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Dimivain Week: Day 3 - roleswap
Dimitri wakes up again maybe half an hour after he's gone to sleep, when his dreams give him blood that seems just a little too bright and red.
In his chest, his heart beats far too loudly. He needs quiet. He needs enough quiet to just listen to the wind shifting through the trees outside, the wingbeats of birds of prey and bats, to any potential footsteps that could be approaching him with ill intent in order to...
Dimitri takes a breath, tries to settle the way the air rattles through his lungs. Up against his shoulder, he can feel Sylvain's body, and they are easily close enough that he can hear the way his friend breathes slow and deep. Normally, he would get up during moments like this. There is too much adrenaline coursing through his body from such terrible and miserable dreams - dreams that are more nightmarish recollections of the past. Best to work all of that out with a late night training session. So long as he's quiet enough, and avoids any of the people that are still awake roaming the halls... He can get back without bothering the staff of Garreg Mach, both in its church and its military academy.
Yet he's sure that if he gets up now, then surely Sylvain will wake. He'll think that Dimitri is trying to run away from him in the middle of the night, or he'll have questions on what he's up so early. Somehow, it feels as though the former option would be by far the worst one of the two...
Either way, there's no helping it. Dimitri smooths his hands out along the sheets, or at least tries to. There's only so much room on the bed with the two of them sharing it. In the end, he settles them awkwardly against his pajamas instead, and lets out a breath. There's no way he's going to be able to get to sleep like this, but it can't be helped. This wouldn't be the first time that he's had to fake how well he's slept over the course of a night. He'll just have to do so again, and see if perhaps, come morning or afternoon, he can manage a nap to help a little more.
Of course, that means he's trapped here, laying in the dark, right next to Sylvain's own slumbering body. Possibly it'd be hard for him to get back to sleep this way regardless. Sighing, Dimitri reaches up, slips his hand up from beneath the covers so that he can rub at his face. He knows he was the one to suggest all of this, since he had to go to Sylvain in the first place for help, but... Well. This was a side effect that he supposes he couldn't have foreseen.
"Mitya?" a sleepy voice slurs out besides him, and Dimitri freezes only a moment before he lowers his hand. It's hard to see much in the room, this late at night. The window is a tiny thing, more so that there's just a sign of morning light to help wake up sleepy students. While moonlight would normally help such things, clouds pass it by regularly - or at least that would be Dimitri's guess - and it's hard to use the light to its full effect. He has to squint when he turns his head, struggling to make out Sylvain's face in the gloom.
"Did I bump into you and wake you?" he asks, apologetic. "I'm sorry. I was hoping to be subtle."
Sylvain snorts, only for the hard sound to soften into a long yawn. "Mmm... You shift a little bit too much to be subtle." Whereupon Sylvain wiggles in bed himself, tugging a little more blankets around himself. At least, combined with both of their blankets together, he's not lacking for choice. "The jab to my rib definitely woke me up. What, gotta go use the bathroom? Just pretend I never woke up, then. Wouldn't want to embarrass you."
Well that is one way to get his mind off of his nightmares, and the grind of metal he can hear just faintly. Dimitri sputters. "Sylvain, please." Scoffing, he wiggles in place as well. There's no point in pretending to be asleep now. "I just woke up in the middle of the night, that's all. I cannot get back to sleep."
That isn't an untruth. He really did wake up, and he is having trouble getting back to sleep. Sylvain just doesn't have to know that he woke up from a nightmare, that he's positive he'll start hearing the impatient whispers of his father in his ear as he berates him for his failure in bringing justice to all of them. It's a burden that no one else deserves to bear. It's just him. That is what it means to be crown prince sometimes, he thinks.
At least Sylvain doesn't probe any further. He just hums a little bit, and Dimitri thinks he turns his head just enough to glance over at him in the dark room. The clouds still haven't let the moon free of their prison. "If that's the case... Want to waste a little while talking?"
"Sylvain, if I do that, then I will just keep you up as well... We will both be in a sorry state come morning if that's the case. I am certain that if I wait long enough, I will fall back asleep." Maybe. It's not impossible, is it?
For all his worrying, Sylvain just laughs at him. "Wow, an excuse to sleep through our morning classes?" he teases. "I don't see the downsides at all! But, to be more serious... Listen, you don't have to worry about it so much. Talking helps people fall asleep a little easier, especially depending on the topic. That sort of thing takes up energy, you know. Before you know it, after all that boring talk about what classes we have in the morning, or Manuela's latest dating disaster... You'll be out like a light."
Dimitri isn't entirely sure if he has any interest in Manuela's dating life, honestly, because it just feels awkward to talk about someone else's intimate details in that manner, but, well... He can't deny that Sylvain does have a point. Talking, and listening as well, are both things that take a good deal of energy. Maybe he doesn't have to wear himself down to the bone out in the training yard...
"All right," he says after a moment's thought. "Then I suppose... that is not a bad idea at all." Sylvain really is a lot more clever than people think, and this is just one more example of that. "Although I'd rather not talk about Manuela's dating life, thank you kindly."
Sylvain snorts out a laugh, elbow bumping against Dimitri's. "Right, right. I guess that wouldn't be your preferred kind of topic, then. That's fine. In that case... Go on, why don't I let you choose? You're the one that I'm helping out with this, so you should be the one to decide what we're going to put you to sleep with. Come up with a conversation topic, any kind."
That seems like he's rather being put on the spot. Still, Dimitri supposes it makes sense. It's just, what should he talk about? It's hard to think of anything else besides the nightmare still nipping at his heels, or Sylvain's warm body right next to his own.
Somehow, with his mind turning over and over, he eventually decides on something that leaves his mouth before he has a chance to stop it. "Have you ever thought... what it would be like if you were born crown prince instead?" The second he says it, of course, is the second that Dimitri realizes what a stupid topic that is to bring up. What kind of question even is that? It's certainly not the kind of mundane dribble that Sylvain had suggested. It's the kind of thing that makes a brain work harder, makes it harder to get to sleep.
"Huh," Sylvain says, that single syllable rounded out as though it's tucked into his cheek. "I mean, not before now, anyway." A low chuckle, before Dimitri can tell him to stop, tell him this is a stupid topic for him to choose. "Man, can you imagine how many things I could get away with, then?"
Honestly. "Leave it to you to think of a way to use such a position completely to your advantage," Dimitri states dryly.
"I'm just saying!" Dimitri can hear his smile even in the dark, before there's a lower and more thoughtful hum. "...If I were crown prince, does that mean I'd be Lambert's son, or the Gautier's would be the royal family? Whichever one it is... That changes things a lot. For a royal family of Gautiers..." He trails off. "...It's better that the Blaiddyds handled it all. Or, maybe I can only say that I'm glad that Lambert was the one who was before you, and that you're the one who'll be after him."
Dimitri understands what he means. There is a great deal of their history that he knows is praised greatly, their little independent kingdom that broke away from the great Adrestian Empire. And yet... He is not oblivious. How could anyone remain as such after watching the bloody battle that became the kingdom's Tragedy? How could they upon seeing the true villains, and yet an innocent country full of innocent people was torn apart like a lamb to wolves? Seeing all that... has made it impossible for him to see anything else, when he's looked at the things they've done.
Was his father the same? Dimitri can't be entirely certain. At the time of his life, his father still carefully held so many things close to his chest, so that he wouldn't burden him completely. And yet... Perhaps there had been some regret, some eagerness for peace, that had only come to him as an older man instead of the youth whose exploits people so praised.
If only he could ask him properly... And yet whenever Dimitri has tried, the ghost that haunts his every footsteps either answers not at all, or berates him for caring about such trivial matters when there is still someone with bloodied hands out there.
"But, you know, it wouldn't be a bad thing to have gotten to know your father when he was alive," Sylvain muses, still going on while Dimitri's thoughts churn about in his skull. "He and Rodrigue were always good to use kids, weren't they? They were always making sure that Ingrid didn't feel too left out when we were younger, and they let me stay over in Fhirdiad or Fraldarius for ages at a time..."
Somehow, the way that Sylvain includes that... "It was to help your education, wasn't it?" Dimitri asks. "To give you an idea of how to interact properly in noble society, or to gain familiarity with the kind of land that you would be battling in and defending."
Sylvain laughs, and something about it doesn't sound right. Dimitri can't pinpoint exactly what it is. "Yeah... They really helped me out," he says simply. "Although... What about you, Mitya?"
"What do you mean?"
"You asked me how it would be if I were a crown prince. Have you ever thought about what you'd be like, or do, if you were anything besides the royal heir? If you were a kid like Ashe, or went to magic school, or... were the son of a margrave, like me."
It's not a question that Dimitri was expecting, but he supposes that it's only fair to ask of him. If Sylvain were in his place, then, naturally, he would be in Sylvain's place. "I wonder," he says, closing his eyes again as he thinks on it all. If he were in Sylvain's place, with Miklan as a brother... It's hard for him to say. "I wonder if... No, nevermind. I would have said something rude. Rather, perhaps I would have done well, without having to worry about so much as a crown prince... But then I think that can't be right at all."
"Really? Sounds pretty simple and clear cut to me. A margrave is just a gussied up military general. All you'd really have to do is defend the border against Sreng, right? Hardly a big deal at all, compared to everything else that happens in the royal court."
"Perhaps that is a margrave's primary purpose. I am not the son of a margrave, so I would not presume myself to know more than you on that matter." It would only make him look foolish, to speak so completely over someone else's lived experiences. "Yet... I feel that such a task cannot be the only duty of a margrave. I want to believe that, in some ways. Run by a general or not, Gautier is still a territory in its own right... You must have so many other things to consider. How could I compete with that.." Is he making sense? It doesn't feel as though he's making sense any more. "And in the future... Who knows what could happen."
Sylvain's tongue makes a click in the darkness. "Jeez, Mitya... You always think way too heavily about these sort of questions," he murmurs, an undeniable fondness in his tone. A silver light starts to gently creep across the floor of his room, and Dimitri can see Sylvain's face for the first time since they first laid down to bed together. It's a complicated expression there - bittersweet, in ways, and yet so fond that it could kill him.
"It is you," Dimitri says simply. "Even if we had not become partners in crime over that foolish little bet with Lorenz, you are dear to me, Sylvain. How could I not....?" It is getting hard to choose his words properly, he thinks. The metal scraping, the voices he was so certain would come... They're all drowned out by his conversation.
For a moment, Sylvain doesn't say anything. He just stares at him with that deep look in his eyes, so close and yet somehow so far. Farther than even most of the people Dimitri is surrounded by, where he feels as though there is an invisible moat keeping them separate. Even at odds. Did Sylvain always seem this way? Dimitri suspects... that maybe this opposing feeling, this distant closeness, has been in place longer than he's ever realized.
"Your heart is definitely way too soft," he says quietly. Somehow, that gentle tone of his is more soothing than the trickling of a river. "You don't need to worry about a guy like me. You know that, right?"
On that, he won't agree at all. "I want to worry about you," Dimitri says, trying to keep his voice clear and crisp. It feels rather hard to accomplish such a simple task. "My feelings for you, whatever they may be, are nothing so shallow, Sylvain. I am being honest. I care about you."
"I don't doubt that, at least." Sylvain sighs, and the moonlight is covered up once again. It is only with the faintest remnants that Dimitri can see Sylvain's smile shift into something more like the one he sees almost every day. That simple, relaxed smile is the last thing he sees before the room falls into darkness once more. "You know, when I think back on it... Well, let's not worry about it too much. What thing did you think was too rude of you to say?"
It is truly a terrible thing to say. A rude, bastard-like thing to say. Dimitri knows this. So why is it that, even as his eyes sink shut, his traitorous mouth mumbles out the answer? "I am an only child, by all rights. If I think of dealing with Miklan at that age... I don't know how to deal with it. It makes me glad... that I still had you, when we were all young..."
If he were kicked out of bed... Dimitri would not blame Sylvain for it. Kicked out of the room, event.
Yet he isn't kicked out at all. Instead, as sleep takes him away once again, smoother and more gentle than he would have thought, he feels a gentle hand along his arm. "Then I guess I wasn't such a failure after all," he thinks he hears Sylvain says, before it all goes quiet and dark.
In his chest, his heart beats far too loudly. He needs quiet. He needs enough quiet to just listen to the wind shifting through the trees outside, the wingbeats of birds of prey and bats, to any potential footsteps that could be approaching him with ill intent in order to...
Dimitri takes a breath, tries to settle the way the air rattles through his lungs. Up against his shoulder, he can feel Sylvain's body, and they are easily close enough that he can hear the way his friend breathes slow and deep. Normally, he would get up during moments like this. There is too much adrenaline coursing through his body from such terrible and miserable dreams - dreams that are more nightmarish recollections of the past. Best to work all of that out with a late night training session. So long as he's quiet enough, and avoids any of the people that are still awake roaming the halls... He can get back without bothering the staff of Garreg Mach, both in its church and its military academy.
Yet he's sure that if he gets up now, then surely Sylvain will wake. He'll think that Dimitri is trying to run away from him in the middle of the night, or he'll have questions on what he's up so early. Somehow, it feels as though the former option would be by far the worst one of the two...
Either way, there's no helping it. Dimitri smooths his hands out along the sheets, or at least tries to. There's only so much room on the bed with the two of them sharing it. In the end, he settles them awkwardly against his pajamas instead, and lets out a breath. There's no way he's going to be able to get to sleep like this, but it can't be helped. This wouldn't be the first time that he's had to fake how well he's slept over the course of a night. He'll just have to do so again, and see if perhaps, come morning or afternoon, he can manage a nap to help a little more.
Of course, that means he's trapped here, laying in the dark, right next to Sylvain's own slumbering body. Possibly it'd be hard for him to get back to sleep this way regardless. Sighing, Dimitri reaches up, slips his hand up from beneath the covers so that he can rub at his face. He knows he was the one to suggest all of this, since he had to go to Sylvain in the first place for help, but... Well. This was a side effect that he supposes he couldn't have foreseen.
"Mitya?" a sleepy voice slurs out besides him, and Dimitri freezes only a moment before he lowers his hand. It's hard to see much in the room, this late at night. The window is a tiny thing, more so that there's just a sign of morning light to help wake up sleepy students. While moonlight would normally help such things, clouds pass it by regularly - or at least that would be Dimitri's guess - and it's hard to use the light to its full effect. He has to squint when he turns his head, struggling to make out Sylvain's face in the gloom.
"Did I bump into you and wake you?" he asks, apologetic. "I'm sorry. I was hoping to be subtle."
Sylvain snorts, only for the hard sound to soften into a long yawn. "Mmm... You shift a little bit too much to be subtle." Whereupon Sylvain wiggles in bed himself, tugging a little more blankets around himself. At least, combined with both of their blankets together, he's not lacking for choice. "The jab to my rib definitely woke me up. What, gotta go use the bathroom? Just pretend I never woke up, then. Wouldn't want to embarrass you."
Well that is one way to get his mind off of his nightmares, and the grind of metal he can hear just faintly. Dimitri sputters. "Sylvain, please." Scoffing, he wiggles in place as well. There's no point in pretending to be asleep now. "I just woke up in the middle of the night, that's all. I cannot get back to sleep."
That isn't an untruth. He really did wake up, and he is having trouble getting back to sleep. Sylvain just doesn't have to know that he woke up from a nightmare, that he's positive he'll start hearing the impatient whispers of his father in his ear as he berates him for his failure in bringing justice to all of them. It's a burden that no one else deserves to bear. It's just him. That is what it means to be crown prince sometimes, he thinks.
At least Sylvain doesn't probe any further. He just hums a little bit, and Dimitri thinks he turns his head just enough to glance over at him in the dark room. The clouds still haven't let the moon free of their prison. "If that's the case... Want to waste a little while talking?"
"Sylvain, if I do that, then I will just keep you up as well... We will both be in a sorry state come morning if that's the case. I am certain that if I wait long enough, I will fall back asleep." Maybe. It's not impossible, is it?
For all his worrying, Sylvain just laughs at him. "Wow, an excuse to sleep through our morning classes?" he teases. "I don't see the downsides at all! But, to be more serious... Listen, you don't have to worry about it so much. Talking helps people fall asleep a little easier, especially depending on the topic. That sort of thing takes up energy, you know. Before you know it, after all that boring talk about what classes we have in the morning, or Manuela's latest dating disaster... You'll be out like a light."
Dimitri isn't entirely sure if he has any interest in Manuela's dating life, honestly, because it just feels awkward to talk about someone else's intimate details in that manner, but, well... He can't deny that Sylvain does have a point. Talking, and listening as well, are both things that take a good deal of energy. Maybe he doesn't have to wear himself down to the bone out in the training yard...
"All right," he says after a moment's thought. "Then I suppose... that is not a bad idea at all." Sylvain really is a lot more clever than people think, and this is just one more example of that. "Although I'd rather not talk about Manuela's dating life, thank you kindly."
Sylvain snorts out a laugh, elbow bumping against Dimitri's. "Right, right. I guess that wouldn't be your preferred kind of topic, then. That's fine. In that case... Go on, why don't I let you choose? You're the one that I'm helping out with this, so you should be the one to decide what we're going to put you to sleep with. Come up with a conversation topic, any kind."
That seems like he's rather being put on the spot. Still, Dimitri supposes it makes sense. It's just, what should he talk about? It's hard to think of anything else besides the nightmare still nipping at his heels, or Sylvain's warm body right next to his own.
Somehow, with his mind turning over and over, he eventually decides on something that leaves his mouth before he has a chance to stop it. "Have you ever thought... what it would be like if you were born crown prince instead?" The second he says it, of course, is the second that Dimitri realizes what a stupid topic that is to bring up. What kind of question even is that? It's certainly not the kind of mundane dribble that Sylvain had suggested. It's the kind of thing that makes a brain work harder, makes it harder to get to sleep.
"Huh," Sylvain says, that single syllable rounded out as though it's tucked into his cheek. "I mean, not before now, anyway." A low chuckle, before Dimitri can tell him to stop, tell him this is a stupid topic for him to choose. "Man, can you imagine how many things I could get away with, then?"
Honestly. "Leave it to you to think of a way to use such a position completely to your advantage," Dimitri states dryly.
"I'm just saying!" Dimitri can hear his smile even in the dark, before there's a lower and more thoughtful hum. "...If I were crown prince, does that mean I'd be Lambert's son, or the Gautier's would be the royal family? Whichever one it is... That changes things a lot. For a royal family of Gautiers..." He trails off. "...It's better that the Blaiddyds handled it all. Or, maybe I can only say that I'm glad that Lambert was the one who was before you, and that you're the one who'll be after him."
Dimitri understands what he means. There is a great deal of their history that he knows is praised greatly, their little independent kingdom that broke away from the great Adrestian Empire. And yet... He is not oblivious. How could anyone remain as such after watching the bloody battle that became the kingdom's Tragedy? How could they upon seeing the true villains, and yet an innocent country full of innocent people was torn apart like a lamb to wolves? Seeing all that... has made it impossible for him to see anything else, when he's looked at the things they've done.
Was his father the same? Dimitri can't be entirely certain. At the time of his life, his father still carefully held so many things close to his chest, so that he wouldn't burden him completely. And yet... Perhaps there had been some regret, some eagerness for peace, that had only come to him as an older man instead of the youth whose exploits people so praised.
If only he could ask him properly... And yet whenever Dimitri has tried, the ghost that haunts his every footsteps either answers not at all, or berates him for caring about such trivial matters when there is still someone with bloodied hands out there.
"But, you know, it wouldn't be a bad thing to have gotten to know your father when he was alive," Sylvain muses, still going on while Dimitri's thoughts churn about in his skull. "He and Rodrigue were always good to use kids, weren't they? They were always making sure that Ingrid didn't feel too left out when we were younger, and they let me stay over in Fhirdiad or Fraldarius for ages at a time..."
Somehow, the way that Sylvain includes that... "It was to help your education, wasn't it?" Dimitri asks. "To give you an idea of how to interact properly in noble society, or to gain familiarity with the kind of land that you would be battling in and defending."
Sylvain laughs, and something about it doesn't sound right. Dimitri can't pinpoint exactly what it is. "Yeah... They really helped me out," he says simply. "Although... What about you, Mitya?"
"What do you mean?"
"You asked me how it would be if I were a crown prince. Have you ever thought about what you'd be like, or do, if you were anything besides the royal heir? If you were a kid like Ashe, or went to magic school, or... were the son of a margrave, like me."
It's not a question that Dimitri was expecting, but he supposes that it's only fair to ask of him. If Sylvain were in his place, then, naturally, he would be in Sylvain's place. "I wonder," he says, closing his eyes again as he thinks on it all. If he were in Sylvain's place, with Miklan as a brother... It's hard for him to say. "I wonder if... No, nevermind. I would have said something rude. Rather, perhaps I would have done well, without having to worry about so much as a crown prince... But then I think that can't be right at all."
"Really? Sounds pretty simple and clear cut to me. A margrave is just a gussied up military general. All you'd really have to do is defend the border against Sreng, right? Hardly a big deal at all, compared to everything else that happens in the royal court."
"Perhaps that is a margrave's primary purpose. I am not the son of a margrave, so I would not presume myself to know more than you on that matter." It would only make him look foolish, to speak so completely over someone else's lived experiences. "Yet... I feel that such a task cannot be the only duty of a margrave. I want to believe that, in some ways. Run by a general or not, Gautier is still a territory in its own right... You must have so many other things to consider. How could I compete with that.." Is he making sense? It doesn't feel as though he's making sense any more. "And in the future... Who knows what could happen."
Sylvain's tongue makes a click in the darkness. "Jeez, Mitya... You always think way too heavily about these sort of questions," he murmurs, an undeniable fondness in his tone. A silver light starts to gently creep across the floor of his room, and Dimitri can see Sylvain's face for the first time since they first laid down to bed together. It's a complicated expression there - bittersweet, in ways, and yet so fond that it could kill him.
"It is you," Dimitri says simply. "Even if we had not become partners in crime over that foolish little bet with Lorenz, you are dear to me, Sylvain. How could I not....?" It is getting hard to choose his words properly, he thinks. The metal scraping, the voices he was so certain would come... They're all drowned out by his conversation.
For a moment, Sylvain doesn't say anything. He just stares at him with that deep look in his eyes, so close and yet somehow so far. Farther than even most of the people Dimitri is surrounded by, where he feels as though there is an invisible moat keeping them separate. Even at odds. Did Sylvain always seem this way? Dimitri suspects... that maybe this opposing feeling, this distant closeness, has been in place longer than he's ever realized.
"Your heart is definitely way too soft," he says quietly. Somehow, that gentle tone of his is more soothing than the trickling of a river. "You don't need to worry about a guy like me. You know that, right?"
On that, he won't agree at all. "I want to worry about you," Dimitri says, trying to keep his voice clear and crisp. It feels rather hard to accomplish such a simple task. "My feelings for you, whatever they may be, are nothing so shallow, Sylvain. I am being honest. I care about you."
"I don't doubt that, at least." Sylvain sighs, and the moonlight is covered up once again. It is only with the faintest remnants that Dimitri can see Sylvain's smile shift into something more like the one he sees almost every day. That simple, relaxed smile is the last thing he sees before the room falls into darkness once more. "You know, when I think back on it... Well, let's not worry about it too much. What thing did you think was too rude of you to say?"
It is truly a terrible thing to say. A rude, bastard-like thing to say. Dimitri knows this. So why is it that, even as his eyes sink shut, his traitorous mouth mumbles out the answer? "I am an only child, by all rights. If I think of dealing with Miklan at that age... I don't know how to deal with it. It makes me glad... that I still had you, when we were all young..."
If he were kicked out of bed... Dimitri would not blame Sylvain for it. Kicked out of the room, event.
Yet he isn't kicked out at all. Instead, as sleep takes him away once again, smoother and more gentle than he would have thought, he feels a gentle hand along his arm. "Then I guess I wasn't such a failure after all," he thinks he hears Sylvain says, before it all goes quiet and dark.