sent by @slvrbnd
It had been years since they had last seen each other, months since dimitri had truly recognized his friend. & yet, when he looked at Sylvain now, it felt like no time has passed at all. Maybe his hair was a little less unruly. It suited him well. So maybe if Dimitri hugged him a little too long to make it appear like he was simply greeting an old friend - was that truly worth mentioning?
HE WAS FAR TOO WEARY AND WEATHERED FOR HIS AGE, and yet Sylvain felt a fatigue that was bone-deep that would not easily be lifted with sleep alone. For the span of five years, Sylvain held a selfish wish in his heart that someday soon, the fighting would break through their borders of Gautier and overrun their territories. That in the midst of fighting for Kingdom and Country, Sylvain would finally meet an honorable death and answer before the Goddess the various sins he committed in her name. Shame would swiftly kill these thoughts-- the image of Felix and Ingrid’s despair twisting their expressions brought him a sick sense of comfort. Even the rest of their little group within the Blue Lion’s house, the thought of their grief hurt him and brought relief. Yet what stood alone against the void of apathy was the thought of Dimitri.
Dearest Dimitri...a solemn beacon to help him solder on while the storm of war raged, hot and bitter and unforgiving; the solemn mad-king he had been since their dear Professor disappeared was a hard thing to watch. What was worse was that nothing that he could do, nor anyone could do, was to pull him back from the precipice of madness, not while Dimitri was hunted into exile by his own countrymen. Was it a wonder for Sylvain that he didn’t meet his end at the point of his King’s lance? Yet if Sylvain knew that his death would bring his King closer to sanity, he supposed Felix would forgive him for abandoning his promise.
(Not likely, but it is a vain hope nevertheless.)
All of this was introspective in the end; after the fighting began to plateau between the resistant fighters within the Holy Kingdom and the Empire, a chance to change the tide of the war came. Unspoken prayers of a miracle finally bore fruit as the Goddess blessed their efforts with the return of the Professor-- silent savior, holy and blessed --and suddenly it was as if time began anew. Forces unseen began to move in motion to the power of their will, of their hopes and dreams. And as all of this went on, Sylvain had taken a moment of quiet for himself and prayed that the miracle of the messiah’s return and the savior king would not be for naught.
--
He seemed better today.
There were days were Sylvain would observe from afar, as silent as a shadow though less haunting than the ghosts that tormented his King, and he would simply watch. It was hard to disguise the pity that swelled inside him, to see Dimitri so broken, so lost was a difficult thing to endure. It was easier to fight an enemy you could see and endeavor to kill what sought to hurt you and your kin. It was another animal entirely to battle a foe that lurked within the mind. Sylvain could only scarcely imagine the agony of battling phantoms on he could see. But it seemed that today he could put aside his unwarranted sympathy and approach Dimitri with optimistic caution.
Truthfully, Sylvain avoided coming into the cathedral out of principle rather than to avoid the stalking animal that built their den among the rubble and ruins of a this once beautiful cathedral. Despite the state of the building, the feeling of serenity that permeated the space brought some comfort to him. It wasn’t enough to help him forget what he’s done, nor help him forgive the trespasses that his enemies have brought upon him and his kin, but for now he could be at peace while standing in the same place as Dimitri stood.
“Evening, Your Highness.”
Spoken softly, his voice had no trouble reverberating against the hollow pillars of wood and marble. While Sylvain stood before Dimitri as a man, there was no guarantee that Dimitri was within his right mind to know he was a friend. He was more animal than man most days-- a fact that Sylvain had considered and discarded the moment he stepped past the threshold of the broken church to approach the haggard monarch. He was careful however. Words were spoken in quiet, his body was lax and as nonthreatening as he could possibly be given that he was dressed in full armor, while his gaze remained bowed as a gesture of respect. He would not submit-- that was to be earned, and it would be between him and the man, not the beast-- nor would Sylvain cow beneath the rancid glare given famous by him.
So when he received no reply, at first it was in suspicion that Dimitri did not hear him speak at all. He could deal with being ignored-- a safer alternative all things considered, given the volatile nature that Dimitri was under as of late-- but when he chanced to look up, his eyes met his visage and for the first time in what felt like decades, he saw the man. The connection that dawned upon his face must have been the invitation Dimitri was waiting for, because without a word the mad-king stepped forward and unceremoniously wrapped his arms around Sylvain in an embrace that parodied a greeting of close friends-- or perhaps even lovers.
Ah, now there was a thought.
“...”
For a long time Sylvain dared not to move, his body crushed against Dimitri’s chest making it bearable to breathe but offering no further giveaway to sever the embrace and escape. It was hardly his goal to begin with-- to talk perhaps, maybe even to coax him to join the rest of the group to eat some food, to accept the warmth and comfort that surely was needed by their King. Yet Sylvain could feel slight tremors wrack Dimitri’s body as he held him, and any sort of opposition died. How fragile, his King was...
He took care to raise his arms slowly from his sides before the encircled Dimitri, returning the embrace gently but no less tender and warm. Armored digits were a poor instrument in delivering affection, yet Sylvain did not cease in slowly gliding his hands up and down his back, rubbing soothing paths along his flank and spine while cooing nonsense that neither he nor Dimitri could really understand. The words weren’t what mattered, but rather the effect: I’m here, I’ve got you, You’re safe, You’re not alone, I’ll protect you--
I’ll never leave you to face the darkness alone-- never again.
“...Your Highness....Dimitri...”
His name was whispered on a sigh. It had been so long--- so very, very long since he last uttered his name. He could hardly remember regarding Dimitri so familiarly and intimately, though it hardly mattered now. For now, this moment between them where they clung and clutched each other, desperate and shaking and pleading without words was all that mattered, all that lay in the center of their world. Hues would slide closed, nose would nudge at the underside of his chin before Sylvain would sigh and lay their cheek against the exposed flesh. For in this moment, here and now, Sylvain was content. At last, he felt at rest. At last, he felt peace.
And when the moment between them faded and the man reverted back as the beast, Sylvain did not mourn him. He smiled instead and left with hope blooming small, fragile yet tender in his heart with the assurance that when the time was right, Dimitri would come back home.
And this time, Sylvain would be waiting and ready to embrace him without the trappings of war between them.
