Chapter Text
He felt warmth despite the chill of the winter storm around him. His gauntlet clad hand placed over his spot of injury, Dimitri felt as if he were the punchline to a cruel joke. Having lived in the wastelands of what used to be the kingdom of faerghus, he nomadically traveled, searching for any that would stand between him and her . The mere thought of that woman made Dimitri grind his teeth, his hand clenching further into his stomach where an open wound slowly bled him out.
Perhaps he should be more wary of the wound, for it was still bleeding despite the pressure he’d applied to it. His stomach burned with a sensation akin to alcohol, but the intensity only grew and spread throughout his body. Poison.
Dimitri knew the sensation well. Thanks to his numerous exploits in pillaging imperial soldiers, many now knew of his strength, and were cowardly enough in their attempts to drop him to his knees with other alternatives. The cowards. They were lucky to have drawn their last breath before he’d realized what their blades had been dipped in.
It was so warm. Despite the cold wind numbing his face and body, a hot burn was spreading through his lower abdomen where his stomach was punctured, his body slowly growing more sluggish as he moved through the knee deep snow.
A flutter of confusion washed over Dimitri as his vision suddenly went white. A cool wetness began to seep into his armor, wetting his clothes. His fur cloak tickled his cheek. Only when the snow began to encase his body did Dimitri realize he was now laying horizontal in the snow.
You can’t stop here. Keep going.
Dimitri’s remaining eye flickered open, through the snow fallen sky, he attempted to stand up, but found that he couldn’t, his limbs no longer obeying him. The voices of his fallen family and comrades kept persisting in him to stand, for he could not dally in his pursuit of her. His headache, and so his eyelids fluttered shut, the cold snow chilling his weakened body, Dimitri at last succumbed to the snow.
--
The first sensation he regained was smell. Wood burned not too far from where he lay, the occasional crack echoing as the fire burned up the lumber. The smokey smell wafting through the air seemed to cling to his skin, absorbing itself in his thick fur coat he lay on top of. His body felt heavy, and uncompromising. But the burning sensation was no longer there. But why? He quickly found his answer when the buzzing in his ears tuned into someone humming to themselves as they cut something on a wooden board, the object making a slight watery sound as it was cut.
Dimtri’s fingers twitched each time the blade cut down, slicing into the fruit. Opening his eye, he found himself staring up at a wood slatted ceiling, the boards slowly rotting.
“Are you awake?” The humming had stopped, replaced by a Faerghun accent.
Dimiri didn’t respond, instead blinking lethargically as he processed the sound of soft footsteps approaching him.
A woman soon appeared in his field of vision, wearing a fur lined tunic, she peered down over Dimitri. He scowled up at her, his eyebrows knitting together. She ignored his hostile look, instead kneeling down beside him, one of her cool hands resting itself on his burning forehead while the other felt his pulse, counting his heartbeat. Dimitri would’ve stopped her were he able to lift his arms.
“How are you feeling?” She said, removing her hand from him.
Dimitri remained silent and watched her as a starving alley cat would a stranger.
Unperturbed by his silent treatment, the woman disappeared from his line of vision for a moment. He heard the sound of a liquid being poured before the woman appeared just as quickly as she left. Dimitri smelled a common stew made in Faerghus, usually consisting of salted meats and potatoes.
“I’ll bet you’re hungry, yes? You’ve vomited a lot, so we need to start getting some fluids back into your system. It may taste a little bitter, I mixed in some herbs that’ll boost the first dose of medicine I gave you and help you sleep.” She explained, shifting to kneel beside him.
Dimitri stared down at the bowl of soup in her hands. It looked simple enough, mostly composing a broth and a few small pieces of meat and potato chunks.
When was the last time he’d had a meal prepared for him like this? A dearly beloved friend came to mind but Dimitri banished him from his thoughts, his chest tightening.
His thoughts broke away as he felt a sturdy arm wrap around him from behind, lifting his frame enough to have him propped up. The woman situated him more, asking if he was comfortable before pulling his fur lined cloak higher up on his form.
Despite Dimitri not saying a word, the woman prattled on as she situated herself beside a reluctant Dimitri. Giving him a disapproving look when his lips remained firmly shut against the wooden spoon full of a salty broth, refusing the stew passage.
“If I wanted you dead, I would’ve left you bleeding out in that blizzard.” She said firmly, pushing the spoon towards him again.
Dimitri matched her glare with one of his own.
“I can feed myself.” He said at last, voice horse from disuse. Slowly he unwound his arms from the fur pelt and moved to grab the bowl from her. She made no attempts to stop him, instead patiently watching his trembling arms grab hold of the bowl, not moving her hands away until Dimitri securely held onto the meal. The heat escaping the bowl infused itself into the pads of his hands.
He lifted the bowl to his lips, the broth was warm, but as usual held no flavor strong enough for him to sense. The woman didn’t seem perturbed by his blatant attempt to ignore her and continued to talk to him as they ate. Informing him of her name, and the knowledge that she was an apothecary, on her way to Gideon when she’d almost tripped over his body in the snow.
“We’re lucky to have found shelter when we did. I don’t think I could’ve carried you any further to be honest.” She said with a smile. “Still, I guess we're lucky either way that you’re even awake. There were a lot of toxins in your body.”
Dimitri set his spoon down, bowl empty. “I can take that for you.” She said, reaching over to take it from him before attempting to help situate Dimitri under the cloak. Backing off when Dimitri pushed her hands away. She compromised by delicately helping him down onto what felt like a bundle of blankets folded in an attempt to be a pillow.
When Dimitri was once again situated, the woman turned to face him. She looked him over for a moment before smiling. “So what’s your name?”
Dimitri scowled and snarled before looking away from the woman.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just choose a name myself.” She called over his shoulder.
“Do as you please.”
He heard her sigh before the sound of clothes rustled as she stood up. “You should get some rest.”
Dimitri, too tired to argue, felt his heavy eyelids drop despite his protests, and soon there was nothing left to keep him company but darkness.
-
Even with your patient facing away from you, you were able to tell when he’d finally fallen asleep. His breath eventually mellowed out into smooth deep breaths, thanks to the sedative you’d put into his meal.
You let out an annoyed huff and frowned at him. You hadn’t known what you’d been expecting when you’d found his injured body face planted in the snow. You knew that times were rough for everyone, but the guy had to be desperate to risk traveling in such bad weather. Not like you were one to talk, having also been traveling in a blizzard. Although that's just because you’d been avoiding the imperial soldiers and bandits that frequented the main road, making your voyage much longer than anticipated.
Then again, considering the broken lance you’d found near him, perhaps it was a good thing you did avoid such populated roads. The man was large enough that few should pose a problem to him. You were honestly a little surprised that such a large and imposing man had been taken down. At least until you’d seen his wound. Poison had obviously been coating whatever weapon had skewered the poor man. But thankfully, what had once been a red pus filled wound was now neatly drained and cleaned. The wound sewed shut and covered in some gauze that you changed when bled through.
Since the Adrestian Empire had announced war on Fodlan three years prior, the Kingdom of Faerghus had fallen into disarray. (You supposed now it was a Dukedom, but everyone knew that it was Adrestia who controlled the capital, who controlled the imperial troops that patrolled captured lands.) It made the most courageous merchant fear even a walk to the next village in fear of stepping on the empire's toes. At best one may have all their food and money stolen, at worst...well the burnt and skewered bodys that littered the main roads were warning enough.
Even with a portion of the kingdom nobles fighting back, you didn’t have high hopes of them winning. In such a short period of time, the empire had taken over half of Faerghus. What good did fighting back provide? Only more bloodshed. Which in turn made Adrestia even more determined to conquer your homeland. No matter how the nobles fought back, they didn’t have the forces to break through the imperials unrelenting conquest. Or so most had thought until the beast came into picture.
It wasn’t uncommon for people to go missing in Faerghus. Shepherds were often lost in the woods, and bandits were common even before the war. Normally when missing bodies were found, the cause was attributed to wolves or other large carnivores. But since the war, the bodies that had been found were brutally beaten in a way that only a monster could do. Occasionally civilians were found dead, but people quickly found a pattern in the most grotesque corpses being Imperial soldiers. Or what was left of them.
The legend soon became known as the beast, tales of its carnage spun by bards who’d spoken to farmers claiming to have seen it. Clad in different pelts of fur, howling out the names of the fallen, it would stalk Imperial soldiers and kill them while they begged mercy. Despite the wonder surrounding the folktale, some villages had started enforcing a curfew, afraid the beast would come for them in it’s bloodlust.
Peering down at the man you were currently caring for, you were ashamed to admit that when you had first tripped over him, you’d felt frightened, the large fur cloak on his back resembling more of a large wolf than a man, and you’d believed yourself to run into the infamous creature.
Thinly slicing some roots you hummed to yourself while nestling close to the fire. Even with the door closed, and fire going, you could feel the frigid wind trying to creep into your shelter.
Hearing the man mumble to himself in his sleep, you looked over at him. Noting the pained look on his face. His matted hair clinging to his sweat caked face. Setting your knife down you wet a rag with cold water before resting it on the man's feverish forehead. Smoothing back his hair and pointedly avoiding the eyepatch.
When you’d initially found him, you had tried to take it off, but had been quickly blocked by the man in his dazed hysteria. Begging for names of people you didn’t know. You wondered what could terrify a man as imposing as him and found you didn’t want to know.
As if feeling your watchful gaze he twitched and let out a pained moan.
You chided yourself, reminding yourself this was your patient. A man, not an animal.
Laying another log on the fire, you secured the blanket around the man and pressed your back on the cold stone wall, listening to the howling wind outside.