitri would truly know his future spouse: what brought smiles to their lips, how much they cared about the kingdom and their people. Their marriage would be a replica of his father’s, filled with laughter and joy.
He should have known that any chance for that sort of life was dead along with his family after Duscur.
Knowing was different from feeling, however, and the thought of proposing to the Archbishop’s heir without even getting the chance to meet her first made his stomach churn. “I don’t know her, Rodrigue. I’ve never even seen her before.” Rhea was famously an enigma, her heir even more so. He didn’t even know her first name, only the surname: Eisner.
“My sources at Garreg Mach have told me Lady Eisner is a reasonable woman,” Rodrigue countered gently. “Lately, Lady Rhea has allowed her to have say in hearings regarding church dissidents. Her judgements have always been fair and just.” He paused, then added, “They also say she is quite a rare beauty.”
Dimitri flushed, rooting his gaze to the desk; was he talking to his most trusted advisor or Sylvain? “Is this truly necessary, Rodrigue?” he asked once more, unable to mask the strain in his voice. “We already have ties with the Church; our history binds us together. Surely an arranged marriage is just a formality; besides, the political upheaval of such a union—”
“Would be minimal.” Rodrigue sighed as he leaned forward. “Lady Rhea will not be stepping down from her role as Archbishop for quite some time, and Lady Eisner has not officially been declared as her heir. Trust me, Your Majesty, I wouldn’t be proposing this marriage if it would lead to Faerghus’s ruin.” He paused.
“Nor would I propose it if it truly had no benefit besides political clout. You are correct; history does connect us and the Church. But that connection is thin and tenuous now; the Church barely intervened when we needed them most in Duscur. With this marriage, we would have direct influence on the Archbishop herself, as well as have access to the Knights of Seiros. Our forces are weak from the Tragedy — even now, Dimitri,” he said sternly as Dimitri’s lips parted to object. “The insurrections and unrest have left us vulnerable, not to mention the rising banditry problem. With the support of the Church and the Knights of Seiros through your marriage to Lady Eisner, Faerghus’s citizens would have the stability and security they need.”
Teeth gritted, Dimitri’s stare fell back down to his desk. He couldn’t argue with that; in fact, he shouldn’t be arguing with Rodrigue at all. As Faerghus’s king, he was to live and die for his people. Refusing a deal that would improve their lives simply due to his distaste for the idea was only selfish and petty.
That selfish and petty part of him was far larger than he’d ever like to admit, however.
Swallowing, he stared down at the parchment lying on his desk, with its clean lettering and elegant gilding. It almost seemed to mock him with how simple it was.
“When do we leave for the monastery?” he asked quietly, looking up at Rodrigue with resignation.
The chilly air on the balcony was a pleasant contrast to the burning in his throat as Dimitri sipped at his brandy. Alcohol was normally a vice he tried to avoid, as it dulled what fragile control over his strength he had left. Yet the Millennial Celebration loomed over him like a storm cloud, and he desperately craved something to ease the nervousness pooling in his stomach. He stared down at the amber liquid in the steel cup — no crystal or glass for a bearer of the Crest of Blaiddyd — as if he could find an escape from this situation in its depths.
“It grows late, Your Majesty.” Dedue’s voice rumbled from behind him, and Dimitri glanced back to see the large man’s silhouette against the glow of the fireplace inside. “You will have an early day tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. Somehow, despite his anxiety whenever he thought of the date of the millenium festival, it had snuck up on him. Tomorrow they would leave for Garreg Mach Monastery, a place he had not visited in over five years.
And there, he would do his best to charm Lady Eisner into agreeing to marry him.
He tossed back another gulp of brandy at the thought. If only it will be as simple as Rodrigue makes it out to be. While he didn’t know Lady Eisner at all, he knew of her, and there was one fact that stuck out about the rest.
Her hand was the most sought after in Fódlan.
After he’d agreed to Rodrigue’s plan, he’d requested information on the elusive scion of Archbishop Rhea. The results were disappointingly scarce, due to her anonymity and lack of sightings outside Garreg Mach, but everyone he’d spoken to emphasized how popular she was regarding proposals of marriage. Ever since her age of majority, ambitious lords and ladies had sent her their offers, only to be rejected each time. Rumors said that the numbers of these rejections loomed somewhere in the hundreds.
And the Millenial Festival would be the perfect time for all the nobles in attendance to attempt their own proposals. “I’m not saying that everyone who’s there is gonna get down on one knee and give her rings,” Sylvain had said teasingly, “but you’re gonna go up against some stiff competition, Your Majesty.”
"Stiff competition" was an understatement, Dimitri mused grimly. Emperor Edelgard and Claude Von Riegan, leader of the Leicester Alliance, would be attending the festival as well. While Dimitri didn’t know much about Von Riegan besides his political expertise, he knew that Edelgard would spring at the opportunity to gain a powerful ally in the Church of Seiros. He doubted Von Riegan would pass up the chance to propose either.
The Adrestrian Empire was Fódlan’s crowing jewel, established by Saint Seiros herself. While Edelgard’s overturn of the Insurrection of the Seven was looked upon negatively, her country itself was stronger than ever. The Leicester Alliance boasted a strong network of trade and a growing political clout. Both the Empire and the Alliance were far more financially stable than the Kingdom.
And Dimitri was somehow supposed to convince Lady Eisner to marry him: the king of a suffering nation, still torn apart by the Tragedy seven years later and limping along to barely survive.
Please. Glenn snorted, and he squeezed his eye shut at the sound. You know why you’re really afraid. Do you honestly think she’d engage herself to a monster like you?
Someone who let us all d—
“Your Majesty?”
Dimitri shivered, not from the cold, then turned to face Dedue. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he answered softly. “I’m just… lost in thought tonight.”
“That is understandable,” Dedue said softly, stepping out into the night air. “The Millenial Fair will be an event of great significance.” He stood at Dimitri’s side, and Dimitri smiled at the gesture; for seven years he’d been trying to coax Dedue to see themselves as equals, with the man refusing each time in an attempt to respect Dimitri’s station. However, time had dulled that mentality; instead of standing behind him, Dedue stood by him. It was a difference that Dimitri was proud to see in his friend.
If only the rest of the world could see it the same way.
“Are you nervous, Your Majesty?” Dedue asked, his voice barely audible over the wind.
“I’m terrified,” Dimitri answered frankly, chuckling bitterly as he looked over the balcony. Beneath him, the lights of Fhirdiad flickered in the darkness, like tiny candle flames. “But… it must be done.”
“Must it?” Dedue looked at him with a somber expression. “To sacrifice your happiness for the sake of the kingdom…”
“It must be done,” Dimitri repeated quietly. “My happiness matters little compared to the safety of our people. Of your people.” Swallowing thickly, he faced Dedue. “With the Knights of Seiros, perhaps Duscur can finally receive the protection it deserves.”
“Perhaps,” Dedue admitted, his voice somber. “Nevertheless, your happiness does matter, Your Majesty.” His hands rested on the balcony’s railing. “Yet if this is what you believe must be done, then I will support you as best I can.”
“Thank you, Dedue.” Dimitri glanced down at the empty cup in his hand, the burning of the alcohol starting to warm his blood.
“Though you may require the support of Lord Gautier more than mine. He is well experienced in these sorts of matters,” Dedue added offhandedly.
With a groan, Dimitri sank down onto the railing, burying his face in his folded arms. “Goddess, don’t remind me.” The fact that he would probably have to approach Sylvain in regards to wooing Lady Eisner was mortifying to him. And if Felix and Ingrid were there, it would only be worse. He could already hear the dagger jokes they’d make at his expense.
“Then I will remind you instead that we have a long day of travel ahead tomorrow, and it is best that you get as much rest as possible,” Dedue prompted gently.
Wordlessly Dimitri nodded, pulling away from the balcony to enter his chambers. Dedue followed, crossing to the door. “Good night, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, bowing as he exited.
“Good night, Dedue. And thank you again.” Dedue’s presence always had a way of settling him when he was at his most anxious. As the door clicked shut, Dimitri prepared himself for bed, dressing in nightclothes before extinguishing the candles and slipping beneath the covers. It would be another sleepless night, he knew, but Dedue was right: he’d need all the strength he could for the days ahead.
As he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, he wondered what meeting Lady Eisner would be like. It was a terrifying thought, but somehow a small spark of curiosity cut through the fear and trepidation. Rodrigue had spoken of fairness and beauty, and most of the lords and ladies he'd consulted with about her agreed that while mysterious, she was known for her level head and equal regard to all.
Perhaps... Perhaps he could see this opportunity as more than just a way to help his kingdom.