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“Do something about it. It stinks .”
Felix should have kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t; his annoyance at the beast roaming the monastery grounds has reached a critical point.
Byleth gave him a curious look. Their expression was hard to read, a blank slate, with only a spark of interest in their eyes. Or maybe Felix was bad at reading emotions, especially from someone like the Professor - a person who was as expressive as a dead fish.
Byleth glanced at him for a long moment without saying a word, then moved their eyes to look at the thing by the ruined altar. The figure didn’t move except for turning its head to the side, its lips moving as if it was having a quiet conversation with an invisible person.
The cathedral was quiet; the beast scarred away most people from coming here. If someone wanted to pray they stayed far away from the ruined altar and the creature standing there.
Byleth narrowed their eyes just so as their gaze returned to Felix. “You’re right. He needs a bath.”
Felix scowled. He refused to look in the direction of the boar. It was enough he knew it was there. Sometimes he could see it walk through the monastery halls at night, muttering to itself, never paying any attention to Felix, even if Felix dared to approach it, never saying more than short commands that sounded more like animal growls than words.
“There’s an empty room near the greenhouse,” Byleth continued, their gaze making Felix uncomfortable. It was like the Professor was looking straight through him. “I will have a tub delivered there, along with buckets of water, soaps and towels.”
Felix twisted his lips. It’s a waste of time , he wanted to say. Byleth’s scrutinizing gaze kept him silent.
“Take him there in the evening and make sure he takes a proper bath,” Byleth said without blinking.
“ What ,” he choked out, staring at the Professor in shock. “You can’t be serious. I won’t take that- that thing and give it a bath.”
“He’ll listen to you,” Byleth said with certainty as if it was an undeniable fact. “In the evening most people will be in the dining hall, so you won’t be disturbed on your way there. I will tell servants to leave the door unlocked. You won’t be disturbed, I’m sure.”
“You must be mad. I’m not doing that.”
Byleth tilted their head, their eyes observing him in a way that made him uncomfortable. “Then why are you here, Felix? You’re already watching over him, you may as well help him out a bit since he bothers you so much.”
He scoffed. “Ask someone who likes taming feral animals.”
“It’s best if it’s you. I told you, he’ll listen to you.”
He opened his lips to protest but no sound came, the answer to his unspoken question as clear as day. Byleth would tell him about his duty to the Kingdom, and some other nonsense, and it would be just like one of his father's tirades. He could feel a headache approaching at the very thought of hearing yet another speech about the topic.
“Ask someone else. I don't care.”
There was a flicker of annoyance in Byleth’s eyes, a rare sight of a strong emotion. It was gone in an instant, their expression neutral once again.
“If you say so.” The Professor shrugged. “Everything will be ready for the evening anyway in case you decide to help him out.”
Felix twisted his lips. His eyes moved to the figure by the altar. Even from a distance he could see the boar’s dirty cloak, tousled, filthy hair, and, worst of all, a dark stubble on his pale face.
“And, Felix?” Byleth said. “Next time I suggest you find a different topic for our conversation. We don’t have to speak about your prince all the time.”
Felix scoffed, turning to face the Professor and tell them what he really thought about the ‘prince’ but they were already walking away. His gaze followed Byleth until they reached the large door and stepped outside. Annoyed, he glanced at the boar again, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
Buried deep under his irritation, he felt a pang of worry. Every time Felix came to the cathedral the beast was in the same spot by the altar. It was difficult to say if the boar ever slept or ate. Or when was the last time he did that. Byleth had managed to convince him to assist them in battle. The more he fought, the more exhausted and dirty he got.
Felix pressed his lips into a thin line. He would not be swayed by the boar’s pitiful state.
Hours later he realized that wasn’t entirely true.
In the evening the cathedral was even more quiet than during the day. Felix’s footsteps echoed between the walls as he made his way towards the ruined altar. The place was deserted. The priests had left as well, leaving only a lone figure at the front to keep vigil until sunrise. Those who wanted to pray to the goddess preferred to visit the cathedral during the day, perhaps hoping the creature by the altar wouldn’t attack when the sun was high in the sky.
Felix stopped behind the boar, his eyes narrowing at the state of the cloak on the beast’s shoulders. The fabric was so stained the crest of Faerghus was barely visible under the filth. The fur was so dirty it was difficult to imagine it was white before.
Byleth was to blame for this. Well, not for the boar’s state but for Felix coming here. He should have stayed in his own room, or better: he should have gone to the training grounds, the boar be damned.
“What do you want?” came a low growl. The boar turned his head to the side to look over the filthy fur on his shoulder.
“Come with me.” Felix said with a frown. There was no point in talking to this beast more than necessary. “People complain about your stench. You need to get cleaned up.The Professor had a bath prepared for you. Come.”
“Go away,” the boar grumbled before turning his head away.
The frown on Felix’s face deepend. If this fool thought he could ignore Felix like any other person who tried talking to him, he was gravely mistaken.
“Listen, boar, you’re coming with me or I will have your knights carry you. I don’t care if you lash out on them and make a scene. Your choice.”
The beast turned to face him. There was a flash of anger in the blue eye. Felix didn’t react, his glare unflinching. The stubble on the boar’s face was already turning into a short beard. Goddess knows when was the last time this thing had a proper shave , Felix thought bitterly.
The boar’s upper lip twitched as if it was preparing to bare its teeth and bite. Felix narrowed his eyes, his sword hand moving half an inch closer to a sheath strapped to his thigh. He could grab a dagger and cut down the beast in a matter of seconds. Would he do that - now, that was an entirely different question.
“It’s a waste of your time,” the boar said and for a heartbeat it sounded almost like a human being.
Felix pressed his lips together. There was a pang of a dull ache in his chest. He ignored it, balling his hands into fists. He would not be fooled by an animal wearing a mask.
You’re right it’s a waste of time, that’s what I told the Professor , he nearly spat.
“Come,” he ordered and turned. He began walking toward the massive doors of the cathedral.
Felix walked without turning. Incredibly, the beast followed.
He walked through Garreg Mach, eyes scanning for possible obstructions. If someone stopped him to talk, Felix would abandon this foolish mission. The boar followed him like a shadow or a dog on a leash. Perhaps Byleth had chosen that exact room to torment him, so he would be forced to parade the boar through the entire monastery and everyone would see Felix and the beast dragging behind him.
The wind was cold but it was nothing compared to the coldness Felix was used to in his homeland. He had left his coat in his room, choosing a simpler outfit for the task that awaited him: a shirt with long sleeves, pants and boots. A leather sheath was strapped to his thigh, concealing the only weapon he took with him: a dagger. He doubted he was going to use it; then again, without it he would feel bare. Besides, years of combat have taught him to always carry at least one weapon with him, no matter the situation.
He didn’t turn around even once. He could hear the boar’s heavy footsteps. Two servants scurried past them. When their eyes met Felix’s glare they quickened their pace, all but running away from him. Good , he thought. I’ve no time for idle talk.
Seeing the greenhouse Felix let out a relieved sigh. The room was unlocked just as Byleth had promised. Only then Felix finally had a look at the pitiful creature behind him.
“Get inside,” he instructed, holding the door open.
The blue eye narrowed at him. Felix held his gaze, his brows knit. If the boar suddenly turned away, he would drag him inside. He didn’t come all this way, wasting time that could be spent on training, so the boar prince could change his mind all of a sudden. Felix would not suffer through yet another talk with Byleth about the state of the animal.
He’ll listen to you , the Professor had said. Felix hated to admit they were right, somehow. And he certainly didn’t want to think how Byleth seemed to know more than they let on.
Once he closed the door his eyes scanned the place. A large wooden tub was placed in the middle of the otherwise empty room. There was also a wooden bench by a wall. The tub had been half filled with water. He dipped his fingers to check the temperature; the water was hot but not to the point that it would boil someone alive. Three buckets stood by the tub, all filled with cold water.
A fresh outfit for the boar had already been laid out on the wooden bench. It was a simple blue tunic, black pants, a long coat with fur around the collar and hood, and a pair of leather boots. Next to the clothes there was a pile of towels and washcloths, and a wooden box with soaps of various shapes. The box also contained a hairbrush and a razor. Felix scoffed at the naivety of the person who put them there. The boar didn’t care about basic hygiene so to think he would like to shave that ridiculous stubble or do something about that mop of hair on his head was simply foolish.
Byleth kept their word, preparing everything that was needed. Felix’s scrutinizing gaze returned to the boar who made no indication that he was even comprehending what was happening.
“What are you waiting for?” Felix gestured at the tub.
Of course the boar didn’t get the hint and continued to stare at the ground. Felix huffed in irritation. He approached with a few quick steps and looked up, mindful of the height difference between them.
“Take it off,” he hissed, briefly poking the fur on Dimitri’s shoulders. Up close he could see the cape the prince was wearing was in a terrible state, torn at the end, stained with mud, blood and goddess knew what else. “We don’t have all night.”
The cape landed on the floor. Dimitri didn’t make the smallest move to start unclasping his armour. As the member of the royal family he was used to servants helping him with dressing and undressing, not that he ever liked it from what Felix remembered. Dimitri used to do everything by himself while-
Felix frowned. It was useless to think how things used to be. He focused back on the problem in front of him. The sooner it was over the better, and if the goddess was kind he wouldn’t end up with a headache.
The boar’s apathetic stare was enough to confirm that he didn’t care about any of it. Felix cursed under his breath. If the boar wanted to be so stubborn and uncommunicative, then he shouldn’t allow Felix to drag him here in the first place and spare everyone the trouble of trying to make him look more presentable.
“Your gauntlets. Take them off,” Felix instructed. He pointed at the boar’s hands, disgust clear in his voice. He doubted the armour had been cleaned in the five years the boar prince had spent rampaging through Faerghus.
The gauntlets hit the floor with a thud . Again, Dimitri did only what he was told, nothing else. Felix resisted the urge to slap him. The dispassionate look on Dimitri’s face infuriated him to no end.
“If you bite me I’ll stab you,” he muttered as he reached for the clasps holding the shoulder piece.
The boar didn’t move, letting Felix unclasp the armour on his arms and chest. Felix put the pieces carefully on the floor. It would be a waste if they got damaged because of the boar’s lack of care. It was a fine work, the armour a perfect fit. He moved behind Dimitri to take off the back piece. His fingers brushed the Blaiddyd Crest as he couldn’t help but admire the detail included by the armorsmith. A question almost pushed through his lips. Felix shook his head; in another life he would see Dimitri try on the armour for the first time, he would know the person who made it for the prince. There was no point in asking a feral beast how it got the armour that was made for the crowned prince of Faerghus.
The undershirt Dimitri wore must have been new at some unspecified point in time. It was black to match the armour, with holes and stains that made it look no different than a rag one may use to wipe the floor.
Felix scoffed in disgust. “Take it off,” he waved his hand in the boar’s direction, indicating the rest of the armour and the clothes underneath it. “I’ll have the servants clean the armour but the clothes are beyond saving. The shirt reeks . The fabric looks like it’s rotting.”
Dimitri bowed his head, strands of dirty hair falling around his face like a curtain. “What does it matter?”
His voice was low and hollow. A dead man’s voice . Felix gritted his teeth.
“It doesn’t matter to you but it matters to those who follow you in battle. We will not win this war if the prince of Faerghus looks like a sick animal.”
“The prince of Faerghus is dead. Is it not what you tell everyone?”
The blue eye met his gaze. The frown on Felix’s face deepened, anger forming a hot ball in his chest.
“Unfortunately, people rarely listen to me,” he said through clenched teeth.
The boar scoffed, looking away. Felix felt a slight shiver in his hand, his will straining to stop his body from reacting. He had left his swords in his room but it would be easy to grab the dagger and plunge the blade in the beast’s heart, ending this torment once and for all.
Part of him welcomed the familiar feeling of anger at the man who wore Dimitri’s face. He had spent five years clinging to the idea that the boar prince was still alive. People had died so the prince could live. Glenn had died, abandoning Felix with a half mad beast that claimed to be Dimitri.
Now the boar prince stood in front of him, and Felix felt his hand wrap around the dagger hilt. He weighed it in his hand, gripped it so hard his knuckles turned white. The blue eye narrowed, fixed on the dagger in Felix’s hand but other than that Dimitri didn't react in any way as if he truly didn’t care he was unarmed and with half of his armour stripped off him.
Felix grabbed his undershirt with his free hand, tearing another hole in it as the fabric simply gave in under his touch and ripped. His eyes were on Dimitri’s face, watching for any sort of reaction but the man just let him , completely ignoring the blade in Felix’s hand.
Years of anger coursed through his veins, and Felix felt his entire body shiver with barely contained rage. Without the armour, only a thin piece of fabric covered the boar’s beating heart. If Felix focused, he could almost hear the beast’s heartbeat. Or perhaps what he was hearing was his own heart thundering in his chest. For a brief moment he saw a vision of himself plunging the blade deep in the boar’s chest. A feral animal was not fit to lead them to battle, yet alone to rule a country. It would be a mercy to put it down.
The eye that observed him had the same shade of blue like the eyes of a boy that used to play with him when they pretended to be Loog and Kyphon. The boy who used to apologise endlessly when he broke Felix’s wooden sword.
The dagger cut through the shirt, ripping it in half. Felix violently pulled it down, more fabric ripped, and it fell on the floor looking more like a rag than before. He put the dagger back in the sheath strapped to his thigh. The nauseating ache in his chest was almost too much to bear.
It was not the body of a prince but of a man who fought with death, each battle bringing him closer to death. Felix had his own scars, of course, but they were nothing in comparison to the bruised and battered flesh of the man standing in front of him. Lacking proper care, some wounds left ugly reminders of the time Dimitri had spent lost to the world. The scar in the middle of his chest was shaped like a cross. It must have been a deep wound, the blade cutting through his flesh with precision like a butcher’s knife skinning an animal. Perhaps the prince had been too exhausted to parry the blow; Felix couldn’t think of any other explanation as to why Dimitri would make such a foolish mistake that nearly cost him his life.
Felix hesitated, battling with another question he would not ask, allowing himself one more look at the myriad of scars and bruises on Dimitri’s skin before his eyes moved down. His own body was scarred after years of combat, but to see Dimitri exposed after all those years, and realise just how much he had changed made something twist in distress in Felix.
He ignored the slight shaking of his fingers as his hands moved to the belt on Dimitri’s waist. He felt a wave of anger at the thought of undressing the prince like some common servant (anger and embarrassment but he refused to acknowledge that), and he took a step back.
“Take the rest of the armour off and get in the tub,” he ordered with a glare. The kind of glare that used to make the boar prince look all apologetic and spout nonsense how he missed their friendship.
It didn’t seem to work on the beast that was in the room with him right now. Felix scowled and rolled up his sleeves. Without thinking about it too much, he grabbed one of the buckets. There was a flash of understanding on Dimitri’s face as he realized what Felix was about to do a second before cold water hit him. Whoever came here later to clean would have to thoroughly mop the floor.
Felix put the empty bucket on the ground. Although it was satisfying to see Dimitri gasp for air and tremble from the cold water dumped on his head, it did little to quell Felix’s frustration with the man.
“Get in the tub, greaves, boots and all if you want. Or I can dump another bucket of water on you and we’ll call it a day. The choice is yours, Your Highness.”
Dimitri huffed, hair sticking to his wet face. He shook his head like a dog, splashing drops of water all around him. There was a flash of fury in his eye, finally a change from his apathetic stare, then he scoffed and reached for his belt. Felix observed him throw the remaining armour pieces on the floor just like before, and turned away when Dimitri began unlacing his pants.
Felix walked to the bench to take washcloths and soaps. He cursed himself in his thoughts for the flush on his face, and blamed it on his anger. What else could it be, anyway, other than the irritation at the boar and his foolish behaviour.
Any other person would laugh at the sight of Dimitri sitting in the tub. It was comical to see him like this, with a scowl on his face as if bathing was the worst kind of punishment. There wasn’t much room for his long legs, so he kept his knees bent, his shoulders hunched. The tub was too small for him to lean back comfortably, and at that Felix couldn’t help an amused smile that tugged at his lips.
His expression neutral, he walked up to the tub.
“Forgot how to take a bath?” He asked and threw one of the washcloths at the boar sulking in the water. It hit him in the shoulder and fell in the water. Felix pursed his lips. Of course the stupid beast still wanted to make the situation needlessly difficult.
With an exaggerated sigh Felix moved to stand behind Dimitri’s back, a washcloth and a bar of soap in hands. The soap had a pleasant smell at least.
Felix hesitated, his hand holding the cloth milimetres from Dimitri's scarred back. The intimacy of the situation made him blush more than he wanted to admit. He should get it done without thinking, after all convincing the boar to step in the tub was already a big success. The problem was that the less he tried to think about the situation, the more he was overthinking. And part of his mind drifted towards some dangerous thoughts that should never exist in the first place.
It’s best if it’s you , Byleth had said.
Despite his current state the prince of Faerghus boar could be considered handsome by some people. By some crazy lunatics with a death wish, most likely. Given time and care the bruising would heal, and if he would just start eating properly he would gain more muscle, and the sharpness of his features would turn into a more healthy look.
Five years is a long time. The man Felix was looking at right now was significantly different than the one he remembered, the changes drastic, all softness gone from the prince’s face.
No it wasn’t the face of a man. It was a mask the beast wore to pretend to be the prince. Felix had to remind himself of that; it shouldn’t be so hard to remember at times.
Pushing past his thoughts, he started scrubbing his back. His touch was far from gentle. If anyone saw him now, they would think he wanted to add more bruises to an already large collection on Dimitri’s back. He could feel every scarred line on the prince’s skin. From the shapes he could guess the man had been lashed. Cornelia’s doing, most likely. Another thing Felix would not ask about.
The lashing must have been public. Obviously Cornelia would want everyone to see how she dealt with traitors, especially if it was the beloved prince turned murderer. The traitor prince must have been paraded outside the castle for all people of Fhirdiad to see. The scarring on his back suggested the torture had been long and thorough. To survive that kind of thing was a miracle.
Felix looked at his hands with surprise. He willed them to stop shaking.
To distract himself from unnecessary thoughts, he put the washcloth aside and grabbed another bucket. Perhaps dumping a second bucket of cold water on Dimitri’s head was cruel. He told himself he didn’t care.
The boar reacted with a growl, snorting and shaking his head. He turned, grabbing Felix by his wrist.
“That’s enough,” he barked with a frown.
“Then do it yourself.” Felix wrenched his arm from his grasp and threw the soap at him.
With an irritated grumble, Dimitri took it and began scrubbing his face.
After a while the water in the tub turned murky. Felix twisted his lips in disgust. Still, the boar was clean, perhaps for the first time in five years.
There was one more thing that bothered Felix.
“What’s with the beard?” He asked. He stood by the bench, arms folded across the chest, watching the beast in the tub.
Dimitri rubbed his chin with his large hand, then shrugged. Felix scoffed. Even now the boar was stubbornly making things difficult. Maybe one day he would learn to communicate with words instead of just growling or shrugging.
Felix glanced at the small box and its contents. Brushing the boar’s hair was out of question. It was enough that his hair didn’t look like a nest anymore. After Felix dumped two buckets of water on his head most of the filth was gone. That ridiculous stubble, however…
Felix took one more look at the razor. “Sit on the bench. I’ll take care of that stupid beard before people start calling you a Beggar Prince.”
He turned his back to the tub, busying himself with examining the razor. After a moment Dimitri padded to the bench and sat down, dripping water all over the floor.
“Cover yourself,” Felix hissed, throwing a towel at him.
Dimitri caught it in the air and for a moment they stared at each other. Back in the day, from time to time Byleth would drag their students to the sauna. The contrast between seeing Dimitri in the sauna all those years back, and seeing him now, was striking. The creature Felix saw now had dark circles under his eyes, an eyepatch covering his missing right eye. With his skin clean the scars on his body stood out even more, no longer hidden under a layer of filth. Felix took a breath; he could feel despair clawing its way up his throat. If he allowed it, it would make him say things he would later regret. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
The blue eye glanced at the blade in Felix’s hand. The boar let out a sigh, and wrapped the towel around his waist. Hands placed on his thighs, Dimitri waited.
Alright , Felix thought. His experienced hands could use any other sharp blade if needed but it was good to have an actual razor for the task.
“Straighten your back.”
Dimitri complied. With him sitting down, the significant height difference between them wasn’t an issue anymore, allowing Felix to have access to the prince’s face. The stubble looked terrible on him. Perhaps if grown it would make him look exactly like the late king; Dimitri was the splitting image of his father so Rodrigue claimed. For now the ugly beard gave Dimitri a ragged look of a man who didn’t take care of himself at all.
Felix took a breath, hesitating for a brief moment before he reached out to push strands of hair from Dimitri’s face. Curiosity took the better of him and he touched the eyepatch, pulling at the string. The lines between what he should do and what he wanted to do were thin, and it felt like he crossed almost all of them. Felix hesitated once more, his hand hovering above the side of Dimitri’s face. He had already ordered him to take off everything else, from the armour to the rags he wore, and the boar sat in front of him bare, with only a towel on his waist. The only thing Felix hadn’t removed was the eyepatch.
As if sensing Felix’s uncertainty, or perhaps seeing it on his face, Dimitri reached up. Their hands briefly touched when he grabbed the string and pulled. The eyepatch fell on the floor, leaving every piece of him exposed to Felix’s gaze.
The grotesque remains of Dimitri’s right eye looked worse than Felix imagined. He watched with morbid fascination despite uneasiness swelling in his chest. His lips opened to ask one of many questions he wanted to say. He was unable to form a sound around a lump in his throat.
The Relic his father had given him never felt more useless than in this moment when he looked at the hideous wound that used to be Dimitri’s right eye. What was the purpose of the King’s Shield if not to protect the crowned prince from harm? For all the talk about the duty of House Fraldarius, nobody protected the prince from losing an eye or getting whipped, or roaming the Kingdom like a feral animal hunting for blood for five long years.
Felix could not look at the missing eye any longer.
“Hold still,” he said in a quiet voice, moving to stand between Dimitri’s legs.
Holding Dimitri’s chin firmly, Felix inhaled, and tilted his head to one side. The stubble felt rough under his touch. He refused to think about the fact that for the second time tonight he stood so close to the man, with a sharp object in hand, and Dimitri simply let him. He would not dwell on these thoughts.
He concentrated on the task. His hands moved with precision drawing the blade over the skin. He turned Dimitri’s head to the other side. For a second he glanced at the wound that used to be the right eye. Something moved in his chest, leaving a dull ache that almost made Felix wince. Up this close, the eye looked even worse. He would not ask. He could only imagine how much it hurt if the remains of the eye looked like that.
The razor cut through the skin, making Felix instantly aware that he made a mistake. Seeing a drop of blood it was Felix who hissed and flinched, even though it was not his blood. Dimitri didn’t react although he must have felt the sting of the cut.
“Told you to hold still,” Felix hissed, his face stained with a blush.
The cut was tiny. He wiped the blood with his thumb but another drop formed and trickled down, the red striking against Dimitri’s unhealthy, pale skin. Panic rose in his throat and for a heartbeat Felix was frozen with an irrational fear. The prince had been bruised and beaten, he had lost his eye; the small cut on his face couldn’t ever compare to the blows he’d suffered. Yet this time it was Felix’s fault; no matter how small of a wound it was, the guilt was still there, worming its way to Felix’s heart.
Then the moment of panic was gone, fear replaced by a familiar anger. Felix frowned, grabbing Dimitri’s chin once again. He focused on the task, refusing to meet Dimitri’s gaze. He should have kept the eyepatch on his face.
“Don’t move,” he said as he tipped his head upward. Dimitri obeyed without question. He sat perfectly still, never saying a word about Felix’s trembling hands.
Once he was done he inspected the boar’s face with a critical gaze. Better , he thought, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction.
Before he could stop himself his hand trailed down Dimitri's chest, brushing the large scar shaped like a cross right above his heart. He could feel Dimitri's muscles tense under his touch. The razor was still in his other hand. He should put it back in the box, tell the boar to take the clothes left on the bench, and leave. It was done, his task completed. Yet Felix couldn’t bring himself to move, and they stayed in silence, one looking at the other.
His fingertips brushed the scar above Dimitri’s heart again, his hand moving on its own.
The blush on his face went a shade darker. There was a faint feeling in his guts, something twisting inside, long forgotten now burning hot. His gaze travelled up until their eyes met. There was a faint smell of lavender in the air from the soap.
A pair of hands moved to Felix’s waist. His sharp inhale seemed to echo in the silent room. His shirt was wet in an instant where Dimitri’s hands touched.
Why are you here, Felix? , Byleth had asked.
Felix took another breath. The razor in his hand felt like a heavy weight. His free hand was still tracing the scar, feeling the rough skin under his fingertips. In the moment that seemed to stretch to eternity there was so much emotion in the blue eye watching him. A familiar softness appeared on the face of the man Felix has known his whole life and who was returned to him after five years.
His hand stilled, pressed to the large scar. The hands on his waist felt like flames burning through his skin. For a moment Felix allowed himself this much, committing every detail to memory, from the expression on Dimitri’s face as he looked up at Felix with something akin to devotion, to the touch of hands gently squeezing his waist.
This one moment of weakness had to be enough. It was already too much.
Felix pulled his hand back, quickly, as if his fingers touched a hot iron. He took a step back, the touch on his waist gone, turning away from Dimitri’s gaze, and reached for a small box. He put the razor inside it, not bothering to clean it, then threw it on the bench without much care. He struggled to breathe, the steam and smells of perfumed soaps making him dizzy.
“Look at you,” he said, forcing himself to face the prince. “Your disguise is perfect now, boar. When you’re walking on two legs you can fool others into thinking you’re a real person, not a beast.”
His voice sounded more bitter than it should. There was a pang of hurt in the blue eye but then it was gone in an instant so Felix could pretend he never saw it in the first place. That apathetic, cold expression was back on Dimitri’s the boar’s face.
“Take the eyepatch. Don’t subject others to that sight. People won’t be able to eat if they see that eye of yours exposed.”
He stepped outside and began walking, refusing to turn back. The cold air chilled him to the bone even though the temperature was mild compared to a typical winter in Faerghus.
His heart hammered in his chest.
Felix ignored it.