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The king of Faerghus was asking to be escorted to an early grave; if it wasn’t his terrible eating habits, his too-soft heart, or just being so damn careless, it was going to be the duke’s temper (that the king was constantly antagonizing with the first three). It was almost astounding that Dimitri didn’t walk himself into the pit when Felix was handling business in Fraldarius, but that was likely because Felix was never away for long. Frankly, Felix had to wonder if Dimitri did this all on purpose so Felix wouldn’t remain out of his reach for an extended time—and if that was ever found to be true, he absolutely was going to kill that infuriating man.
It was probably some sort of record, too, that Dimitri had already fanned the flames of Felix’s temper to this degree—showing enough on the duke’s face that not even the night guards attempted to say a single word as he stormed down the castle’s halls. Even those stationed outside of Dimitri’s office had the sense to look the other way as he approached, enough said in the way the lines of their shoulders straightened, their chins leveling, like proper posture could spare them from the consequence of neglecting their duty to Dimitri’s wellbeing.
But their time would come later; right now, Felix had the source of their dereliction of duty to address.
He’d already had a series of tirades formed in his mind from the long walk here. Perhaps he would start with how hypocritical it was to incessantly request Felix’s contact in his letters, only to abandon the warmth of a shared bed the moment Felix’s consciousness slid into sleep. Or maybe he’d point out the fact that his nighttime endeavors were worth nothing if he couldn’t keep the nobles’ respect—which was absolutely impossible if he kept drifting off during council meetings. And there was always the basic fact that he would never inspire faith if he constantly looked like he was one second from falling over where he stood—every part of him just radiating exhaustion and ill-care.
Felix froze as his fingers wrapped around the door handle. That was the problem; this wasn’t always the case. When Felix had left him not even two months prior, Dimitri was okay. Sure, there were no illusions that he was completely free of the demons that plagued him, but he at least had been well. He’d been eating and sleeping well enough that it didn’t show in his face, and he’d held his own against both nobles (in the council room) and Felix (in the training grounds).
The man who had greeted Felix at the castle gates was not the same man he had left behind.
At one point, Felix would have thought the timing was simply a coincidence. Dimitri’s moods were of a whim more flippant than the Goddess’, and no one person could either predict or influence them. But that was sheer ignorance; even if Felix could not influence them, he was capable of handling them, of ensuring that Dimitri did not suffer in the process. If that meant forcing him to eat and sleep, then he simply did it. There was no reason talking around it, or softening the reality, or anything like that. Dimitri needed the help, and he would receive it—whether he wanted it or not.
He stepped into the room, letting the door slam shut behind him (last thing he needed again was Ingrid lecturing him about belittling the king’s position in front of his subjects). This time, Dimitri needed—
He needed—
Felix’s jaw clenched, his steps silent as he stepped across the room. The sight here was hardly a surprise. The candle at the desk appeared to have snuffed itself out long ago, the wax already stiff and hardened back into form. Papers were spread across the desk, one fluttering to the ground even now in response to a soft breath. And there, slumped over the desk, face hidden behind his arms (likely as he’d tried to make a pillow of them), was the target of Felix’s quickly-fizzling frustration.
He stepped closer, keenly listening in the too-quiet room for proof of his own point. But Dimitri’s breaths were near-silent, the man too exhausted to even snore. He’d probably simply collapsed mid-word, knowing him, and it was a miracle in itself that he didn’t have the entire desk and half his hair covered in ink. It was wholly likely that he’d fallen to slumber before the ink on the page had even dried, ruining the work that had dragged him into this state in the first place.
Felix sighed, fingers brushing against the desk and sliding the paper from beneath Dimitri’s hands. To his surprise, it seemed the page had been completed well before Dimitri’s current state—that, quite possibly, he had simply fallen asleep while reviewing it again and again. Felix couldn’t help but let his eyes skim over the words, only to find himself slow to comprehend their meaning. With a curse under his breath, he endeavored once more, and the second read was far less elusive.
“Sentimental fool…” Felix muttered, setting the paper back into its place. His fingers brushed against the wood of the desk as he stepped around it, tracing over the shape of Dimitri’s hand, his arm, his shoulder.
Perhaps he wasn’t that much different.
Dimitri let out a small rumble of a sound, shoulders shifting beneath Felix’s touch. Slowly, he turned his head, eye distant and unfocused even as it settled on the one that roused him. “…Felix…?”
Felix offered a scoff, though there was no way to completely obscure the small smile on his lips. “You’re far from where you should be.”
Dimitri’s lips curled, his eye flicking away. “I…”
“You can return to bed, or I’ll take you there myself.”
Dimitri’s small huff would have been annoyingly defiant, if Felix didn’t catch the small curve just at the edge of his lips. “I would like to see you try.”
Well. It wasn’t as if Felix was unused to making Dimitri do things for his own health. The man simply would be even less permitted to complain this time, especially when he’d welcomed it so.
It was clear that Dimitri came to understanding remarkably fast for a man still half-asleep. “Wait—Felix—you can’t—”
“You should learn there are consequences to your actions,” Felix said simply, as if he hadn’t just lifted the king in whole into his arms. “And I aim to teach you.”