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The monastery is even more unfriendly at night, the large stone towering into the darkness further than he can see. Claude can’t say he’s particularly fond of walking around in the dark, but failing the test tomorrow just wouldn’t do. He’d have just borrowed the textbook from Linhardt, who probably had most of the library’s collection stored away in his room anyways, but he was out on a mission by the coast and wouldn’t be back until the next morning.
Everything feels clearer at night. There’s an owl that’s found its way inside, perched somewhere amongst the high hallway ceilings and calling into the empty space. The smell of the old leather and dust is much stronger, even the scent of candle wax as Dimitri reads a book in the farthest corner of the room reaches him as he opens the door. Claude doesn’t see Dimitri around as often as he used to, but he’s unsurprised to find him here at this hour.
“Trying to get some studying in?” he asks, making it closer to Dimitri than he expects, right by his side and looking over his shoulder at the scrawl on the pages.
Dimitri doesn’t jolt in his seat like Claude was hoping he would. He just looks up from the book and then at Claude like he’s seeing right through him, which Claude figures he really most likely is.
Dimitri frowns. The shadows under his eyes seem that much more pronounced with all the creases and in the low light. “Oh, it’s just you, Claude.”
“Just me?” Claude scoffs. “Don’t you think it’s about time for you to turn in?”
Dimitri looks at the stack of books in front of him—many of them the older ones that Seteth has kept on the higher shelves, frayed at the edges by age and the dankness of the library—to look at Claude rather tiredly.
“Well, there is a lot I could say as to why I happen to be up here, but I will settle for asking you the same. Shouldn’t you also be asleep at this hour?”
“With that test Hanneman’s giving us tomorrow? Of course not.” Claude had heard that Dimitri could often be found skulking around at night, wandering around the cathedral or the knight’s halls and thinking out loud to himself. Apparently the guards all came to an unspoken, unanimous decision to leave him alone.
Or maybe skulking around isn’t the right way to put it. It doesn’t describe the grace of a future king, especially one that managed to carry himself like Dimitri did. Stately at times and with his back straight, even if the paleness of his face grew more and more apparent every time Claude saw him around.
“I’m guessing I can’t convince you to call it a night, then.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then at least make some space,” Claude says, pulling up a chair. “I think you’ll find that this will be less of a chore with some good company, whatever it is you’re doing.”
Dimitri blinks at him a few times before breaking out into a small smile. “Thank you, I would love some company,” and he moves his chair over to make way. “Though I doubt this will become any easier to parse through.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Besides, I’m not here to distract you for once. I’ve got studying to do.” He pats the cover of a tome, something about the source of magic or something, with a sigh and sits down.
Time passes slowly and quietly. Claude came to the library to study and he’s not particularly opposed to the idea, but something much more interesting is sitting next to him and has started rubbing a hand through his hair in obvious frustration.
“Sorry to interrupt you,” Claude lies, “but how do I pronounce this?”
Dimitri looks up from a piece of parchment located in the inside cover of the largest book Claude has ever seen, and squints at where Claude is pointing at. He forgets there’s pigment on his nails, can’t remember if it’s from Ignatz or Hilda, but Dimitri doesn’t comment. He just says, “Druid. Like a magician, or soothsayer of sorts.”
“You mean, like, a draoi?”
Dimitri looks surprised, but then he starts smiling. “That’s an old way of saying it. I don’t hear that language much anymore, it was mostly my father who would speak it with his colleagues. I can’t imagine where you would have heard it.”
“Well, if I’m to be a proper duke, I need to subtly appeal to the future king’s senses. How else will I get you to do me political favours?”
Dimitri only chuckles, but doesn’t turn back to his books. “You’re a bit off, you’re saying it too much like you would ‘tree’. I appreciate the thought, though, let alone the effort.”
Claude wants to roll his eyes. Leave it to Dimitri to ignore his being blatantly disingenuous, even if Claude did stay up reading more books on Faerghus than Adrestia. But Dimitri didn’t have to know that.
“I haven’t thought about such things in so long, I’d nearly forgotten they exist. Or, existed, I suppose.” Dimitri trails off into that forlorn manner of speaking he has, and Claude tries not to frown when he hears it.
“You’re welcome,” he says. “We were a part of the Kingdom, but the differences are interesting. Next thing I knew I was reading up on the various ways milk could be used in Kingdom soup dishes, which is a lot more than it should be, if you were wondering.”
“I have to say Claude, when we were younger you never used to strike me as much of a reader, because we were always running about. I should never underestimate how smart you are.”
Claude is immediately caught off guard. Of course he’s smart, but maybe seeing Dimitri less and less as they grow older, even now that they live in the same place, has caused him to forget how disarmingly sincere he is.
“I’m here the same as you, aren’t I?” Claude says after a second too long. He’d be damned if he fell into Dimitri’s pace and said something unnecessarily emotional or vulnerable, whatever it is Dimitri seemed to inspire whenever he opened his mouth.
“Yes, well. I didn’t mean any offense. I’m not reading these books because I enjoy it.”
“Oh don’t worry, I know. I think most of us at Garreg Mach are under the impression that you don’t really enjoy much.”
Dimitri looks sheepish at that. Claude really wants to smooth out the creases in his face with his fingers. There was a time when they were all children—even Edelgard—and because of their positions they’d end up at the same boring meetings alongside their parents, and they were young enough for Claude to be able to convince the other two that they could worry about their duties when they were older, and now was the time to find a secret room and make off with all the pastries being served to the lords, or climb the large tree out in the back with the ripest fruits all at the top.
Claude definitely sees the two of them around, and they’ll always stop to entertain him if he asks or vice versa, but something has fallen out of place. Looking at Dimitri’s pallid face and thin smile makes him realize how much things have changed.
“That’s not true,” Dimitri pipes up.
“What?”
“I do enjoy things. I am enjoying myself quite a bit right now, in fact.” There it is again, the sincerity. Claude laughs.
“How flattering. I should hope talking to me is more fun than reading...” Claude pauses to thumb over the title of one of the books on the table, “a registry of all the vendors at Garreg Mach Monastery. I didn’t even know there was a registry for this sort of thing, and I definitely don’t know why you’d be reading it.”
That isn’t entirely true, it’s not like Claude isn’t also suspicious of maybe everybody in the monastery, but he lies for humour’s sake. Anything he can use to steer the conversation into something lighter. The heaviness that comes with talking to Dimitri has always been something Claude has understood and more often than not, had been a useful tool to make fun of him. Now it’s become something much more grim, an unfamiliar undercurrent when he smiles.
Dimitri doesn’t respond to Claude’s joke. Eventually he just says, “I’m not distracting you from your studies, am I?” and Claude just shakes his head and pretends to read.
Dimitri doesn’t go back to reading either. He rests his elbow on the table and lolls his head against his hand and watches Claude as he studies. Claude is unsurprised when he starts to hear snoring.
It’s very late, so Claude puts the books—all of them—away and sits down. He can’t really leave Dimitri in the library on his own, but he doesn’t want to wake him up either, so he passes the time by running through magic terms in his head and looking at Dimitri’s body rise and fall with his breathing.
His sleep is fitful. Claude finds that this is also unsurprising. He doesn’t even flinch when Dimitri ends up leaning against him as he sleeps, and starts running through different ways to seem unaffected by this whenever Dimitri wakes up. He settles for placing a hand on him when he tries to get up, and does just that when Dimitri flies upwards in his seat after an hour and doesn’t look him in the eyes.
“My apologies,” Dimitri says.
Claude ignores him. “You can go back to sleep, you know.”
“No I, I really should be going.”
Claude frowns at that, but lets Dimitri up.
“Bad dream?”
“No,” Dimitri says. “No, actually that was the best I’ve slept in a long time.”