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The blade of Dimitri’s lance swiped through another body with ease, blood spraying from his victim’s throat, painting the blade of his lance before their corpse crumpled to the ground in the newly fallen snow. And without hesitation, he moved on to the next, slashing with brutal, fierce movements as though he was a beast in a man’s body. It suited him though, after all, he was known as The Boar Prince.

Over and over again, sword and spear clashed together, igniting a sea of sparks as multiple men attempted to fell him but to no avail. Instinctively, he knocked one off-guard with a powerful blow from the butt of his lance, knocking him aside as Dimitri dodged the blow of yet another man’s blade. From there, death was dealt swiftly to a third member of their group, goring him through his middle, puncturing through even his scant armor. 

The second man took this as an opportunity to attempt to take out the lance-wielder, bringing his blade toward the noble with all of his ire and a yell, slashing through his side with a fierce slice, slotting the tempered steel through a weakness in his armor. 

Dimitri snarled in anguish, a fire burning in him even brighter as his blood began to trickle down his side and drip onto the trodden snow below. He didn’t allow the man to have a chance to bring his sword down upon him again for he was the one destined to be the victor here. He always was.

Ripping the spike of his weapon through the man that he had pierced before, he managed to block the man’s blade with the body of his lance before using his weight to shove the man back, reeling backward in the snow.

The man never got a chance to recover from that blow, even as he stepped back, preparing to take another hit from the feral, bloodsoaked prince. 

Dimitri ran at him, the sound of his boots crunching freshly powdered snow drowned out by the pounding in his ears and the cry of pure rage and hostility that tore from his throat. 

But rather than finding his lance tearing through the man, a carefully placed swing of his blade knocked Dimitri’s blow off-course as the thief nimbly dodged to the side. Thankfully, he wasn’t set off-course too far, able to block once again with his lance as the thief’s blade came down again, and as soon as it did, the man danced away in the snow, his lavender eyes steely and calculating, a sharp contrast to Dimitri’s glacier-blue, flinty stare.

What had once been the Boar Prince’s attempt to clear out thieves without business here had turned into a duel between two skilled warriors. Perhaps the man before him had been a knight before the war, not that it mattered to Dimitri.

This man was a rat and a thief trespassing in this sacred place and deserved to be eradicated with a higher purpose of making him stronger so that he could one day take on the Emperor herself — so he could one day take Edelgard’s life and gore her upon his blade to satisfy the echoes and screams of those who had met their end through her vile rule. And those that had met it before in Duscur. 

Neither one of them spoke as they eyed each other with malicious intent, trying to size up their opponent’s next move. And once more, without sound, they found themselves locked in combat once again, the thief’s sword clashing with the prince’s lance as he leapt aside and dodged blows with growing difficulty. Dimitri was beginning to anticipate his movements. 

So as the thief proceeded to knock Dimitri’s blade back and slip away once more, he was intercepted, the blade of the lance slashing the upper part of the thief’s left arm, making him hiss as he backed away, blood pooling up through the slice in the dark fabric, revealing the open wound.

“I suppose this makes puts us on even ground,” the thief remarked, not taking his eyes off his opponent or even stopping to nurse his wound. His voice came out slightly strained from the pain but also bore a hint of humor, as though the sword-wielding, lavender-haired man had found amusement in the lone noble striking him at all. 

But Dimitri could only scoff in disgust, his grip tightening on his lance as he took a new stance in the trodden snow. “Does that amuse you, rat, coming before the one that will rightfully deal your death to you?” 

Without missing a beat, the lavender thief replied. “Not in the slightest, but that could be because I wasn’t thinking of that. What has my attention is how you were able to land a hit on me at all.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to surprise you further when I take your head,” Dimitri growled, his single, animalistic eye focused on the man before him as he carefully made to flank him, his boots crunching in the snow as flakes clung to his cloak and hair.

The thief, however, did not move from his place, holding his ground.

“If it’s my head you want, then you’ll have to come much closer than that,” he taunted as he raised his blade, keeping his gaze locked on the feral prince.

Spurred on by his remark, Dimitri narrowed his gaze at the lavender thief. He wanted to charge and dismember the rat limb from limb but something kept him from it, occurring to him as he paused in his step, hearing the soft footfalls behind him. 

Realizing he was about to be attacked from both sides, Dimitri dashed to the side, swiftly turning as the thief that had been behind him fell forward, put off-balance after an attempt to stab the noble. He didn’t have a moment to rest after avoiding the potentially lethal blow or adjust his footing as the lavender thief dove in to take his turn, having taken the opening that his companion made for him to step into the fight.

The Boar Prince blocked the thief’s blow with the stock of his lance, pushing him back just in time for his partner to come back and take his own jab. But Dimitri was quicker, knocking the man’s sword out of his hand, disarming him as he smacked his arm with the butt of his tool, then with flair, he whirled the lance around to stab the man through the joint of his shoulder, forcing a horrendous scream from him.

Now all that was left was the lavender thief, who as before danced away from Dimitri after being unable to land a blow on him. He didn’t seem distraught over his comrade’s grievous injury as the man writhed, even as the former noble slowly twisted the stock of his spear, the blade of it opening the wound he had made even more. 

Whether the sadistic move was intentional or not was unclear, but what was clear is that Dimitri certainly meant to kill this man before moving on to the lavender thief once more. None of them should be permitted to escape alive after all. 

Dimitri withdrew the blade of his lance but before he could land the killing blow he wanted, the lavender thief engaged him once more, sending an uppercut that slashed through the plating of his armored forearm as a soft green glow emanated from within him, revealing the mark of a Crest that had the effect of somehow freezing the prince in place. Then, without pause, the man sent a second slash tearing through his shoulder, ripping through the flesh concealed beneath the fur that he had been wearing to shield himself from the cold bite of winter. It did nothing now to save him from the sting of the lavender thief’s blade.

But Dimitri was far from finished.

Though the fur hadn’t helped much, the light armor he wore beneath it absorbed some of the blow and kept the tempered steel from sinking too deep into his flesh. He didn’t have much to live for aside from revenge, yet for a moment, he was grateful that he was still standing rather than succumbing to a similar fate as his beloved family and closest friends, leaving him still capable to do what needed to be done.

Right after he killed this thief of course and painted the snow with crimson to match that of the blood the other man had drawn from him.

As expected, the lavender thief had skipped away after the brutal blow was dealt and watched carefully as Dimitri positioned himself to attack once more. He had successfully given his comrade an opening to flee since they were quite obviously useless in this battle, their stumbling footfalls getting further and further away. 

The lance-wielder mentally noted that he’d have to track him down later and finish the job.

“Well would you look at that,” the lavender thief commented, not daring to pull his eyes from the bloodied noble. “You’re still standing. I suppose I better compliment you for that, though for a guy that said he’ll have my head, you’re not doing a very good job at keeping yourself fully intact.” 

If Dimitri had more strength left in his arm, he would have held his lance in a white-knuckled grasp. This man had him on-edge and he was losing, but it was far more interesting fighting him than any of the other thieving rats he had crossed blades with before or any of the Imperial dogs under Edelgard’s command to boot, at least since his daring escape from his imprisonment. Though he didn’t want to think about the latter too hard, it stirred the phantoms that slumbered in the back of his mind, reminding him of the day that he had finally lost everything he held dear.

He stamped down on the memories and leveled his stony gaze and attention back on the lavender thief. He was going to kill him just as surely as he was going to one day put an end to the Emperor, even if he had to push himself into an early grave because of it. 

But that grave would not be here in the courtyard of a ruined Garreg Mach, surrounded by splatters of red-stained snow as flakes adhered to the corpses that he had strewn across the ground. He wouldn’t die here just so he could rot among the rats. He would survive and carry out his plans of vengeance rather than fall here in what could be considered a graveyard at this point. 

So without any further consideration, Dimitri rushed his opponent once more with an outraged cry as fierce and sharp as a wyvern’s call. 

Immediately, the lavender thief’s blade resounded with a clang and a flash of sparks against the stock of The Boar Prince’s lance, yet before he could retreat like so many times before, the noble readjusted his stance and his weapon, pushing hard with his non-dominant side and sending the thief’s blade sliding down the stock, deflecting it away. 

Hastily, the thief withdrew his blade and backed away, kicking up trodden snow as Dimitri stabbed forward once, twice, and then thrice, forcing him back further and further. 

Eventually, the man sidestepped and attempted to slash his blade to send Dimitri back. This wasn’t looking good for him. Despite the prince’s wounds, he was still a formidable opponent in battle and forced the thief to stay on guard. 

Their blades clashed together once more as Dimitri made to stab the tip of his lance through the thief to spill his guts but with growing difficulty on both of their parts, the man dodged or parried every time. Until growing tired of the game, Dimitri swung his lance to take advantage of both his blade and the butt of his lance. 

Remarkably, it caught the lavender thief off-guard long enough as he parried for Dimitri to get in close enough to smash his skull against the shorter man’s, knocking him back and dazing him temporarily. Now, it was the noble’s turn to take advantage of the situation. 

As the lavender thief attempted to get his bearings once more, The Boar Prince’s single, glacial eye locked onto him and he thrust the blade of his weapon into him.

Lucky for him, he managed to dart away just in time to avoid a deadly blow. However, he did not get away unscathed, crying out as the tip of his opponent’s lance scraped between two of his ribs, slicing through his side as he slipped away, stumbling slightly as he hastily put space between the two of them.

Dark blood began to stain the silvery-gray of the lavender thief’s tunic, which he soon plastered his hand over in an attempt to staunch the bleeding as it steadily trickled between his fingers.

Dimitri huffed in a derisive yet prideful manner, smirking at the thief. He had obviously hit something vital or at least sliced it and now he may just yet put this scum in his place and rise victorious. However, it was becoming clear that both he and the thief were weakening from their fairly violent warfare. 

Both participants were breathing hard, their breath misting in front of them in the frosty air. Snowflakes continued to accumulate on the stamped, blood-soaked blanket that covered the ground, painted with the efforts of their battle. And in the middle of it all, the two men stood there, never pulling their gaze away from the other.

They must have looked like beasts at that moment, splashed with red from stabbing and slashing at the other and from their own wounds. The pair were formidable fighters of their own weapon, masters even, but even with their own respective surplus of skill, it was unlikely that either of them would walk away from this duel alive now that they were both sporting grievous injuries. 

The Boar began to realize this as he watched his opponent, growing dazed and faltering slightly, having to correct his stance to catch himself from falling. 

The thief did not miss this movement.

“You still haven’t taken my head,” the lavender thief pointed out, his voice strained far more than before, then after a pause to swallow and take a breath to steady himself, he continued. “But you did land a pretty good hit on me it seems. Well done, you.” 

Dimitri’s upper lip curled back into a snarl. “You would mock me in your state? A rat on the brink of death?”

“I meant it as a compliment but if you’d rather see it as a jeer... then I won’t correct you.” 

"Then I'll make you eat your words as you taste the end of my lance once more!" Dimitri assured him, his tone matching the malice in his eyes and as he raced forward to slice into the thief's flesh once more, in an attempt to quickly disembowel and dispatch him at last, their blades came together and sang once more. 

In an instant, Dimitri’s lance glanced off of the thief’s blade as the man quickly sprung to defend himself, lashing out with an underhanded slice to the Boar’s calf before falling back once more. It appeared that the opening in his guard during their momentary banter was but a feigned slight, designed to lure him in. He should have known better than to charge headlong into battle at such a taunt, but his unquelled bloodlust had brought out the beast in him, a creature that could not, nor would it, see reason. 

The prince stumbled as he regained his footing, catching himself in a slick puddle of blood carved into disturbed snow. His prey was not long for this world if he continued to bleed out from the wound Dimitri had given him. That was comforting, in a morbid way, and yet infuriating all the same. He was to be the victor of this fight, not because of a fluke that his opponent died before he could end them, but through his own strength and skill. How would he defeat that woman if he couldn’t even manage to kill a measly rat with a blade? 

Gritting his teeth, Dimtri tightened the loosening grip on his lance, adjusting to account for his injured arm as he turned to face his opponent once more, his gloved hands sticking to the bloodied shaft. His single eye held the man’s pained expression for a moment before scrutinizing him, his gaze drawn to the darkness blossoming from his side, filling the frigid air with the thick stench of blood that clung to every breath. 

That was his weakest point. If he could land a blow to his injured side, he could finish this with ease. 

With renewed vigor, he took up his stance to enter back into the fray, lance and sword meeting yet again, clanging together as the men danced around each other. Both their movements had slowed significantly throughout the course of their fight, but still, the pair remained on even ground. 

The thief parried Dimitri’s thrusts forward, his pale eyes focused on both the Boar and his weapon with masterful poise. His movements had slowed since they had begun and yet he was still fending for himself in battle quite easily. Dimitri had to put an end to this now. 

When the pair broke apart this time, Dimitri adjusted his pose, settling the shaft of his lance into the crook of his arm, taking an underhanded grasp in an attempt to account for his wounded arm, maintaining a standard grip with his unimpaired left. Afterward, he hunched over slightly to hopefully conceal his intentions, though conveniently, his opponent chose that moment to ridicule him once again. 

“You know,” the thief mused aloud, “if you want to have someone eat their words, maybe you should consider sticking to yours. I haven’t seen you land a single hit on me in a while.” 

To punctuate his unflattering comment, he even had the audacity to ‘tsk’ at him. It was obviously an attempt to rile him up, though the prodding was unnecessary. Dimitri was already incensed by the man. 

“Why don’t you just shut up?!” 

Once more, Dimitri rushed in, but this time, as his opponent moved their blade to harmlessly shove the tip of his lance away, he released his grip on his spear, keeping it at his side only through the leverage of his crooked arm. And then, with his free hand, he went for his opponent’s wound, clawing desperately at it, drawing a tortured cry from the man with a fresh spurt of blood that painted the Boar’s glove. 

It took a moment for the thief to regain their senses, but once they had, they knocked the lance out of Dimitri’s grip with a fierce swing, disarming him whilst he clawed at the bloodied hand pressed into his wound. This did not bother Dimitri in the slightest, as the rat was severely weakened, rendering his struggle as pointless. Just as well, disarming him had simply freed his other hand to grasp the smaller man's slender wrist in a crushing grasp, preventing him, despite his struggling from wielding his blade against him. 

At last, it finally seemed as though Dimitri had finally found his footing in this fight, taking the upper hand and rendering the thief useless. He was confident that he could finish him off easily now. All he had to do was place his hand around his pale throat and squeeze the remainder of his pathetic life out of his body. The rat wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight now.

But as he thought that, it became highly apparent that the rat in question had other ideas. 

His right hand had been unattended while clutching uselessly at Dimitri’s wrist, tacky with his own steadily flowing blood, but as his desperation kicked in and his life began to slip away, the man rose his hand, brilliant light clinging to it. 

Dimitri clenched his jaw in recognition. There was no time to dispatch the thief now or to retreat from the spell that his prey cast now. He’d have to take the full brunt of it. 

Not less than a moment later, his body became enshrouded by the same light that illuminated the thief. He could feel the spell wrenching life from his body, squeezing it out, draining blood from his veins, air from his lungs, and sapping his energy. 

It had hurt, but in this hellish life of his, Dimitri was more than used to pain, in fact, he had grown numb to it. However, that didn’t keep his legs from collapsing out from under him as the muscles in his wounded leg turned to jelly. His grip on the thief’s arm faltered as well, the strength that he had left stolen away by his opponent as the aforementioned criminal stumbled out of range and pointed the tip of his blade down at him, his off-hand covering the wound in his side. 

“Looks to me like you forgot who you’re dealing with, friend,” the thief managed in a strained voice. He stood precariously, his lips and skin nearly as pale as the icy world around them, yet somehow managing to hold his rapier steady.

Dimitri scowled up at him, his single, crystalline eye hard and frosty as he faced the victor, glaring daggers up at him. “Don’t insult me any further, rat. Finish it,” the Boar demanded, his teeth grit and his voice a harsh snarl.

The thief let out a huff that could have been considered a bark of laughter had he the strength to do so. He was quiet for a few moments this time before replying, for the first time lacking a spitfire response. 

“And why would I do that?”

The former prince didn’t say a word, confident that he knew what this man truly was: an agent of that woman and that sniveling vassal of hers. He had fought well, but even still, he was no match for the whims of monsters of greater power than himself. 

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now, Your Highness,” the thief continued, saying Dimitri’s former title with what sounded like a sneer. “Congratulations on your prison escape. I thought for sure that I’d have to be the bearer of bad news.”

The Boar scoffed, his glare unwavering. “Hurry up, rat. The Eternal Flames await me.” 

“Then they’ll have to wait for a little longer then, won’t they?” 

This man chose to be aggravating to the end, trying Dimitri’s patience, or rather lack thereof. The battle had come to an end and amidst the snow, bested by one of Edelgard’s assassins, well he supposed that this could be a fitting enough end for a monster such as he. And as he grew to accept his defeat, he could hear frantic crunching in the snow, the footfalls of the rat’s reinforcements. 

“Yuri!” A woman cried a short distance behind him, but Dimitri’s attention did not shift. 

The thief didn’t remove his stare from Dimitri either. 

“Seems like that’s all the time we have for today,” he stated with a decidedly wry chuckle. “It’s been fun.”

Dimitri get to see much more as he heard a man’s grunt behind him as pain exploded in the back of his skull. The last thing he remembered was crumpling into the snow as the world grew dark and footfalls filled the clearing.