m a j e s t y

❝ dimitri. ❞ his tone is a little bit more firm, but it still has a jovial edge to it. he knew the other house leader is just trying to come up with excuses, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll be long until he’s out of them.

           ❝ what do we need guarding from? just hurry up already! ❞ he then dunks himself under the water to swim around a bit, popping back up soon after. he laughs, obviously enjoying himself. he pushes his hair back from his face, then looks back to the blonde before reaching his hand out to him. 

❝ come on, my friend. come take a break with me. ❞

there’s a brief war across his brow: of want, of wish, of duty. claude has always been kind, if not playful, and dimitri has always been somewhat enraptured with it-- in his easy smiles and carefree friendship. it has never been something dimitri has particularly deserved, nor something he’d worked hard to earn, yet it existed no less and puzzled him so. he was glad for it, certainly, but would not betray himself by ignoring the expectation of a catch-- of some kind of battle needing to be won, some inevitable wound to dodge.

(  he could count on one hand the amount of people who still called him merely by name. the amount of people who would readily offer their hand, so. no tricks, no lies, no riddles.  )

❛ Well-- alright.   I suppose there is no harm in it. ❜

decision made, he braces himself against the trees rough bark, practiced fingers undoing latches, removing greaves, and lastly his boots. just the boots, uniform remaining impeccably intact despite further temptation. not entirely what his companion had asked for, but a compromise. bare feet seek joy upon blades of grass, footsteps drawing him closer to waters edge-- and quietly, he sits upon its bank. breeches rolled up to pale knees, toes delicately dip then trace the surface of the water: attention downwards and curious. 

❝ i dunno, your princeliness – ❞

             claude busies himself with neatly folding the clothes he had so easily shed. it was an odd juxtaposition given how quickly he’d decided to take off the garments once he’d confirmed that this little location against the riverbed was private enough for them both. ❝ aren’t you a little young to be worrying about everything all the time? ❞

once his clothes are situated, he jogs down to the water, dipping his toe in to test it out, then wades right in. he sighs in sweet relief, the water being inviting and refreshing after a long day on his feet.

❝ come on, dimitri! it feels great! ❞

 ❛ One of us must. ❜ 

He plays at a chide, despite the smile wonky and lopsided upon his face.

 ❛ Edelgard might return soon. ❜ 

An excuse.

 ❛ Ah-- It would be best for me to stand guard. ❜ 

And another-- a little wobbly this time, already running out of simple reasoning. As a boy, Dimitri would have been first in line to play; eager for the thrill of it, for the grins and laughter and joy. A splash of frozen water would prompt a child’s yell, a friends retaliation, an easier time, riddled an old nostalgia-- and the innocence that lives no more.

Crunch crunch crunch sounds the snow ‘neath feet-- as bitter as the winters chill and as ripened its touch upon reddened cheeks, there is a comfort in the feel of it. Blood as blue as ice, he is used to the trivialities of the cold; finds familiarity in its brittle fingers clutched about his heart, in the simple brutality of it. Born and raised a royal of Faerghus, regularly tossed into the wilds as way of testing child's mettle-- there is nostalgia in it, too.

And in this, he is content to remain follower to his companions lead, up to wherever he planned they go. Dimitri was no more royal here than the average farmhand, and in that there was gratitude. Here, he could pretend. Here, he could escape for a while-- for as much as ones shadows allowed, no less.

  ❛ Claude--! ❜  

There’s laughter in his tone despite how readily he frets: steel plated boots stubborn against the rivers bank, unwilling to shed the outerwear that the other house leader had so swiftly removed in cheer. They are in private, here. Forest leaves and tree branches shielding them from view from the road mere paces back, packs laid to rest against the grass, weapons tilted carefully upon old bark-- although Dimitri hesitates to leave them as such. 

For as much as the splash of water threatens to invite him in, well-- Someone had to keep them on track, surely.