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Day 17 of the Blue Sea Moon, 1175
The smack of wood rings throughout the training yard as Felix parries yet another of Dimitri’s attacks, casting it aside in one smooth motion before he closes in for an uppercut. Dimitri steps back to avoid it, but it leaves his flank open, and Felix draws his sword down just as swiftly, only for his weapon to unexpectedly glance off Dimitri’s when the prince twists his wrist in time to catch its trajectory.
“You’ve been practicing,” Dimitri says.
“I have,” Felix replies, and the tinge of pride in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’m going to beat you fair and square.”
Dimitri thrusts his sword forward and Felix is thrown back a few steps, his boots scraping jagged patterns into the dirt. Felix readies his sword again, his jaw set, his lips pressed into a firm line. But the sun bears down on him, highlighting the beaded sweat upon his brow. The days are warmer now, ideal for training, and yet Felix is going too far, moving too fast, pushing too hard.
He lifts the sword above his head for a frontal attack, but Dimitri deflects it and sidesteps the desperate swing which follows. Felix carries the momentum into another strike aimed at Dimitri’s chest, quick and certain, and it lands with enough force to make Dimitri stagger – but Dimitri soon plants his feet and wedges his sword underneath Felix’s, shoving it back until Felix is left standing a few paces away from him.
Felix breathes hard. His sword shakes in his grasp. Yet, he rears back to take another swing, and in his haste, his boot skids along the dirt until he stumbles and falls. He catches himself halfway down at an awkward angle, and he hisses through clenched teeth when he finally hits the ground, legs outstretched and sword abandoned.
“Felix!” Dimitri tosses aside his own sword as he scrambles to kneel beside his friend. “Are you all right?”
Felix draws his leg in close and grimaces. “It’s nothing,” he grits out.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Dimitri says. “What hurts?”
Felix slowly rakes his fingers back through his hair. “My ankle,” he relents. “I think I twisted it.”
A couple loose bangs fall back over Felix’s face as he lowers his head and stares down at his leg, now turned sideways to relieve pressure from his ankle. Dimitri eases Felix’s boot off and slowly pushes up the cuff of his trouser leg, mouthing a quiet “sorry” when Felix gasps from the touch. His ankle is already tinged with red as it begins to swell. Dimitri looks up at Felix’s face and catches his expression marred by a suppressed wince.
Felix doesn’t cry much these days – certainly not like he did when they were younger – but the telltale signs of tears lurk in the lines at the corners of his eyes and in the flushed hue of his cheeks.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” Dimitri says.
Felix looks away. He quickly swipes a hand over his eyes and murmurs, “I have to if I’m going to get strong enough to…”
It trails off into an aggravated sigh.
“Felix…” Dimitri hesitates there, then quietly adds, “I’ll take you to the infirmary.”
He offers a hand, but Felix waves it off, planting his own palms upon the ground as he tries to stand.
“I can do it myse— ow!”
His face twists and contorts with pain, and Dimitri winces along with him. It’s hardly Felix’s worst injury – he has years’ worth of contenders for that particular title – but it’s the frustration which gives him away. Sweat courses down his temples in narrow rivulets. His breaths still come in heavy and haggard. His fingers shake as they curl into the dirt. But he keeps looking down and hiding his face.
At some point, their sparring sessions had lost their good nature, morphing instead into a means for Felix to test his strength. Dimitri misses the way it used to be – the way Felix used to smile through every swing and laugh about the time they spent together, rather than grit his teeth through the strenuous endeavor it has become.
He doesn’t always have to be so strong.
So Dimitri scoops him up into his arms and carries him.
“H-Hey!” Felix stammers, squirming in Dimitri’s hold as his legs dangle. “What are you doing?”
But Dimitri stares straight ahead as he heads for the nearby corridor. “Sorry, Felix, but it’s easier this way,” he says simply.
Felix pushes against him and yelps, “Put me down!”
“I will… once we get to the infirmary,” Dimitri says.
He glances down at Felix, at that familiar pout, and a fond smile stretches across his face. It seems enough to ease the tension, as Felix then relaxes in his hold, if only slightly. Not that Felix would admit to it; he would likely attribute it to finally leaving the training yard, away from the prying eyes of any castle staff who might be looking on.
“Ugh,” Felix grumbles, “you’re so stubborn.”
“I could say the same about you,” Dimitri says, an airy laugh underscoring his words. “I remember how you used to poke fun at me for breaking my weapons. Why not put that strength to good use, right?”
Felix considers it for a moment, then lets out a long sigh. “Fine,” he mutters. “But this is the last time you carry me anywhere, okay? This is humiliating.”
Dimitri’s smile grows a little wider. “I promise.”
Day 30 of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1186
Victory comes with a heavy heart.
Dimitri leaves the Imperial palace and steps out into the light. The streets of Enbarr erupt with cheers as Kingdom soldiers raise their weapons high, spears and swords piercing through the horizon line which peeks out from between scattered buildings. It’s all so sudden. Sharp, like a bell’s thunderous ring echoing across the land, signaling change yet untold.
Yet, in the wake of such tempestuous change, the sun is shining down upon a new world.
He entrusts Areadbhar to the professor and heads into the city streets, where the soldiers hail him and the townsfolk whisper among themselves. But he pays no mind to the endless chatter: there is but one person he wants to see now.
He finds Felix standing in one of the main thoroughfares, sword still in hand, expression still steeled for the fight – but when their eyes meet, Felix’s shoulders relax and the deep furrow of his brow eases, just barely. It’s the closest he’s looked to peaceful in a long time.
Not that Dimitri would tell him so; Felix would certainly chide him for such a comment. Still, the war is over and the violence has ceased, and Felix deserves the peace for which he has so vigorously fought.
Dimitri smiles at him and says, “It seems all your training has paid off, Felix.”
“Heh.” A laugh lost amid a heavy breath. “Maybe you’re right.”
He collapses to a kneeling position, his chest heaving with every ragged breath, his sword clattering to the ground at his side as he finally releases it from his firm grasp. His hands shake, fingertips twitching against the cold stone path. He’s exhausted himself with every battle, pushing his limits until he’s at his breaking point and then treading precariously beyond it.
All for what he believes in. All for Dimitri’s sake. All for Dimitri himself.
Dimitri kneels beside him, and Felix looks up, no longer hiding the dulled amber hue of his weary eyes.
“Felix…”
“What?”
“You’ve always pushed yourself so hard,” Dimitri says softly. “To think, now we’ve arrived here… thank you.”
Felix stares at him incredulously for a moment, then sputters out a confused, “What?”
Dimitri chuckles. “It’s nothing,” he says. “Just… please allow me to return in kind all you have done for me.”
He takes Felix into his arms and carries him.
Felix is heavier now, all sharp angles and lean muscle, but Dimitri is stronger now, too. The scales may not have always weighed evenly, but it’s still a matter of balance between them. Nevertheless, Felix wriggles in Dimitri’s arms and pushes back; he’s somehow conjured up the energy to fruitlessly kick his legs in the air.
“Put me down, you boar!” he cries.
But Dimitri keeps looking ahead as he makes his way down the thoroughfare. He says, “Maybe once we return home.”
The sentiment isn’t lost on Felix. Home means many things now. Their lives have changed in a hundred different ways, their chosen paths diverging and coming together over and over again until eventually the long, winding road had led them here, now: bathed in the light of a new dawn for Fódlan, they still have this. Each of them has found a home in the other.
Felix surrenders and settles down, but he still folds his arms and pouts.
“Hmph,” he mutters to himself. “Stubborn beast. You forgot your promise.”
Something stirs in Dimitri’s chest, and he laughs through it. “Ah,” he says, “I suppose you did ask me to never carry you again. I promise this will be the last time.”
“It’d better be,” Felix says. “Any more of this and it’ll go to your head.”
“Is it truly so awful?” Dimitri asks, tilting his head slightly.
Felix scoffs at that, yet he concedes, “No.”
“I thought not.”
A moment of companionable silence passes between them, underscored by the dull roar of voices in the distance and the echo of Dimitri’s own footfalls. Felix watches him, how the light clings to the little creases at the corner of his eye and contours every angle of his face. Not so long ago, they were children testing their mettle. Yesterday, they were men facing impossible odds. Today, they’re simply themselves again.
There’s still a few knots to work out, a few uncertainties to be laid bare. But the sun shines brightly, and Dimitri’s eye glistens with hope – true, unyielding, sincere hope for the future, for Fódlan, for them. And now they have the time to figure it out, together.
Felix shifts within Dimitri’s hold and leans in.
“Carry me home, then,” he says, and takes Dimitri’s face into his hands.
It may be the last time Dimitri carries him, but it’s the first of countless kisses.