Author's Note: Another Painful chapter, but things are going to be picking up soon, I promise. Still, there are one or two actually-fun moments in here, too, so that's a thing.


Chapter Seven: Waiting

The trip back to the castle happened in something of a haze. Dimitri attempted to push Dedue's body back himself, despite being nearly half a day's march from Fhirdiad. He knew it was stupid, but what else could he do?

Eventually, a few knights showed up, tying Dedue to their horses at Dimitri's insistence. He should've been angry that they'd disobeyed his orders not to follow, but he was too relieved to care. It was the only way to get Dedue home in a reasonable amount of time.

Finally, they arrived at the castle, and—despite Dimitri's protests—they hauled Dedue to his ruined quarters. It wasn't hard to get him inside, what with the giant hole in the wall. Then, the soldiers left, leaving Dimitri alone with the barely-conscious Dedue.

Dimitri stared at him silently. Dedue really was in bad shape, with the deep slashes on his arm and stomach (Dimitri's fault). One of his arms fell limply at his side, hand swollen badly (also Dimitri's fault). Despite the continued rise and fall of his chest, his eyes were still closed, and his mouth hung slightly open.

Finally, Dimitri took a deep breath, stepped forward, and put a hand on Dedue's chin.

"You'll be fine," he whispered. "We'll heal you up, and you'll be just fine."

With that, Dimitri turned around and left the room, choosing to ignore the way his eyes were prickling.


Dimitri barely left Dedue's room the next day, which didn't go unnoticed by most of the castle staff (nor the stonemasons they'd hired to repair the wall).

"Doesn't His Majesty have better things to do?" he heard a scout whisper.

"I thought so, too, but I guess not," the man's partner replied, apparently less concerned with keeping his voice down.

"The Alliance nobles are supposed to be coming back in a few days, so you'd think he'd be getting ready for that, but…"

Dimitri closed his eyes and shook his head as their footsteps faded. He had plenty of time to get ready for that. Besides, there wasn't much to do from his end… The meeting was mostly supposed to cover whatever the Alliance had managed to dig up, so Dimitri didn't need to get any of his own information prepared.

Regardless, Dedue felt like a much more pressing issue right now. He knew this was all important, but… Dedue was right in front of him, and his condition was Dimitri's fault. It was more immediate, more visible.

"Really, you'd think he wouldn't want that thing around the castle, when it's doing something like this," one of the masons grumbled. "But what do I know—"

Dimitri shot him a withering glare, and he promptly fell silent. Eventually, he and his coworkers went off to take a break, and Dimitri and Dedue were finally left alone. He wasn't sure how long it had been, but Dimitri realized now just how stiff he was. Despite bringing a comfortable chair from his own quarters, he'd been sitting in one spot for quite a while.

"Dimitri?"

Mercedes's voice came from near the door. He looked up and smiled wearily at her; she had a small basket of food with her, and she hesitantly offered him one of the pastries she'd made. Dimitri stood up—back creaking in protest—and took it from her.

"Thank you, Mercedes." Dimitri sighed and took a bite out of it. "I know you've stayed here longer than you intended… I didn't mean to make you do more work."

"I was thinking about going home soon, but…" Mercedes shrugged. "They've really appreciated my help at the castle's chapel, you know? It feels nice to have something to do. And it's been good to make decisions for myself, instead of letting my adopted father do it all for me."

He nodded as he ate some more of the pastry, sorely wishing he could taste it better. It smelled wonderful, and had a soft filling that was probably made from some kind of fruit. Mercedes had really outdone herself with these, and he did appreciate it—Dimitri just wished he could appreciate it more.

"I can imagine," he replied after finishing it off. "You've just done so much for me, and for…him…" Dimitri briefly cast his eyes at Dedue before going on. "So if you need anything at all…"

"I know; I'll be sure to ask." Mercedes laughed gently. "And I do hope Dedue recovers, too. Would you like me to try?"

"If you don't mind…"

She nodded, set the basket down on Dimitri's chair, and looked Dedue over. There were so many places that needed healing, it was probably hard to figure out where to start. Finally, she held her hands out in front of his stomach, a faint white glow emanating from her fingertips. The edges of the gash glowed as well, and Mercedes closed her eyes and pursed her lips. After several seconds, she gasped lightly and stepped back, opening her eyes to examine her work.

"It…looks a little better," she said weakly. "Not by much, but…"

The wound did look slightly narrower than it had before. Dedue grunted and shifted in his sleep, and Dimitri wondered if he'd felt the healing at all. Regardless, Dimitri smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"It's fine," he replied, hoping he sounded reassuring. "You may try again later, if you'd rather."

Mercedes nodded, taking another deep breath. There was a faint trickle of sweat running down her forehead, but that didn't seem to deter her. Before stepping out the door, she smiled again and gestured at the food she'd left him, and then Mercedes waved and left.

Dimitri sighed, taking another pastry. He really should do something for her, but what? Moving the basket aside, he sat down and chewed slowly as he thought it over.

Well, there was one thing that came to mind—Dimitri only hoped it went better than he assumed it would.


Dimitri cursed under his breath as he crushed what felt like his tenth needle.

The previous afternoon, he'd taken just long enough of a break to purchase a small length of cloth and some thread from a tailor's shop near the castle. Mercedes had given him some sewing lessons way back when, and Dimitri thought this might be a good way to show her some appreciation. He'd done fairly well last time he'd tried, but…it had been a long time since he'd practiced. Now Dimitri was rusty, and he was back to destroying almost every needle he touched.

"This is ridiculous, Dedue," he muttered. "You'd think I could at least thread a needle by this point."

All right, that was an exaggeration, Dimitri silently admitted. He'd managed to get a couple needles threaded, but then he twisted them in half after making a few stitches. The result wasn't much better, though; Dimitri had made very little progress.

He was working in Dedue's room, too, still refusing to leave him alone. Dimitri was less sure than ever if Dedue could hear him, but…talking as he worked made him feel better. The stonemasons had worked overtime and finished the wall that morning, and Dimitri had to admit that their bewilderment at the sight of the king sewing was worth a laugh, if nothing else.

"I don't think I got all of the right colors, either," Dimitri continued. "I should've just taken one of those flowers with me, but…"

He glanced at the vase of flowers off to the side of Dedue's room. Miraculously, it hadn't been damaged when Dedue had fled from his room. Dimitri was hoping to stitch some flowers for Mercedes, using those as a reference. The red he'd gotten was too dark, and he'd bought some orange thread instead of yellow, but…well…Dimitri may as well use what he had, right?

Dedue made a low rumbling noise, and Dimitri jolted. Was it a sound of acknowledgement? Was Dedue awake?

…Dimitri had gotten his hopes up for nothing; Dedue merely rolled over, eyes closed as tightly as ever. It had probably just been a snore. Dimitri sighed, picked up another needle, and attempted to thread it. At least it meant Dedue was still breathing, and he should be grateful for that.

The waiting was awful, though, and Dimitri could only hope Dedue didn't get worse.


"Um, are you sure about this, Your Majesty? You know I'm not as good at this as Mercie is…"

"All I can ask is that you try, Annette. Please…"

She nodded, leaning up on her tiptoes to reach Dedue's arm. Even with the help of a chair, Annette could just barely reach the wound. Then, Annette closed her eyes, screwed up her face in concentration, and summoned as much healing magic as she could.

Mercedes normally tended to Dedue's injuries, but Dimitri wanted to let her take a break. That was one thing he could easily do for her. The sewing had made a little progress over the past day or two, but Dimitri already felt guilty about how often Mercedes checked in on him. And since Annette had visited Gilbert today—who'd spent most of the past few weeks recruiting and training as many new soldiers as he could—Dimitri figured he could have her try this time instead.

Finally, Annette gasped and opened her eyes. Again, the gash was smaller than it had been, but it hadn't vanished completely. Annette frowned as she looked it over.

"See? I don't think I got it all the way," she groaned. "I mean, it's kind of hard to tell, but…"

It was true; the dark reddish lines were hard to distinguish from Dedue's mottled skin, now that they'd had a couple of days to air out and dry slightly. Still, Dimitri was certain that it was smaller. The edges shrank more and more each time they'd been healed, and they were much shorter than they'd been initially.

Still, the fact that they weren't gone entirely was frustrating. What did it mean? Did they just have to keep trying, or was it a sign they wouldn't heal at all?

"No, you did fine, Annette; I promise." Dimitri smiled and shook his head. "It does look better than it did before."

"If you say so…"

Annette sighed, puffing out her cheeks in annoyance. Then, she frowned lightly, looking at Dedue for a few long seconds before glancing away awkwardly. Dimitri blinked.

"Is something the matter?"

"Not really," she replied uncertainly. "Well…kind of, I guess. Father still thinks this is a bad idea, you know? I told him I didn't wanna give up, either, but…"

Dimitri sighed as well. "I'm sure he does. Gustave has been against this from the start, even if he hasn't said anything to me about it in quite some time. But I do appreciate your concern."

Annette smiled hesitantly. "Well, thanks, I guess? I really hope he gets better, you know? I guess I can try again if you want, or…maybe we should wait until later?"

"No, don't worry about it. Mercedes has been trying off and on, but she's needed breaks, too." Dimitri shook his head. "I'll let you know if we need anything."

"All right, I guess I'll just wait, then. See you later?"

Annette waved, but her grin still looked forced as she left the room. Dimitri sighed again once she was gone, looking over at Dedue's prone form. Really, he was glad Dedue's wounds had healed this much, but…

There was a gnawing pit of dread in his stomach. What would happen if Dedue didn't get better?