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Dimivain Week: Day 6 - Loyalty
When Cornelia proclaims that the crown prince of Faerghus is dead, Sylvain knows she is lying immediately.
Some of it isn't from any serious thought. Not like what Rodrigue Fraldarius does, demanding to see evidence of a corpse and setting a chair on fire when he's denied. (The chair might be a product of the rumor mill, granted. Fraldarius holdings its line and firing off a volley of arrows is less so.)
Instead, the gut instinct hits him hard and fast. Later, maybe he'll call that denial. The grief comes later, in spurts and waves, making him second guess himself. In the day, while he makes travels across the land with Felix to help the war effort against these foes of theirs, he fights those battles. Battles of steel and magic, sometimes, but more often battles against nature as they travel, or battles of endurance as they force themselves through rough weather.
At night? Or when he is alone, the weather too nice for him to wage battle against? Then it's all a battle inside of himself, of the facts he knows and the despair that is far too easy to fall into.
Dimitri can't be dead because Cornelia's faction never paraded his body around as proof of their victory. (What if they're using his corpse for some terrible experiment?) Dimitri can't be dead, because he'd be more useful alive. (More of a fighter if he was alive, so doesn't this mean he isn't?) Dimitri can't be dead.
Dimitri doesn't go find any of them, whether he's alive or dead.
As time passes, as the war becomes more desperate, those thoughts don't hound him quite as often. There's still so much to do, connections he has to forge and maintain, letters he risks to send to so many of their old friends as they coordinate what they can. Some of them cannot do much - Ashe's land already swallowed up by the Imperial army, Galatea struggling to not make too big waves lest they get targeted so much more harshly. Others can only do so much, like Mercedes helping those displaced by the violence with her healing, and Felix's own coordination with his father forged by the fire of war.
Still. If misery and stress and violence could wipe away all the worries of a mind, then surely everyone in Faerghus would have short term memories. Sylvain still thinks of it all, still thinks of Dimitri, on the occasional night where the moon ducks behind clouds.
Five years of that, and a miracle happens, right on that sworn and promised day of theirs.
Unsurprisingly, finding both the crown prince of Faerghus and the famous and potentially holy tactician that was their professor changes a lot. In the blink of an eye, everything begins to whirl into action. He and Felix leave their territories, the few places still earnestly resisting the empire in Faerghus, and Garreg Mach becomes the new base of the resistance. Gilbert of all people manages to find them - Sylvain supposes he has to give the man credit for being stubborn since he's clearly not getting credit in being a halfway decent father.
And yet... It is not some miraculous comeback. Garreg Mach is not a bastion of freedom, just a ruined church they have to help repair in order to weather the elements properly. Dimitri does not present himself like a savior, does not present himself much like anything. A weapon, maybe? Felix hisses still about him being a beast, even as he hangs around near their prince, a guard and watchman, his worried eyes never leaving him. All of them worry, of course, but Felix is sharp as a blade about it, and never lets up.
Ha. In comparison, Sylvain wonders if his own loyalty is really anything to write home about. What is he doing, anyway? Just making jokes as usual, grimacing about the upcoming trip to Ailell so that they can reunite with reinforcements...
What is he actually doing that's worth much? What can he do? Sylvain supposes not much, just like always. It's never much, with him.
It's around when Rodrigue's forces come to Garreg Mach, giving them a boost in just about everything, that Sylvain finally dares to do something. Honestly, it's just a matter of good timing. With his father here like a breath of fresh air, Felix occasionally storms off to go berate him, although Sylvain suspects that it's just Felix's way of worrying about him. That relationship may be tense, and confusing for both parties, but Sylvain knows that they care about each other. Years of working side by side as they've fought against the Imperial Army's little puppet regent in Fhirdiad have only solidified that further, he thinks. In terms of everything that's happening here, it probably would have been safer for Rodrigue to stay back in Fraldarius. Here... It's all risk.
Just as risky is when he steps out towards Dimitri that night, the sound of his armor clanking more of an announcement than anything. It can't be helped, for a guy like him. "It looks like things have really livened up here, haven't they?" he says casually, like this is just another afternoon in their school days. It's the only thing he knows how to do, here. "It's nice, isn't it?"
Areadbhar looks eerie, here in the cathedral. There aren't many torches lit here these days, unlike when they were young, and there was always someone trying to clean, or pray. There's still a lot of cleaning to do... but that is for the day time. In the dark, there is only the moon, and the uncomfortable painfully red glow of Areadbhar from where it's shaft rests against Dimitri's shoulder as he stays in that same place as always.
At least it doesn't twitch and move like the Lance of Ruin. Small blessings.
Dimitri doesn't answer him right away. There's only the fight line of light that follows Areadbhar as he shifts in place, and he doesn't look at him. Doesn't turn his head or anything at all. Sylvain isn't particularly surprised; he's seen the responses other people have gotten. Yet somehow... He still cannot help but be disappointed.
"What do you want?" Dimitri finally says at least, voice a deep rumble that feels as though it will take the floor out from beneath Sylvain's feet.
That's a better response then Sylvain thought he would get, honestly. Certainly it's better than the responses he's seen other people get- the snaps and snarls and growls, as though Dimitri really does want to be the beast that Felix labels him as. As though that will chase all of them away, leaving him all on his own once again. Well, that won't ever happen, and so Sylvain folds his hands behind his head with a smile. It's fake, but maybe it will help Dimitri feel at ease. It's hard to say when it's not like anything else has worked, not even Byleth's efforts. "I just thought I'd come over to see you properly," he says, which is sort of true, at least. "We haven't really had a chance to talk after five years of not seeing each other."
Five years of thinking Dimitri dead.
All Dimitri does is jerk his shoulders in a harsh shrug; Sylvain doesn't think he ever saw him shrug back in Garreg Mach. Back then, maybe even ever since he was a little kid, he always used his words when he had something on his mind. With this sort of action... It's almost like he's trying to buck the conversation away from himself. "There is nothing worth seeing about me," he says.
Obviously Sylvain disagrees, but, well, he knows well enough that such a thing can't be said so bluntly and openly. Everyone else has tried that tactic, to no avail. Sylvain has to admit that maybe he's worthless in a lot of aspects, but at least he can say he has functioning eyes and the mental capacity to think over the information they give him. "Well, I guess that's in the eye of the beholder or something, right?" he says, still putting on an air of casualness. "Anyway, everyone is really excited about Rodrigue's forces arriving, and I thought I'd take a break from the festivities."
As he thought it might, mentioning Rodrigue causes Dimitri to stir. "...Is that so." It's a quiet sentence, something that others might see no worth in. Yet its quiet nature is exactly why it stands out so much, for a man who goes either silent or aggressive in his tone.
Sylvain really is grateful to Rodrigue, for more reasons than one, ever since the duke met with them over in Ailell and came to Garreg Mach. There's the confidence of having a noble leader that isn't in the middle of a mental breakdown (although Sylvain guesses the bar is low there), and all of the supplies he brought with them revitalized everyone's spirits... And Sylvain knows that it allows the Fraldarius family themselves some reassurance, to see each other and be able to protect each other on the battlefield, for all their tense relationship.
Yet most relevant to the situation he's in right now... It's clear that the things Rodrigue did for Dimitri have managed to penetrate in some way. Sylvain is in no position to really analyze how all of that worked - if it was the presence of Areadbhar, if it was the risk with Areadbhar, or Rodrigue simply treating him just like normal by forging through all protests like a bull, or something else entirely - but, well. It sure worked.
"I'm sure he'd be glad to see you too, if a guy like that can be cheerful even in Ailell of all places," Sylvain remarks, knowing that couldn't be him. He was pretty sure he'd die by the heat long before an enemy blade found him. "But sometimes a little peace and quiet is nice too. The party can live on without me for once, so I took a break to come searching myself." Just, you know, not for peace and quiet. If he wants peace and quiet, then he'll get it out in the aftermath of a battle, where there is only the dead to fill up the space.
There's silence here, too, granted, as Dimitri simply takes in the excuse Sylvain has provided to him. Whether he believes it or not is something hard to read, exactly. All he does is sit there, thinking about who knows what. "Rodrigue is a stubborn man," he finally says, as though Sylvain said nothing at all about his own reasons for being there. "A Fraldarius quality."
Dimitri's not wrong there, that's for sure. Glenn was stubborn, too, when he was alive, and Sylvain has spent most of his life fond of Felix's own stubborn skull. Rodrigue has shown no signs of really being any different, there. "I guess so," he says casually, and dares to step even closer.
A lot of people around Garreg Mach seem terrified, in some ways, that Dimitri will lash out at them. That he will raise his spear against them as much as he would any member of the Imperial army. Sylvain isn't so sure himself. In this area, maybe one could just label him as overly sentimental, a fool who can't help but long for the boy of his schooldays who stubbornly insisted on going on another date with him. A boy he longed to protect, much like two other younger children, although in a different way.
On some level, it's probably true. On another level, Sylvain has his eyes, and his knowledge, and he's watched Dimitri long enough to know that the man hates himself enough for being a monster. For taking the lives of even those that are his enemies. It's quite the messed up view that he's wrapped himself up in, but, well, it's a pretty messed up situation they've all been wrapped up in, even from before the war. How would Dimitri feel if he were to take that bloodied lance of his against those he finds to be innocents, those who profess to be his allies and risk their very lives for him?
Dimitri has never stuck around too long for arguments to turn into actual fights. He loses his temper, to be sure, and he snaps at all of them, but he never forces them to do anything. All he does is whirl away, and say he will do what he feels he needs to, damn the rest of them.
Probably, if he weren't the long lost prince of Faerghus, a rallying point for a desperate group of rebels, this would be easier for him to actually accomplish.
But then, Sylvain supposes so many of them would still be here with him even if he wasn't. So long as they had known him as that dear friend of his, who they had grown close to in Garreg Mach... Or maybe that wouldn't be the same at all. Distantly, he thinks of a conversation he and Dimitri had, a long time ago, on a cloudy night that barred moonlight.
Dimitri doesn't chase him away at the sound of his boots hitting the stone floor, the metal clinking and rattling every so slightly. Plate is not something meant for quiet; it makes Sylvain wonder how Dimitri stays alive so long and out of sight, never captured. "What are you doing here, Sylvain?" he asks, in that low deep voice of his. Once upon a time, on the few occasions that he had heard Dimitri's voice drop that low, Sylvain had felt shivers go up his spine, and not unpleasantly. That depth is more of a constant, now. More of a reminder of how much Dimitri has changed, and has been forced to change.
"I thought I just gave you the answer to that question," Sylvain replies, although he knows that's something of a lie. He didn't give a proper answer. Possibly, they both know it. The Dimitri of this present moment has a lot less patience for sidestepping, clever nonsense than the Dimitri of the past.
Honestly, considering how much help Dimitri needed with tactics in their schooldays, he was never particularly patient there, either, although he hid it better.
That lack of patience shows right now as he pushes himself up onto his feet, a looming shape that somehow seems larger even as Sylvain knows that they're close in height. It's the way his armor gets lost in the shadows provided by his cloak, taking away his true shape. It's in the way the fur on his cloak bristles, almost like a living part of himself instead of mere clothing. "What were you expecting to find?" he says as he turns to face Sylvain, darkness swallowing up half of him - half of his expression, half of his person. There's a reason people are so intimidated by him, but, in the dark of the cathedral, he is something even harder to face down. "Were you, like all the others, hoping to find something human?"
A lot likely hinges on Sylvain's answer - or, if nothing else, getting Dimitri to listen to him will depend on his answer. He's just not really sure what a right answer is. So, in the end, all he can say with a shrug is, "I was just hoping to find Dimitri, honestly, and nothing more or less."
It is an answer, at the very least, that does not make Dimitri turn away from him. However, judging by the way Dimitri's single too-blue eye narrows at him, it wasn't really a right answer, either. Sylvain isn't sure if there was a right answer for that particular question. "You," Dimitri growls, only to pause, still glaring. The thoughts that churn in his head are a mystery to Sylvain, with everything far too dark for him to see clearly. Not in a literal sense, those that cover half of Dimitri's face, but a more personal one. "...This should have been said a long time ago, I see."
Uh oh. Sylvain fights the urge to tense up. "What should have been said?"
A harsh exhale from Dimitri's nose, and he surveys Sylvain for a moment longer. "...I wish to break up."
What.
The words don't register in Sylvain's brain for a moment, with how outrageous they are, how he was inspecting possibly anything but that. When they finally do register, he wheezes in a sound that doesn't even sound human, before the laughter bursts out of him like a pastry exploding out of an oven. "That's what you wanted to say to me!?" he hacks out, inbetween all the laughter that has him doubling over. Dimitri is staring at him; that's all Sylvain can really tell from all the tears of hysterical laughter. "What - wait - were we even - oh saints - I didn't know you thought of us as still dating!?"
Some people don't have hope, that a lover they have in times of war will still be there when they finally reunite. It's a common worry, sometimes viewed warily, sometimes denied with aggressive optimism or boasting. Dimitri almost died, five years ago. Sylvain told himself not to be so much a fool to still hold onto something that resulted from a stupid bet between teenagers.
Really, he should have known that Dimitri would be different. His wild laughter gets all the moreso, relief fueling the flames.
Dimitri is different. And yet, in the end, he's still the same.
By the end, Sylvain's face is slick with tears, and he can't tell if they're more from mirth or the kind of relief that grief can't even hope to match. Likely some sort of mingled and bizarre mix, if he had to guess. As he wipes at his face, using the pads of his gauntlets for lack of any handkerchief or even a decent shirt sleeve, Sylvain smiles at the expression Dimitri is giving him. It's the kind of look he's seen on many a startled alleycat, staring down from its perch at something that had just crashed over and disturbed its life of rat hunting and distance.
What a fantastic expression. Sylvain feels warmer than any fire could offer him just staring up at it. It's been years since any girl was on his arm, and he knows for a fact that not a one would have stuck around for him in the war... especially one like this, where it clearly looks as though Faerghus will fall apart, and that last name of his will mean nothing.
Dimitri didn't wait for him, not exactly, but... Sylvain smiles at him, probably looking like a mess with the sloppy way he cleared up his tears. It's kind of hard to care. "You still considered us dating after all these years of not having a proper date," he says fondly. Well. Maybe Dimitri wasn't the only one who still considered their relationship to be so intimate. So, even as Dimitri stares at him in complete bewilderment, Sylvain shakes his head and adds, "I think I'm going to have to decline on that demand of yours, Dimitri."
Unsurprisingly, that snaps Dimitri out of it, and he scowls. "That is not what you promised!" he snarls, lip curling up over his teeth.
What he promised? Yeah, Sylvain thinks he remembers something like that from when they were younger - him so desperately convinced that Dimitri would get over whatever weird hotflash he was having that could make him so stubborn about dating him. That aching desire to not become a painful memory or relationship for the person he cared about so much. Well, things have changed since then, although he supposes Dimitri would view that as cheating the nature of the promise.
"I know that's what I promised," Sylvain says, resting his hands on his hips. "But you know, I don't think I ever held up to the other end of that promise. I never took you on a proper date again, in my opinion. How can I break up with you and uphold that end of the bargain if another end is still faltering?"
It's a bit of a bullshit excuse, he knows, but it's one of the first things to come to mind that he can use here. Anything that can just keep the conversation going on longer, that can keep Dimitri out of his own head, away from the ghosts he begs and pleads with. Can Dimitri spot how much of an excuse it is? Or does he simply suspect everyone of trying to steal him away from the dead? There has to be some sort of reason behind why he bristles beyond just frustration on Sylvain not going along with this break up. "It hardly matters, if things are already being broken up with to start," he hisses.
Admittedly, that is the logical way of things. Sylvain wouldn't disagree with it, normally. However, this is a bit of an abnormal situation, and he won't let a little thing like logic get in the way. "I have my reputation to uphold, you know," he says simply instead, smiling at the way Dimitri's face crumples up in frustration. "I can't just break up with you so cheaply. It has to be at least a little better, and reliant on me failing in some way."
The cruelest but quickest method of denying him this opportunity would be to say that Sylvain failed when he couldn't do anything for Dimitri when he was first captured and framed for his uncle's murder. Dimitri... says nothing on that. All he does is glare at him for a while longer, shoulders tense underneath that bristling fur, before he whirls away.
Nothing more is said on the matter. At least, not by Dimitri.
Sylvain takes that as a win for himself, since he's not sure how else to take it and even he can only accept so many depressing losses. So even though Dimitri tries to give him the cold shoulder, doesn't look back at him that night, Sylvain still does his best to fill up the silence. He does the same for the rest of the month as well, although he can't make every night. There's just too much that they need to do, in all sorts of ways. They have to organize the supplies that Rodrigue's forces have brought with them, and there's still so much of Garreg Mach that needs clearing up or repairing, war tables to attend... Some days, Sylvain is so exhausted that he can't think of anything but laying face first in his bed.
Still, he makes an effort. He volunteers to bring Mercedes and Ashes' cooking over to Dimitri, casually chattering away at him until Dimitri snarls and shoves a handful of food into his mouth. He checks in on how Felix's ever constant vigil is going, makes sure that he doesn't burn himself out too much. Whenever they have to duck out for battle, whether it's chasing off wannabe bandits or going off to make sure that Annette returns safely from her uncle's place, he double checks on Dimitri's health, what injuries he might be hiding from others.
Does it do anything? He's not sure, honestly. He likes to think that it all is starting to help pull Dimitri together bit by bit - the reunion of them all together, Rodrigue knocking him out of his orbit a little, Byleth's attempts, Sylvain trying to look out for him... And, especially, Dedue joining them at Myrddin, Byleth pulling Lorenz out of his own idiocy and the Empire.
Dedue more than the latter has a bigger impact, Sylvain has to admit. He can see it, clear as starlight, just watching them from a distance away, how Dimitri softens and despairs gently at the fact that another soul is still living instead of having died for him.
The war needs to end as soon as possible so that all the sufereing can be put to an end, and recovery can start... But in a way, Sylvain wishes that things could go slower. That they could keep adding up these various encounters until Dimitri stops listening to the dead, and turns his eyes back to all of them.
With the battle that is up ahead of them, that unfortunately won't be the case. Not with how Edelgard takes up all of his thoughts.
Still, while Dimitri doesn't seem to pay much mind to Lorenz's presence in the ranks and it doesn't seem to affect his mentality at all, Sylvain ends up surprised that it's quite different for him. Lorenz ends up searching him out one day, while he's hauling away some rocks from a wall that had fallen apart at some point in its long abandonment. "Allow me to assist you," he says, which is probably a sign of growth, or something. The Lorenz of his youth would surely have never dirtied his hands with such menial labor, and certainly would have been glad to leave Sylvain to suffer back breaking work.
Well, who is he to decline an extra set of helping hands? And it's probably for the better to get Lorenz to work as soon as possible. He's probably been too cozy, hanging back in the Alliance, or working for the Imperials. "Well, I'll get the wheelbarrow then while you keep stacking them up," he says casually.
Dragging him off of his horse at the bridge really has seemed to change Lorenz for the better. He doesn't complain even a little bit, just gets straight to work. Or maybe it's just that he has something else in mind that has him on his best behavior. Sylvain waits to see what it is, and doesn't have to wait very long. "So it appears that the Kingdom is still making a comeback," he says, wiping a bit of dust away from his face. "Are you certain it will be alright?"
"Who knows," Sylvain says, because that's the simple truth of the matter. Another grunt as he gets another chunk of rubble into the wheelbarrow. "But there's no way that we can just back down now. Especially after seeing how Cornelia treats everyone... Well, Edelgard had a pretty face, but I guess her personality wasn't as up to par, with how she's entrusting someone like that with such an important area." It's honestly kind of disappointing... He knows that Dimitri has a personal reason for wanting to see Edelgard dead, with the reveal of who she was, and everything she had a hand in, like Remire and the attack which started this whole war.
At the same time, Sylvain can't help but have some feelings on it all as well. It wasn't as though they were ever close friends or anything; Edelgard was one of those who was smart enough to stay away from him and, as the future Emperor of Adrestia, had no use for getting close to him anyway. Maybe because of that, he was able to take in a good look on her own actions. He always thought maybe it'd be a good thing, for her to take the throne. That, much like with Dimitri at the head of Faerghus, it'd be the sign of a new wind blowing for Fodlan.
It would be more accurate to call Edelgard a tsunami, now.
The only thing Sylvain can't tell is why. Edelgard's declaration about the church had sounded nice and all, but it didn't sound right. And if she was just making a charge at the church alone, well, that would explain why she's trying to tear down the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. It shows a complete lack of understanding about Dimitri, considering she never even gave him the time of day no matter how hard Dimitri clearly worked to make friends with her, but, on a surface level, it makes sense.
Going after the Leicester Alliance is what doesn't make as much sense, not with that logic. The Alliance's relationship to the church has always been lukewarm, and such a gathering of nobles wouldn't leap into helping one side or the other so immediately... Not unless there was something that would directly affect them.
So why push at them? Sylvain hadn't heard of anything that would make them inclined to siding with Faerghus, especially a Faerghus that had seemed like it was on the brink of collapse with only a couple of lands that were able to fight back properly. With no other information readily available to him, Sylvain has to admit that the reasons seem more greed focused than anything else... Which seems like a cheap explanation, but it's not as though Edelgard has been clear with any other one.
Needless to say, it's pretty frustrating.
Lorenz takes a moment to take all of that in, his lips thinned somewhat. Up until not that long ago, after all, he was on the side of that Imperial army. Even for someone determined to change, it can take a while to do so easily. "How bad is it, up in Fhirdiad, then?" Lorenz asks at last.
For the people down in the Alliance, especially a distant place like Gloucester, of course they wouldn't have heard as much about the common troubles happening in Faerghus. They had their own problems to deal with. Sylvain considers what to say for a moment as he loads more debris into the wheelbarrow. "A mess," he says, eventually. "It's practically a disaster. We haven't been able to really get up close and see things for ourselves... But Rodrigue has some people who report back to him with information, now and then. The conditions are almost worse than they were during the plague."
People struggling in squalor, food taken for the war effort instead of being given to those who raised it in the first place... It's nightmarish. And there's Cornelia, living it up in a stolen castle, while the rest of the country falls to ruin.
Sylvain has to wonder if Edelgard is proud of the state she's reduced the kingdom to. All the innocent people dying of starvation and illness because they aren't being looked after like they should be. Cared for, like they should be. Is this the future she envisions, for all her grand words? Sylvain wishes any of them could ask her, let alone get a straight answer out of her.
It's clearly something Lorenz thought was possible but hadn't quite accepted, judging by his grimace. Or maybe that's just from the effort of helping clear rubble. "And you truly think Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd will be the better option?" he asks.
Ha. That's the question he's been hearing over and over again, in quiet whispers, or furious arguments in rooms where the occupants hope there's no one outside to hear such things. Sylvain can understand the frustration and confusion, the question that's being asked. For a lot of people who don't have such personal and intimate connections to Dimitri, this is really just because he is a rallying point - a part of Faerghus that was unjustly stolen and besmirched, something that they can put back into place and magically solve all the problems. Maybe it would be better if someone like Rodrigue would take over, or even Byleth...
But, politically speaking, that would cause just more division. You'd have the loyalists to the crown, the people who might still want to side with Cornelia for whatever reason, anyone in Rodrigue's camp, anyone who would just want to go against some random mercenary of unknown origin like Byleth...
So it's better, on that level, to keep things simple, at least for right now. And, honestly, Dimitri has a point in that if they somehow miraculously did take down Edelgard immediately... Well, it would certainly cause quite an upheave in the war. Better or worse than just going to reclaim Fhirdiad? That's the thing that people continue to argue about.
Politics aren't why Sylvain is here, though. He's here for just one simple reason: promises made that he intends to keep. to his friends, and to Dimitri.
"I do," he says with a grunt, dumping another bit of rubble into the wheelbarrow before he walks around to its handles. There's no use in loading it up anymore, not if they want to be able to use their limbs the next morning. "He'll get better. Killing Edelgard isn't going to solve any of our problems, but ending the war will do a lot. You just got here, so you don't know that he was worse." They've really been making strides... Sylvain is positive of it. It was just hearing that Edelgard would be participating in the next battle that got him all worked up...
Killing her won't really solve anything. He meant that. Yet if they can just get this obsession away from him... Sylvain is positive once that's taken care of, Dimitri will have taken another step away from this hole he's sunk into.
It hasn't hit him that he's lost in his own thoughts, working on what else they can do to help pull Dimitri back on track, until Lorenz speaks up again. "Sylvain... I really must apologize to you, although it is quite a few years late."
Sylvain stares. He wasn't sure what to expect from this conversation from the start, but it sure wasn't that. "Huh," he says, mouth running on autopilot to buy his brain some time. Really, far from the worst thing he's ever said for that purpose. "I mean, I guess I'll take any apology that I'm given, but for what?"
"I always put down your dedication and romantic feelings towards His Highness," Lorenz says, with a shake of his head. "It was outrageous to me that you would win our bet by not only wooing a man, but daring to play with the feelings of someone like a crown prince, especially one whose reputation was so fine. And yet, seeing how you still act even now after all these years... Even if the road head of you will be difficult, as a noble, I hope that your romance ends as well as it can, and I apologize for the disparaging remarks I made of it in my youth."
Wow. "I didn't think you'd ever say anything like that to me in your entire life," Sylvain muses as he pushes the wheelbarrow along, Lorenz walking alongside him. "Although if we're apologizing for things... I should probably do the same to you, Lorenz."
"Why, whatever for?"
You know, Sylvain always sort of figured he'd take this particular dumb secret to his grave, if only because the grave was a fifty-fifty sort of thing on the battlefield, and he hadn't really seen Lorenz for five years for obvious reasons. "I was lying, when I won that bet," he tells him. "That whole thing I did - you remember, when I flirted with Dimitri while he was having tea? That was a set up. I managed to convince him to go along with it, before that day, and I'm half sure he agreed just to make me shut up." A second's pause, and he adds, "Whatever you might have heard from Annette back then, I was just bugging him, and she misread the situation."
On the bright side, whatever else, the look on Lorenz's face as he stares at him is fantastic, Sylvain has to admit. "But - the pair of you went on a date afterwards!" he exclaims, when his tongue finally remembers how to fold sounds into words.
"Yeah, because I would make a piss poor flirt if I didn't take someone out on a date, and that's the whole point," he stresses. "That whole bet never really got resolved for real, I just was getting embarrassed at how badly we were both doing." And apparently, so had Dimitri, with how he'd agreed to go along with it.
There is something just truly beautiful about how Lorenz's brain is failing him behind those wide eyes of his. Sylvain takes his time in enjoying it, which actually proves to be something of a mistake. All too soon, something seems to snap into place for Lorenz, and he frowns, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at Sylvain. "From what I recall of our schooldays," he says slowly, "you never particularly engaged in much flirting after that. And His Highness was quite close to you then, too."
If he can just stop being an absolute idiot beholden to his father, Lorenz might actually turn out to be a half decent head of his house. Sylvain can't believe that he actually remembers an insignificant detail like that. The excuse he'd had prepared at the time - not that anyone ever actually asked - was that there was just too much happening and he could never get a good date going.
Somehow, he doesn't think that excuse will fly right now. Well... He supposes there's no point in hiding it. "Dimitri insisted on trying another date," he says, eyeing a small couple of stone steps that don't look like they'll be particularly fun to go down. "Wouldn't listen to me when I tried to talk sense into him."
Lorenz does him a solid - not by stopping the conversation there, because no one ever does Sylvain that particular favor, but by going along the side of the wheelbarrow and gripping it with his hands. "There we go," he murmurs as the two of them being the trip downwards. It's only when the wheels are on solid ground again and Sylvain's teeth aren't rattling around in his jaw that Lorenz glances to him suspiciously. "And why on earth would you have to talk sense into him?"
"Because... I was trying to break up with him?" Sylvain repeats slowly, raising an eyebrow.
Apparently that's the wrong answer, considering the way Lorenz gives that dramatic and hoity toity kind of sigh Sylvain privately made fun of him for back when they were in school. "To break up, one only need a single party to say that they have no interest in the relationship anymore," Lorenz says, as though he's explaining basic arithmetic to a child.
That tone would kind of annoy Sylvain on any other day, and it still sort of does... But, with a grimace, he has to admit that Lorenz has a point. Back then, if he really wanted to, he could have turned Dimitri down gently, and maybe even have worked his hardest to find someone that would return the kind of love he was so capable of producing back then. Can still produce, surely, if they can just get him out of his own head. "Man, since when can you claim to know me so well?" he complains, just so he can avoid giving any actual and set answer.
Still, they both know that Lorenz has hit his mark there, without Sylvain having to admit to it. Honestly... It kind of stings. Was he that obvious? Either way, Lorenz just nods to himself, and they dump the rubble over in the pile that's only gotten larger in the months that they've all been staying in Garreg Mach.
"Regardless, however much of a conniving fiend you might have been in the original bet," Lorenz says as they swat the dust off of themselves, "I must admit you to be loyal, Sylvain. In that case... I am certain that one day it will be properly rewarded and understood. Perhaps what you say is true, and the end of this war will have us see an actual good king."
Perhaps or not, the only thing to do for tricky situations like this is to work towards making them what he wants them to be. Sylvain knows that much as a truth of the world, even if he feels as though he can't change anything at all.
So he continues to try and convince Dimitri into eating, continues to watch out for any wounds Dimitri can't quite hide, continues to watch out for him as best a protect he can be.
He continues to sit with him, talking to him all throughout the night as though they were once again a pair of schoolboys sharing a bed together while only the half hidden moon stayed as a testament to the things that happened between them. He talks, all the way until Dimitri chases him away.
Such little things cannot stop a war from progressing, unfortunately, and Gronder draws a tension throughout every single soul in Garreg Mach. What else can Sylvain do, when they finally march out? All he has is his armor and his steed, routing enemies away from a boy he loved very much, a man he hopes to save, even as that person charges forward recklessly.
All he can do in the aftermath, when one last body falls even when the battle has ended, is search out those most affected. Search out Dimitri to no avail, search out Felix only to be turned away.
There's a saying that one can only dig so deep before two things happen: they find they've made their own grave, or they realize they can only go back up. After everything that's happened... After that one last miserable death, of a flawed but decent man, things finally turn around.
They turn back to Fhirdiad.
They turn back to helping their allies, in Derdriu.
They turn back to fighting the kind of war they should have been fighting, and getting the sort of victory that was necessary.
Dimitri turns back to him.
Some of it isn't from any serious thought. Not like what Rodrigue Fraldarius does, demanding to see evidence of a corpse and setting a chair on fire when he's denied. (The chair might be a product of the rumor mill, granted. Fraldarius holdings its line and firing off a volley of arrows is less so.)
Instead, the gut instinct hits him hard and fast. Later, maybe he'll call that denial. The grief comes later, in spurts and waves, making him second guess himself. In the day, while he makes travels across the land with Felix to help the war effort against these foes of theirs, he fights those battles. Battles of steel and magic, sometimes, but more often battles against nature as they travel, or battles of endurance as they force themselves through rough weather.
At night? Or when he is alone, the weather too nice for him to wage battle against? Then it's all a battle inside of himself, of the facts he knows and the despair that is far too easy to fall into.
Dimitri can't be dead because Cornelia's faction never paraded his body around as proof of their victory. (What if they're using his corpse for some terrible experiment?) Dimitri can't be dead, because he'd be more useful alive. (More of a fighter if he was alive, so doesn't this mean he isn't?) Dimitri can't be dead.
Dimitri doesn't go find any of them, whether he's alive or dead.
As time passes, as the war becomes more desperate, those thoughts don't hound him quite as often. There's still so much to do, connections he has to forge and maintain, letters he risks to send to so many of their old friends as they coordinate what they can. Some of them cannot do much - Ashe's land already swallowed up by the Imperial army, Galatea struggling to not make too big waves lest they get targeted so much more harshly. Others can only do so much, like Mercedes helping those displaced by the violence with her healing, and Felix's own coordination with his father forged by the fire of war.
Still. If misery and stress and violence could wipe away all the worries of a mind, then surely everyone in Faerghus would have short term memories. Sylvain still thinks of it all, still thinks of Dimitri, on the occasional night where the moon ducks behind clouds.
Five years of that, and a miracle happens, right on that sworn and promised day of theirs.
Unsurprisingly, finding both the crown prince of Faerghus and the famous and potentially holy tactician that was their professor changes a lot. In the blink of an eye, everything begins to whirl into action. He and Felix leave their territories, the few places still earnestly resisting the empire in Faerghus, and Garreg Mach becomes the new base of the resistance. Gilbert of all people manages to find them - Sylvain supposes he has to give the man credit for being stubborn since he's clearly not getting credit in being a halfway decent father.
And yet... It is not some miraculous comeback. Garreg Mach is not a bastion of freedom, just a ruined church they have to help repair in order to weather the elements properly. Dimitri does not present himself like a savior, does not present himself much like anything. A weapon, maybe? Felix hisses still about him being a beast, even as he hangs around near their prince, a guard and watchman, his worried eyes never leaving him. All of them worry, of course, but Felix is sharp as a blade about it, and never lets up.
Ha. In comparison, Sylvain wonders if his own loyalty is really anything to write home about. What is he doing, anyway? Just making jokes as usual, grimacing about the upcoming trip to Ailell so that they can reunite with reinforcements...
What is he actually doing that's worth much? What can he do? Sylvain supposes not much, just like always. It's never much, with him.
It's around when Rodrigue's forces come to Garreg Mach, giving them a boost in just about everything, that Sylvain finally dares to do something. Honestly, it's just a matter of good timing. With his father here like a breath of fresh air, Felix occasionally storms off to go berate him, although Sylvain suspects that it's just Felix's way of worrying about him. That relationship may be tense, and confusing for both parties, but Sylvain knows that they care about each other. Years of working side by side as they've fought against the Imperial Army's little puppet regent in Fhirdiad have only solidified that further, he thinks. In terms of everything that's happening here, it probably would have been safer for Rodrigue to stay back in Fraldarius. Here... It's all risk.
Just as risky is when he steps out towards Dimitri that night, the sound of his armor clanking more of an announcement than anything. It can't be helped, for a guy like him. "It looks like things have really livened up here, haven't they?" he says casually, like this is just another afternoon in their school days. It's the only thing he knows how to do, here. "It's nice, isn't it?"
Areadbhar looks eerie, here in the cathedral. There aren't many torches lit here these days, unlike when they were young, and there was always someone trying to clean, or pray. There's still a lot of cleaning to do... but that is for the day time. In the dark, there is only the moon, and the uncomfortable painfully red glow of Areadbhar from where it's shaft rests against Dimitri's shoulder as he stays in that same place as always.
At least it doesn't twitch and move like the Lance of Ruin. Small blessings.
Dimitri doesn't answer him right away. There's only the fight line of light that follows Areadbhar as he shifts in place, and he doesn't look at him. Doesn't turn his head or anything at all. Sylvain isn't particularly surprised; he's seen the responses other people have gotten. Yet somehow... He still cannot help but be disappointed.
"What do you want?" Dimitri finally says at least, voice a deep rumble that feels as though it will take the floor out from beneath Sylvain's feet.
That's a better response then Sylvain thought he would get, honestly. Certainly it's better than the responses he's seen other people get- the snaps and snarls and growls, as though Dimitri really does want to be the beast that Felix labels him as. As though that will chase all of them away, leaving him all on his own once again. Well, that won't ever happen, and so Sylvain folds his hands behind his head with a smile. It's fake, but maybe it will help Dimitri feel at ease. It's hard to say when it's not like anything else has worked, not even Byleth's efforts. "I just thought I'd come over to see you properly," he says, which is sort of true, at least. "We haven't really had a chance to talk after five years of not seeing each other."
Five years of thinking Dimitri dead.
All Dimitri does is jerk his shoulders in a harsh shrug; Sylvain doesn't think he ever saw him shrug back in Garreg Mach. Back then, maybe even ever since he was a little kid, he always used his words when he had something on his mind. With this sort of action... It's almost like he's trying to buck the conversation away from himself. "There is nothing worth seeing about me," he says.
Obviously Sylvain disagrees, but, well, he knows well enough that such a thing can't be said so bluntly and openly. Everyone else has tried that tactic, to no avail. Sylvain has to admit that maybe he's worthless in a lot of aspects, but at least he can say he has functioning eyes and the mental capacity to think over the information they give him. "Well, I guess that's in the eye of the beholder or something, right?" he says, still putting on an air of casualness. "Anyway, everyone is really excited about Rodrigue's forces arriving, and I thought I'd take a break from the festivities."
As he thought it might, mentioning Rodrigue causes Dimitri to stir. "...Is that so." It's a quiet sentence, something that others might see no worth in. Yet its quiet nature is exactly why it stands out so much, for a man who goes either silent or aggressive in his tone.
Sylvain really is grateful to Rodrigue, for more reasons than one, ever since the duke met with them over in Ailell and came to Garreg Mach. There's the confidence of having a noble leader that isn't in the middle of a mental breakdown (although Sylvain guesses the bar is low there), and all of the supplies he brought with them revitalized everyone's spirits... And Sylvain knows that it allows the Fraldarius family themselves some reassurance, to see each other and be able to protect each other on the battlefield, for all their tense relationship.
Yet most relevant to the situation he's in right now... It's clear that the things Rodrigue did for Dimitri have managed to penetrate in some way. Sylvain is in no position to really analyze how all of that worked - if it was the presence of Areadbhar, if it was the risk with Areadbhar, or Rodrigue simply treating him just like normal by forging through all protests like a bull, or something else entirely - but, well. It sure worked.
"I'm sure he'd be glad to see you too, if a guy like that can be cheerful even in Ailell of all places," Sylvain remarks, knowing that couldn't be him. He was pretty sure he'd die by the heat long before an enemy blade found him. "But sometimes a little peace and quiet is nice too. The party can live on without me for once, so I took a break to come searching myself." Just, you know, not for peace and quiet. If he wants peace and quiet, then he'll get it out in the aftermath of a battle, where there is only the dead to fill up the space.
There's silence here, too, granted, as Dimitri simply takes in the excuse Sylvain has provided to him. Whether he believes it or not is something hard to read, exactly. All he does is sit there, thinking about who knows what. "Rodrigue is a stubborn man," he finally says, as though Sylvain said nothing at all about his own reasons for being there. "A Fraldarius quality."
Dimitri's not wrong there, that's for sure. Glenn was stubborn, too, when he was alive, and Sylvain has spent most of his life fond of Felix's own stubborn skull. Rodrigue has shown no signs of really being any different, there. "I guess so," he says casually, and dares to step even closer.
A lot of people around Garreg Mach seem terrified, in some ways, that Dimitri will lash out at them. That he will raise his spear against them as much as he would any member of the Imperial army. Sylvain isn't so sure himself. In this area, maybe one could just label him as overly sentimental, a fool who can't help but long for the boy of his schooldays who stubbornly insisted on going on another date with him. A boy he longed to protect, much like two other younger children, although in a different way.
On some level, it's probably true. On another level, Sylvain has his eyes, and his knowledge, and he's watched Dimitri long enough to know that the man hates himself enough for being a monster. For taking the lives of even those that are his enemies. It's quite the messed up view that he's wrapped himself up in, but, well, it's a pretty messed up situation they've all been wrapped up in, even from before the war. How would Dimitri feel if he were to take that bloodied lance of his against those he finds to be innocents, those who profess to be his allies and risk their very lives for him?
Dimitri has never stuck around too long for arguments to turn into actual fights. He loses his temper, to be sure, and he snaps at all of them, but he never forces them to do anything. All he does is whirl away, and say he will do what he feels he needs to, damn the rest of them.
Probably, if he weren't the long lost prince of Faerghus, a rallying point for a desperate group of rebels, this would be easier for him to actually accomplish.
But then, Sylvain supposes so many of them would still be here with him even if he wasn't. So long as they had known him as that dear friend of his, who they had grown close to in Garreg Mach... Or maybe that wouldn't be the same at all. Distantly, he thinks of a conversation he and Dimitri had, a long time ago, on a cloudy night that barred moonlight.
Dimitri doesn't chase him away at the sound of his boots hitting the stone floor, the metal clinking and rattling every so slightly. Plate is not something meant for quiet; it makes Sylvain wonder how Dimitri stays alive so long and out of sight, never captured. "What are you doing here, Sylvain?" he asks, in that low deep voice of his. Once upon a time, on the few occasions that he had heard Dimitri's voice drop that low, Sylvain had felt shivers go up his spine, and not unpleasantly. That depth is more of a constant, now. More of a reminder of how much Dimitri has changed, and has been forced to change.
"I thought I just gave you the answer to that question," Sylvain replies, although he knows that's something of a lie. He didn't give a proper answer. Possibly, they both know it. The Dimitri of this present moment has a lot less patience for sidestepping, clever nonsense than the Dimitri of the past.
Honestly, considering how much help Dimitri needed with tactics in their schooldays, he was never particularly patient there, either, although he hid it better.
That lack of patience shows right now as he pushes himself up onto his feet, a looming shape that somehow seems larger even as Sylvain knows that they're close in height. It's the way his armor gets lost in the shadows provided by his cloak, taking away his true shape. It's in the way the fur on his cloak bristles, almost like a living part of himself instead of mere clothing. "What were you expecting to find?" he says as he turns to face Sylvain, darkness swallowing up half of him - half of his expression, half of his person. There's a reason people are so intimidated by him, but, in the dark of the cathedral, he is something even harder to face down. "Were you, like all the others, hoping to find something human?"
A lot likely hinges on Sylvain's answer - or, if nothing else, getting Dimitri to listen to him will depend on his answer. He's just not really sure what a right answer is. So, in the end, all he can say with a shrug is, "I was just hoping to find Dimitri, honestly, and nothing more or less."
It is an answer, at the very least, that does not make Dimitri turn away from him. However, judging by the way Dimitri's single too-blue eye narrows at him, it wasn't really a right answer, either. Sylvain isn't sure if there was a right answer for that particular question. "You," Dimitri growls, only to pause, still glaring. The thoughts that churn in his head are a mystery to Sylvain, with everything far too dark for him to see clearly. Not in a literal sense, those that cover half of Dimitri's face, but a more personal one. "...This should have been said a long time ago, I see."
Uh oh. Sylvain fights the urge to tense up. "What should have been said?"
A harsh exhale from Dimitri's nose, and he surveys Sylvain for a moment longer. "...I wish to break up."
What.
The words don't register in Sylvain's brain for a moment, with how outrageous they are, how he was inspecting possibly anything but that. When they finally do register, he wheezes in a sound that doesn't even sound human, before the laughter bursts out of him like a pastry exploding out of an oven. "That's what you wanted to say to me!?" he hacks out, inbetween all the laughter that has him doubling over. Dimitri is staring at him; that's all Sylvain can really tell from all the tears of hysterical laughter. "What - wait - were we even - oh saints - I didn't know you thought of us as still dating!?"
Some people don't have hope, that a lover they have in times of war will still be there when they finally reunite. It's a common worry, sometimes viewed warily, sometimes denied with aggressive optimism or boasting. Dimitri almost died, five years ago. Sylvain told himself not to be so much a fool to still hold onto something that resulted from a stupid bet between teenagers.
Really, he should have known that Dimitri would be different. His wild laughter gets all the moreso, relief fueling the flames.
Dimitri is different. And yet, in the end, he's still the same.
By the end, Sylvain's face is slick with tears, and he can't tell if they're more from mirth or the kind of relief that grief can't even hope to match. Likely some sort of mingled and bizarre mix, if he had to guess. As he wipes at his face, using the pads of his gauntlets for lack of any handkerchief or even a decent shirt sleeve, Sylvain smiles at the expression Dimitri is giving him. It's the kind of look he's seen on many a startled alleycat, staring down from its perch at something that had just crashed over and disturbed its life of rat hunting and distance.
What a fantastic expression. Sylvain feels warmer than any fire could offer him just staring up at it. It's been years since any girl was on his arm, and he knows for a fact that not a one would have stuck around for him in the war... especially one like this, where it clearly looks as though Faerghus will fall apart, and that last name of his will mean nothing.
Dimitri didn't wait for him, not exactly, but... Sylvain smiles at him, probably looking like a mess with the sloppy way he cleared up his tears. It's kind of hard to care. "You still considered us dating after all these years of not having a proper date," he says fondly. Well. Maybe Dimitri wasn't the only one who still considered their relationship to be so intimate. So, even as Dimitri stares at him in complete bewilderment, Sylvain shakes his head and adds, "I think I'm going to have to decline on that demand of yours, Dimitri."
Unsurprisingly, that snaps Dimitri out of it, and he scowls. "That is not what you promised!" he snarls, lip curling up over his teeth.
What he promised? Yeah, Sylvain thinks he remembers something like that from when they were younger - him so desperately convinced that Dimitri would get over whatever weird hotflash he was having that could make him so stubborn about dating him. That aching desire to not become a painful memory or relationship for the person he cared about so much. Well, things have changed since then, although he supposes Dimitri would view that as cheating the nature of the promise.
"I know that's what I promised," Sylvain says, resting his hands on his hips. "But you know, I don't think I ever held up to the other end of that promise. I never took you on a proper date again, in my opinion. How can I break up with you and uphold that end of the bargain if another end is still faltering?"
It's a bit of a bullshit excuse, he knows, but it's one of the first things to come to mind that he can use here. Anything that can just keep the conversation going on longer, that can keep Dimitri out of his own head, away from the ghosts he begs and pleads with. Can Dimitri spot how much of an excuse it is? Or does he simply suspect everyone of trying to steal him away from the dead? There has to be some sort of reason behind why he bristles beyond just frustration on Sylvain not going along with this break up. "It hardly matters, if things are already being broken up with to start," he hisses.
Admittedly, that is the logical way of things. Sylvain wouldn't disagree with it, normally. However, this is a bit of an abnormal situation, and he won't let a little thing like logic get in the way. "I have my reputation to uphold, you know," he says simply instead, smiling at the way Dimitri's face crumples up in frustration. "I can't just break up with you so cheaply. It has to be at least a little better, and reliant on me failing in some way."
The cruelest but quickest method of denying him this opportunity would be to say that Sylvain failed when he couldn't do anything for Dimitri when he was first captured and framed for his uncle's murder. Dimitri... says nothing on that. All he does is glare at him for a while longer, shoulders tense underneath that bristling fur, before he whirls away.
Nothing more is said on the matter. At least, not by Dimitri.
Sylvain takes that as a win for himself, since he's not sure how else to take it and even he can only accept so many depressing losses. So even though Dimitri tries to give him the cold shoulder, doesn't look back at him that night, Sylvain still does his best to fill up the silence. He does the same for the rest of the month as well, although he can't make every night. There's just too much that they need to do, in all sorts of ways. They have to organize the supplies that Rodrigue's forces have brought with them, and there's still so much of Garreg Mach that needs clearing up or repairing, war tables to attend... Some days, Sylvain is so exhausted that he can't think of anything but laying face first in his bed.
Still, he makes an effort. He volunteers to bring Mercedes and Ashes' cooking over to Dimitri, casually chattering away at him until Dimitri snarls and shoves a handful of food into his mouth. He checks in on how Felix's ever constant vigil is going, makes sure that he doesn't burn himself out too much. Whenever they have to duck out for battle, whether it's chasing off wannabe bandits or going off to make sure that Annette returns safely from her uncle's place, he double checks on Dimitri's health, what injuries he might be hiding from others.
Does it do anything? He's not sure, honestly. He likes to think that it all is starting to help pull Dimitri together bit by bit - the reunion of them all together, Rodrigue knocking him out of his orbit a little, Byleth's attempts, Sylvain trying to look out for him... And, especially, Dedue joining them at Myrddin, Byleth pulling Lorenz out of his own idiocy and the Empire.
Dedue more than the latter has a bigger impact, Sylvain has to admit. He can see it, clear as starlight, just watching them from a distance away, how Dimitri softens and despairs gently at the fact that another soul is still living instead of having died for him.
The war needs to end as soon as possible so that all the sufereing can be put to an end, and recovery can start... But in a way, Sylvain wishes that things could go slower. That they could keep adding up these various encounters until Dimitri stops listening to the dead, and turns his eyes back to all of them.
With the battle that is up ahead of them, that unfortunately won't be the case. Not with how Edelgard takes up all of his thoughts.
Still, while Dimitri doesn't seem to pay much mind to Lorenz's presence in the ranks and it doesn't seem to affect his mentality at all, Sylvain ends up surprised that it's quite different for him. Lorenz ends up searching him out one day, while he's hauling away some rocks from a wall that had fallen apart at some point in its long abandonment. "Allow me to assist you," he says, which is probably a sign of growth, or something. The Lorenz of his youth would surely have never dirtied his hands with such menial labor, and certainly would have been glad to leave Sylvain to suffer back breaking work.
Well, who is he to decline an extra set of helping hands? And it's probably for the better to get Lorenz to work as soon as possible. He's probably been too cozy, hanging back in the Alliance, or working for the Imperials. "Well, I'll get the wheelbarrow then while you keep stacking them up," he says casually.
Dragging him off of his horse at the bridge really has seemed to change Lorenz for the better. He doesn't complain even a little bit, just gets straight to work. Or maybe it's just that he has something else in mind that has him on his best behavior. Sylvain waits to see what it is, and doesn't have to wait very long. "So it appears that the Kingdom is still making a comeback," he says, wiping a bit of dust away from his face. "Are you certain it will be alright?"
"Who knows," Sylvain says, because that's the simple truth of the matter. Another grunt as he gets another chunk of rubble into the wheelbarrow. "But there's no way that we can just back down now. Especially after seeing how Cornelia treats everyone... Well, Edelgard had a pretty face, but I guess her personality wasn't as up to par, with how she's entrusting someone like that with such an important area." It's honestly kind of disappointing... He knows that Dimitri has a personal reason for wanting to see Edelgard dead, with the reveal of who she was, and everything she had a hand in, like Remire and the attack which started this whole war.
At the same time, Sylvain can't help but have some feelings on it all as well. It wasn't as though they were ever close friends or anything; Edelgard was one of those who was smart enough to stay away from him and, as the future Emperor of Adrestia, had no use for getting close to him anyway. Maybe because of that, he was able to take in a good look on her own actions. He always thought maybe it'd be a good thing, for her to take the throne. That, much like with Dimitri at the head of Faerghus, it'd be the sign of a new wind blowing for Fodlan.
It would be more accurate to call Edelgard a tsunami, now.
The only thing Sylvain can't tell is why. Edelgard's declaration about the church had sounded nice and all, but it didn't sound right. And if she was just making a charge at the church alone, well, that would explain why she's trying to tear down the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. It shows a complete lack of understanding about Dimitri, considering she never even gave him the time of day no matter how hard Dimitri clearly worked to make friends with her, but, on a surface level, it makes sense.
Going after the Leicester Alliance is what doesn't make as much sense, not with that logic. The Alliance's relationship to the church has always been lukewarm, and such a gathering of nobles wouldn't leap into helping one side or the other so immediately... Not unless there was something that would directly affect them.
So why push at them? Sylvain hadn't heard of anything that would make them inclined to siding with Faerghus, especially a Faerghus that had seemed like it was on the brink of collapse with only a couple of lands that were able to fight back properly. With no other information readily available to him, Sylvain has to admit that the reasons seem more greed focused than anything else... Which seems like a cheap explanation, but it's not as though Edelgard has been clear with any other one.
Needless to say, it's pretty frustrating.
Lorenz takes a moment to take all of that in, his lips thinned somewhat. Up until not that long ago, after all, he was on the side of that Imperial army. Even for someone determined to change, it can take a while to do so easily. "How bad is it, up in Fhirdiad, then?" Lorenz asks at last.
For the people down in the Alliance, especially a distant place like Gloucester, of course they wouldn't have heard as much about the common troubles happening in Faerghus. They had their own problems to deal with. Sylvain considers what to say for a moment as he loads more debris into the wheelbarrow. "A mess," he says, eventually. "It's practically a disaster. We haven't been able to really get up close and see things for ourselves... But Rodrigue has some people who report back to him with information, now and then. The conditions are almost worse than they were during the plague."
People struggling in squalor, food taken for the war effort instead of being given to those who raised it in the first place... It's nightmarish. And there's Cornelia, living it up in a stolen castle, while the rest of the country falls to ruin.
Sylvain has to wonder if Edelgard is proud of the state she's reduced the kingdom to. All the innocent people dying of starvation and illness because they aren't being looked after like they should be. Cared for, like they should be. Is this the future she envisions, for all her grand words? Sylvain wishes any of them could ask her, let alone get a straight answer out of her.
It's clearly something Lorenz thought was possible but hadn't quite accepted, judging by his grimace. Or maybe that's just from the effort of helping clear rubble. "And you truly think Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd will be the better option?" he asks.
Ha. That's the question he's been hearing over and over again, in quiet whispers, or furious arguments in rooms where the occupants hope there's no one outside to hear such things. Sylvain can understand the frustration and confusion, the question that's being asked. For a lot of people who don't have such personal and intimate connections to Dimitri, this is really just because he is a rallying point - a part of Faerghus that was unjustly stolen and besmirched, something that they can put back into place and magically solve all the problems. Maybe it would be better if someone like Rodrigue would take over, or even Byleth...
But, politically speaking, that would cause just more division. You'd have the loyalists to the crown, the people who might still want to side with Cornelia for whatever reason, anyone in Rodrigue's camp, anyone who would just want to go against some random mercenary of unknown origin like Byleth...
So it's better, on that level, to keep things simple, at least for right now. And, honestly, Dimitri has a point in that if they somehow miraculously did take down Edelgard immediately... Well, it would certainly cause quite an upheave in the war. Better or worse than just going to reclaim Fhirdiad? That's the thing that people continue to argue about.
Politics aren't why Sylvain is here, though. He's here for just one simple reason: promises made that he intends to keep. to his friends, and to Dimitri.
"I do," he says with a grunt, dumping another bit of rubble into the wheelbarrow before he walks around to its handles. There's no use in loading it up anymore, not if they want to be able to use their limbs the next morning. "He'll get better. Killing Edelgard isn't going to solve any of our problems, but ending the war will do a lot. You just got here, so you don't know that he was worse." They've really been making strides... Sylvain is positive of it. It was just hearing that Edelgard would be participating in the next battle that got him all worked up...
Killing her won't really solve anything. He meant that. Yet if they can just get this obsession away from him... Sylvain is positive once that's taken care of, Dimitri will have taken another step away from this hole he's sunk into.
It hasn't hit him that he's lost in his own thoughts, working on what else they can do to help pull Dimitri back on track, until Lorenz speaks up again. "Sylvain... I really must apologize to you, although it is quite a few years late."
Sylvain stares. He wasn't sure what to expect from this conversation from the start, but it sure wasn't that. "Huh," he says, mouth running on autopilot to buy his brain some time. Really, far from the worst thing he's ever said for that purpose. "I mean, I guess I'll take any apology that I'm given, but for what?"
"I always put down your dedication and romantic feelings towards His Highness," Lorenz says, with a shake of his head. "It was outrageous to me that you would win our bet by not only wooing a man, but daring to play with the feelings of someone like a crown prince, especially one whose reputation was so fine. And yet, seeing how you still act even now after all these years... Even if the road head of you will be difficult, as a noble, I hope that your romance ends as well as it can, and I apologize for the disparaging remarks I made of it in my youth."
Wow. "I didn't think you'd ever say anything like that to me in your entire life," Sylvain muses as he pushes the wheelbarrow along, Lorenz walking alongside him. "Although if we're apologizing for things... I should probably do the same to you, Lorenz."
"Why, whatever for?"
You know, Sylvain always sort of figured he'd take this particular dumb secret to his grave, if only because the grave was a fifty-fifty sort of thing on the battlefield, and he hadn't really seen Lorenz for five years for obvious reasons. "I was lying, when I won that bet," he tells him. "That whole thing I did - you remember, when I flirted with Dimitri while he was having tea? That was a set up. I managed to convince him to go along with it, before that day, and I'm half sure he agreed just to make me shut up." A second's pause, and he adds, "Whatever you might have heard from Annette back then, I was just bugging him, and she misread the situation."
On the bright side, whatever else, the look on Lorenz's face as he stares at him is fantastic, Sylvain has to admit. "But - the pair of you went on a date afterwards!" he exclaims, when his tongue finally remembers how to fold sounds into words.
"Yeah, because I would make a piss poor flirt if I didn't take someone out on a date, and that's the whole point," he stresses. "That whole bet never really got resolved for real, I just was getting embarrassed at how badly we were both doing." And apparently, so had Dimitri, with how he'd agreed to go along with it.
There is something just truly beautiful about how Lorenz's brain is failing him behind those wide eyes of his. Sylvain takes his time in enjoying it, which actually proves to be something of a mistake. All too soon, something seems to snap into place for Lorenz, and he frowns, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at Sylvain. "From what I recall of our schooldays," he says slowly, "you never particularly engaged in much flirting after that. And His Highness was quite close to you then, too."
If he can just stop being an absolute idiot beholden to his father, Lorenz might actually turn out to be a half decent head of his house. Sylvain can't believe that he actually remembers an insignificant detail like that. The excuse he'd had prepared at the time - not that anyone ever actually asked - was that there was just too much happening and he could never get a good date going.
Somehow, he doesn't think that excuse will fly right now. Well... He supposes there's no point in hiding it. "Dimitri insisted on trying another date," he says, eyeing a small couple of stone steps that don't look like they'll be particularly fun to go down. "Wouldn't listen to me when I tried to talk sense into him."
Lorenz does him a solid - not by stopping the conversation there, because no one ever does Sylvain that particular favor, but by going along the side of the wheelbarrow and gripping it with his hands. "There we go," he murmurs as the two of them being the trip downwards. It's only when the wheels are on solid ground again and Sylvain's teeth aren't rattling around in his jaw that Lorenz glances to him suspiciously. "And why on earth would you have to talk sense into him?"
"Because... I was trying to break up with him?" Sylvain repeats slowly, raising an eyebrow.
Apparently that's the wrong answer, considering the way Lorenz gives that dramatic and hoity toity kind of sigh Sylvain privately made fun of him for back when they were in school. "To break up, one only need a single party to say that they have no interest in the relationship anymore," Lorenz says, as though he's explaining basic arithmetic to a child.
That tone would kind of annoy Sylvain on any other day, and it still sort of does... But, with a grimace, he has to admit that Lorenz has a point. Back then, if he really wanted to, he could have turned Dimitri down gently, and maybe even have worked his hardest to find someone that would return the kind of love he was so capable of producing back then. Can still produce, surely, if they can just get him out of his own head. "Man, since when can you claim to know me so well?" he complains, just so he can avoid giving any actual and set answer.
Still, they both know that Lorenz has hit his mark there, without Sylvain having to admit to it. Honestly... It kind of stings. Was he that obvious? Either way, Lorenz just nods to himself, and they dump the rubble over in the pile that's only gotten larger in the months that they've all been staying in Garreg Mach.
"Regardless, however much of a conniving fiend you might have been in the original bet," Lorenz says as they swat the dust off of themselves, "I must admit you to be loyal, Sylvain. In that case... I am certain that one day it will be properly rewarded and understood. Perhaps what you say is true, and the end of this war will have us see an actual good king."
Perhaps or not, the only thing to do for tricky situations like this is to work towards making them what he wants them to be. Sylvain knows that much as a truth of the world, even if he feels as though he can't change anything at all.
So he continues to try and convince Dimitri into eating, continues to watch out for any wounds Dimitri can't quite hide, continues to watch out for him as best a protect he can be.
He continues to sit with him, talking to him all throughout the night as though they were once again a pair of schoolboys sharing a bed together while only the half hidden moon stayed as a testament to the things that happened between them. He talks, all the way until Dimitri chases him away.
Such little things cannot stop a war from progressing, unfortunately, and Gronder draws a tension throughout every single soul in Garreg Mach. What else can Sylvain do, when they finally march out? All he has is his armor and his steed, routing enemies away from a boy he loved very much, a man he hopes to save, even as that person charges forward recklessly.
All he can do in the aftermath, when one last body falls even when the battle has ended, is search out those most affected. Search out Dimitri to no avail, search out Felix only to be turned away.
There's a saying that one can only dig so deep before two things happen: they find they've made their own grave, or they realize they can only go back up. After everything that's happened... After that one last miserable death, of a flawed but decent man, things finally turn around.
They turn back to Fhirdiad.
They turn back to helping their allies, in Derdriu.
They turn back to fighting the kind of war they should have been fighting, and getting the sort of victory that was necessary.
Dimitri turns back to him.