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Dimitri wraps his arms around Felix's torso, mindful of his grip. Tight enough that he will not slip from Felix's back, but not so tightly that he will hurt Felix. He has to be very cautious of his strength, always, but it has never felt more important. The absurdity of it all warms his face as Felix silently carries him past night shift guards. Dimitri is sure he will hear talk of it throughout camp in the morning. Nothing to be done when the duke wants his way. They will simply have to ignore the gossip. Perhaps he can ask Shez to help curtail the rumors.
The guards' forms shift into bloodied figures in the darkness as anxiety runs hot through Dimitri's belly, clawing their way toward Felix. Dimitri shuts his eyes and focuses on what he can sense. It has been the only method that helps when the world starts to go mad around him. The softness of Felix's cape beneath his cheek. The sound of Felix's slightly labored breathing and the rustle of Dimitri's feet dragging across the ground. The smell of Felix's hair and the sweat clinging to the skin between his neck and his jaw.
Without meaning to, Dimitri tightens his grip. He has to know that this is real, that Felix won't turn to ash from under him. Felix shifts and holds Dimitri more tightly in return, making a soft wheeze of effort. Dimitri's stomach knots as he wonders if he's hurt Felix. His armor must dig into Felix's torso.
“Get off me, Dimitri,” Felix says after a moment, loosening his hold. The sense of loss where he previously touched makes Dimitri open his eyes. They're inside the king's tent. He barely even noticed that they'd arrived and gone past the guards.
He slides off Felix's back and takes a moment to catch his balance, feeling the ground shift like a boat beneath him. He blinks, searching for the reassuring shape of Felix in the dark. For a moment, Glenn looks back at him.
Wind blows the tent flap aside, and outside torchlight flickers in Felix's eyes, back to their own warm brown instead of Glenn's blue. He looks up at Dimitri with an expression that Dimitri cannot quite name. Tired shadows color the skin beneath his eyes, but there's something warm in the way his eyebrows lift that hadn't been there before. He breathes a moment and rests a hand lightly on Dimitri's shoulder. Dimitri wants to lean into it, wishes he could feel that touch through his armor. He holds himself still, watching Felix.
“Promise me you'll get some rest, boar,” Felix says, eye contact drifting away from Dimitri's face, as it often does when he says something kind. “I didn't carry you all the way here so you could work until dawn. Don't even think of lighting a candle.” He rests his hands on his hips and it's all Dimitri can do not to laugh.
“You will be spending the night with me then, to ensure I obey?”
Dimitri knows he should not tease Felix like this, but it springs from his mouth beyond his control, and he feels himself smile as he looks for Felix's reaction. The dark tent does not reveal if a blush creeps across Felix's cheeks, but Dimitri knows his duke well.
There is a moment of silence in which the flickers of light reveal Felix's wide eyes and mouth frozen open with shock. Felix makes an aggravated noise and turns away from Dimitri to gesture at the pile of furs and blankets that makes up the king's cot. “If that's what it takes to ensure my foolish king actually sleeps, then so be it.”
Dimitri chuckles and starts to remove his gauntlets. The torture of his waking dream abates, if only for a little while. “As you wish.” Felix is still here, arranging the blankets on Dimitri's cot, even after seeing his most deranged self laid bare. Dimitri's hand twitches, and a buckle flies off the leather strap of his gauntlet.
“Hmm,” he says, feeling his own cheeks grow hot. “Perhaps Mercedes can mend that.”
“What are you doing?” Felix demands. A ball of light flashes above his upturned palm and floats above them. His training as a Mortal Savant has been going well, then, Dimitri thinks. Felix's hands push Dimitri's away. “Here.” Felix deftly lifts the fur cape from Dimitri's shoulders, then works on removing the armor from Dimitri's upper body.
“Felix, I do not need you to act the squire,” Dimitri says, holding his arms out and standing still like a scolded child. He can feel the tension creep across his body, tightening his stomach.
“Be quiet,” Felix snaps. “I won't have you breaking this because you insist on doing it yourself.”
Felix kneels to untie the armor from his legs, face fixed in a scowl. Dimitri feels a surge of emotion that he cannot name. “Thank you, Felix,” he says.
“What a headache,” Felix mutters. He stands and backs away from Dimitri to finish neatly hanging the armor on a rack. “I think you can manage the rest on your own, or do I need to undress Your Majesty as well?”
Dimitri pares down to a linen shirt and woolen hose, thankful that he does not rip anything with his trembling hands. “The last time you saw me like this, we were children. Do you remember how we once debated Loog and Kyphon's tactics through the night until we both fell asleep in your bed?”
Felix still isn't looking at him. Dimitri washes his face and hands in the basin he keeps in his tent, thankful that the cold water gives an excuse for his blush.
“Once I'm satisfied that you're asleep, I'm going back to my own tent,” Felix says. Dimitri dries his face and watches Felix fasten the tent entrance closed.
“Of course,” Dimitri replies, smiling. He cannot help himself. “Perhaps you should remove your cloak and make yourself comfortable in a chair. You may borrow one of the blankets if you are cold. I do warn you it may take some time for me to sleep.” He gestures at one of the wooden chairs circling the table piled with maps and letters.
Felix looks at the chair as he finishes his task, and his face does something complicated. “Fine. Now get into bed.”
Dimitri draws his tall frame under the pile of furs and blankets, watching Felix remain standing and still, as if a frozen statue. Felix swipes his hand in a gesture that snuffs the ball of light, hiding himself and Dimitri in the darkness.
Dimitri turns away, mind full of jumbled thoughts. Emotion itches at his eyes as he thinks of their childhood. It feels so far away now, like trying to see a reflection in a murky pond. Another lifetime.
He closes his eyes, afraid to sleep. The nightmares might alarm Felix. He hopes Felix will fall asleep or grow bored and leave, to spare him the sight of Dimitri thrashing with frenzied dreams and madness.
He hears rustling, and then the blankets lift and the weight of another body shifts on the cot.
“Move over, boar,” Felix growls behind Dimitri. “I'm cold.” Dimitri shifts his weight closer to the edge of the cot away from Felix.
“Are you sure?” he asks, voice cracking with alarm. “If I move about while I dream, I might hurt you. I've awoken on the floor before.” His eyes adjust to the dark and he looks at Felix, who lies on his back with his eyes firmly closed.
“I'll be fine, Dimitri,” he says.
Dimitri sighs and turns away from Felix again, ignoring the way his skin screams for touch. He clutches the blankets more tightly around himself. “Very well.”
How he misses the easy contact they once had, the effortless laughter and games. Before he changed and became what he is now. He starts to shiver. No matter how he attempts to control his muscles, he can't stop shaking. Tears well in his eyes as he curses himself.
And then, Felix's warmth presses against his back, and his arms circle around Dimitri, clasping him tightly as if he alone could keep Dimitri anchored.
Felix says nothing as he holds Dimitri, and Dimitri leans into the touch, breathes it, until his mind calms down.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
Lying in his duke's arms, he sleeps without dreaming.