It's a novel feeling. Dimitri's still used to a world where his business is everyone's business, where his position and the gory details of his trauma are public knowledge. He's begun to regret how forward he was with others, before he'd fully understood that he wasn't repeating the details of what they'd already known. Erin doesn't have to know.
Erin -- Liz Malloy would have served the viscount, if he'd bought her. Might have put Dedue's siblings, his parents, to the sword herself. Might have been the mercenary whose spine Dimitri ripped out through her stomach, and the thought makes his blood burn, floods his nose and throat with smoke and the reek of congealed iron. Dimitri can't resolve that with Erin Peters, who's been so gentle, who understands as so few do the weight of a sword in blood.
-- no. No, he can. The road from Liz Malloy to Erin Peters, who buried her in her garden -- Dimitri can see that broken, thorny path.
It's why he wants her to know.
He hauls himself up, props his elbows on the table and folds his arms. "Dedue told you we served together in the name of the prince of Faerghus," he says quietly. "That's not entirely the truth. That name is mine. I am the prince of Faerghus. And it was against my will, but in my name, that the country of Duscur was razed."
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It's a novel feeling. Dimitri's still used to a world where his business is everyone's business, where his position and the gory details of his trauma are public knowledge. He's begun to regret how forward he was with others, before he'd fully understood that he wasn't repeating the details of what they'd already known. Erin doesn't have to know.
Erin -- Liz Malloy would have served the viscount, if he'd bought her. Might have put Dedue's siblings, his parents, to the sword herself. Might have been the mercenary whose spine Dimitri ripped out through her stomach, and the thought makes his blood burn, floods his nose and throat with smoke and the reek of congealed iron. Dimitri can't resolve that with Erin Peters, who's been so gentle, who understands as so few do the weight of a sword in blood.
-- no. No, he can. The road from Liz Malloy to Erin Peters, who buried her in her garden -- Dimitri can see that broken, thorny path.
It's why he wants her to know.
He hauls himself up, props his elbows on the table and folds his arms. "Dedue told you we served together in the name of the prince of Faerghus," he says quietly. "That's not entirely the truth. That name is mine. I am the prince of Faerghus. And it was against my will, but in my name, that the country of Duscur was razed."