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How had he gotten here? It was a question Dimitri asked himself as he took in the corpse resting on the floor of the goddess tower.
The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, nearly thick enough to taste, nearly thick enough to choke upon. It was an aroma that had grown increasingly familiar to him over the last five years. It may have begun with that day nine years ago with the inescapable fragrance of burning flesh, but since then the reek of death had wholly permeated his life.
Dimitri was no stranger to death and its remnants. And even perfectly preserved, he certainly recognized a corpse.
Yes, he knew what this was, he recognized this corpse. But that didn’t mean it made sense.
He had been making his way towards Garreg Mach, driven by the foolish hope of a promise made five years ago, when he saw it--a flash of viridian in the river. It was a shade that he would never forget, a pigment that saturated his nightmares.
He plunged into the icy water, caring not for its bite as he pulled the body from the water. Her body, looking just as she had before she had disappeared.
It was more foolishness that drove him to the goddess tower, praying as he cleansed it of the Imperial filth that occupied it that wishes could be granted. That her chest would rise and fall once more.
He crouched down over her, pressing his lips gently against hers. How long had he dreamed of doing just that? Every day since he’d met her. But in his dreams, her lips were warm, parting against his own as her breath caught, not like the cold kiss he’d just had against death’s own lips.
He sat back and stared at the motionless figure lying on the stone. There was no breath, no heartbeat, no matter how she still made his own race. But there were footsteps, echoing through the silence as they made their way up the steps.
And there she was.
“I should have known… that one day… you would be haunting me as well.” The mixture of grief and elation in his voice transformed it into something that reverberated oddly against the stones.
Her ghost stopped before him, bending down and offering a hand to him.
What cruelty. A hand he could never take hold of.
She took a step backward, stepping over her remains as she followed his gaze down to her carcass.
A kiss, Dimitri? It was her voice, just as he remembered it. Something more?
He was paralyzed at the implication in her words. Paralyzed with shame, paralyzed with something more.
She knelt down and dropped her hand, tracing a finger delicately down her own cadaver, lingering on places he’d dreamed of touching, on places he’d dreamed of doing far more than just touching.
What you desire is so fleeting. Her gaze fixed on where his longing was concentrating in his groin, pulsing with need.
What I offer is far more lasting. What I offer is eternal. A true granting of the wish you once made here.
A wish he’d foolishly uttered once under the moonlight, the wish that had driven him back to this place. To be together, forever. He could hear his heart thundering, layering with her voice. A wish that he harbored even now, even as the beast he had become, even staring at her corpse.
Eat me. A whisper in his ear.
She was right. Joining with her flesh was temporary, a mere moment of being with her. Imbibing her flesh was forever. He could be her mausoleum, his bones could be her crypt.
The hungry had become the hungered after. But the truth was that he’d always been yearning for her.
And yet, what she was suggesting was perhaps the greatest sin of all. One that Dimitri, even stained as he was, had never considered. Not even in the depths of his starvation had he even thought to sink so low.
He’d eaten a great many things to survive--weeds and rats and carrion. But while his lack of palate had helped him stomach the scraps he found, it wouldn’t be enough to cover up the rot suffusing each Imperial soldier he killed, it wouldn’t stop their putrid flesh from making him sick.
Why do you hesitate?
He cast his gaze to the stone floor, unable to meet her eyes. He was hesitating, sickening himself as he wrestled with his thoughts.
He knew she would be free of any festering. Perhaps it was sacrilege to partake of her flesh when he couldn’t even savor its flavor. Or perhaps it was devotion. A true act of love without his other senses clouding his desires.
Look at me, Dimitri.
He turned back at her insistence, forcing himself to raise his eye and face her unrelenting stare, but her spectre was gone.
No, look at me.
His gaze fell back to the corpse. But that wasn’t the source of the possession. It may have been enough to finally conjure her ghost, but the thought of her had been haunting him since he’d first laid eyes on her, long before she’d died.
This is my body, she said, finally stating the ugly truth aloud. I’m giving it to you. Take me and eat.
And all at once he understood. This was something that he could do for her. Something that only he could do for her, monstrous as he was. Only he was capable of this fierce of devotion.
It was enough to convince him to take the first bite. Sinews and muscle tearing as the flesh was pulled free and into his waiting mouth. A tasteless morsel, but the idea that it was her on his tongue was nothing short of divine.
It was divine, and he would worship her as he committed the atrocious act.
Bite. Pray.
Eat me.
Chew. Pray.
Eat Me.
Swallow. Pray.
EAT ME.
Repeat.
Eat me, Dimitri! Polish my bones! Her voice was nearing ecstasy.
He was nearing his own at the sound of it as he forcefully gulped down mouthful after mouthful, even as his pace slowed.
It took him a while to understand what the feeling was, for it had become so foreign to him, and he was so entrenched in the rhythm. But as he strained to take each bite, fighting to honor an increasingly urgent chorus of eat me, he realized what it was.
Full. He was full.
But he could not falter now, could not fail her now.
He licked his lips--a shame to let a drop of her go to waste, even if he could not taste--and reached for the Sword of the Creator, a Relic recovered with her remains. Using the very tip of the blade, he made a delicate incision down her abdomen, splitting open her body cavity to reveal the banquet of textures held within; a veritable feast of viscera.
But as he desperately searched for the organ he most desired, laughter reverberated against the stone walls of the Goddess Tower. He didn’t know whether it was his own or not.
It had to be a sick, twisted joke. The heart that he was searching for, the heart that he had always wanted to sink his teeth into, close his jaws around and not let go, was nowhere to be found.
In its place was a stone, flesh colored, nearly writhing in place. And unmistakable upon its visage was the Crest of Flames. Oh, he knew well what it was, just as he’d recognized when it was laid within the Lance of Ruin and just as he’d recognized when it was laid within his father’s lance, Areadbhar--it was a Crest Stone.
She did not carry the Crest of Flames, she was the Crest of Flames.
He did not know what drove him to do it, whether it was memory or the faint beating he could feel between himself and the weapon. All he knew was the feeling of him reaching into her innards, the feeling of him ripping that stone free from the coelom.
He did not know what drove him to place it into the empty space in the handle of the Sword of the Creator, whether it was memory or the faint palpitation he could feel between himself and the weapon. All he knew was the feeling as he slotted it into place, as if it was back where it belonged--at his side.
He cradled the hilt of the blade, pulsing faintly--alive--to his lips as he finally said the words aloud. “Byleth. I love you.”
What better way to prove his love than to ingest, to digest, to show that he could truly stomach all of her.
Together forever. All he had to do was keep her down, eat her all the way to her beloved bones.