Prologue

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Dimitri tossed his head impatiently. The executioner was due in hours, and his fellow inmates were supposed to be ready for their breakout by now.

Dedue sat patiently beside him, steady and stoic as always. Through the last few months, he had slowly watched his prince become more deranged and unhinged, but oddly enough his face never belied the fact.

A dog barked somewhere above the dungeons, and Dimitri simmered in the rage built up in his chest. A dog, running free in these streets? While the Prince sits in a cell, waiting to be martyred for the sake of a murderous new emperor?

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't just.

Just, just, just. The words echoed around Dimitri's brain, howled louder by his family. He was sure he could see them in the shadows, barely outlined but screaming in unrelenting woe.

He wanted to join them. If only then, maybe he wouldn't have to carry their burden. He may have failed, but at least they couldn't blame him for it.

He thought of Felix. The young swordsman, constantly overshadowed by his older brother, Glenn, who now sat near to Felix's nemesis, roaring his name in agony.

He thought of Ashe. The gentle soul who's only father figure was unjustly taken from him, all because of the wretch on the throne.

He thought of Sylvain. A valiant heart, though hard to see through; his older brother having despised him ever since he was born, for the same reasons Edelgard now ruled.

He thought of Dedue, who was silent and thoughtful, who was tortured beyond belief, who only wished to see his homeland again, untarnished by the scars of war and betrayal.

He thought of Mercedes, longing to forgo her battle training to be a priestess, wishing she never had a Crest at all.

He thought of Annette. Poor, distressed Annette, who wanted her father home to help protect her and her family. Who loved her friends, who couldn't bear to fight them on the battlefield or otherwise.

He thought of Ingrid. Ingrid, who had survived through the loss of her only friends, and who's only mission in life was to adhere to the wishes of her father, and to keep the House of Galatea from collapse.

He thought of Marianne. The sweet, tragic heart of hers that had been shunned and broken day by day, now wishing just for something worth staying for.

The world was falling to pieces, Dimitri knew. At least, his world was. It had been since that fateful day four years ago. Now Edelgard had upped the ante even more, and the entire continent was paying for it.

Dimitri felt a light tap on his shoulder and whipped around, half-expecting to see his father again. But it was Dedue, who subtly moved his head to indicate the face of another prisoner in the cell across. He gave Dimitri a thumbs-up.

It seems it was time.

Dimitri smiled grimly.

Justice would be served.

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