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Dwyer should be asleep. He really should be. The battle had been long and fierce and he'd run through enough staves to wring his own magic dry.
Dwyer was dead tired, which meant a lot, speaking from his standards.
But... but he stared into the flames of their campfire. Someone had to take first watch. Someone had to stay up, just in case, after all that. If more of those invisible soldiers came crawling from the waters, if another body rose from the grave...
And Kana had fallen asleep in his lap. Wouldn't want to wake her. That'd be cruel.
Next to Dwyer, Kiragi cradled the Fujin Yumi in his hands. It was an odd bow, since it had no string. Dwyer had witnessed its destructive might, however. How that... that thing had simply grabbed the air, string and arrow appearing in windswept light.
It did not glow now, Kiragi's face only lit by the red flames, darkening the color of his blue hair. An usual day would see Kiragi make merry by the campfire. Talking to someone, probably Midori. Exchanging stories, or preparing his latest catch for Dwyer to cook. His mouth wobbling in a poor expression of flat, his eyes dead, was an expression ill-suited for him.
Kiragi's grip tightened around that legendary bow. His breathing had been quiet, even, like a hunter in the brush. Until it hitched, just once, and the dam broke.
It shouldn't be Dwyer here. It should be Midori, who had pushed through her own injuries to tend to others. It should be Rhajat, who had an arrow of wind slice through her waist. It should be... anyone else. Not when Dwyer's own throat was so dry, not when the flames kept on reminding him of that day.
"Run, Dwyer. Get your mother."
"But, I–"
"I said run! No objections!"
And that'd been that. Dwyer had run. He'd run to the schoolhouse, and gotten his mother, who'd rushed off to help together with her visitor. That Hoshidan man with a strange bow at his hip.
Dwyer was smart. He could put two and two together. He could figure out that the prince's odd rampage started after that goddamned day.
So, really, whose fault was it that Kiragi was sobbing into his hands now? Bow pressed to his forehead like it might give him comfort? What was he supposed to say? Sorry, I think I'm the last one who saw your father alive? Sorry, I think he died to save me? Sorry, that I'm here, instead of him.
At once, Kiragi froze. He blubbered, still, but tried to press it closer, hold it in. He put his hands on his lap and glanced at Dwyer in shame.
"I–I'm–, sorry, I'll," he sniffled, "I'll try not to wake Kana. Sorry."
That face did not suit Kiragi at all, no. But Kana hadn't stirred at the initial outburst, and not when Dwyer absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair. Instead, Dwyer gently raised their head from atop the blanket on his leg, bundled the blanket up as best he could, and slid her head off of him.
Without a word to Kiragi, who stared in something approaching confusion, Dwyer made for the nearby bag of cookware. As quietly as one could rummage through pots and pans, Dwyer retrieved a kettle, two cups, and a water skin, which he used to fill the kettle. After placing the kettle above the fire, Dwyer unceremoniously dropped down on the ground next to Kiragi. Not... Not too close. Still a forearm's worth of distance between them.
"...Nobody can wake Kana unless she wants to wake up. Or you suddenly shout that breakfast's ready."
True to his word, Kana slumbered away where Dwyer had sat previously. One blanketed cushioning her from the ground, one drawn over her body, and one folded under her head.
"Al-alright," Kiragi hiccuped. He'd put the bow down and now wiped his eyes in a display Dwyer could not stand.
"Here," he said, and waved a handkerchief in front of Kiragi's face. "You're a prince. Aren't princes supposed to have kerchiefs to hand to crying maidens?"
"M-maybe in Nohr. All my cloth's for wiping my weapons."
Kiragi accepted the kerchief. Instead of artfully dabbing at his eyes, he immediately blew his nose on it, folded it to cover the snot, and then wiped his eyes with it.
Then, Dwyer spoke those dreadful, fateful words, said by all who had no idea what to do in such a situation: "...Do you want to talk about it."
Kiragi stared at him like he'd grown a second head, but it at least stopped the tears and the sobbing for a moment.
"I... I love– loved hunting with my dad. I still remember the first time we went. I was crying, I think, or sad, or something like that, and he took me outside. We went out in the woods and he taught me how to hold a bow. We didn't catch anything, but it was... I loved it. The nature, the sounds, the smells. I liked it so much, I'd ask him to go again and again, and he kept teaching me until I could go on my own. He didn't shoot to hunt, really, so when I got really good at it, I started telling him about tracking animals and moving quietly and listening, and the butchering after. Sometimes he asked me to go outside instead, so I think he liked it, too. I love everyone at the castle, but it's too much for me sometimes, and my dad's probably the same way. Was. Was the same way."
Dwyer sighed. "...You never get used to it."
To the past tense. To something, someone, so familiar being gone. To the concept of forever.
"And I'm never gonna get to do that again!" Kiragi raised his voice, and quieted just as abruptly. "He's not gonna correct my posture, or congratulate me on a catch. He's not... He's... He's gone."
He hunched in on himself, a big personality curling up small. All Dwyer knew to do was put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"Why? You didn't kill him. I did."
Speaking wasn't supposed to be difficult for him. He could put on a smile when he needed to, not that he ever wanted to. He'd been taught how to speak smoothly, swiftly, and evenly. But these words clogged his throat more than a spoonful of honey.
"I saw him alive. I... I didn't know it was him, back then. I wasn't really thinking at all. He was just some Hoshidan guy talking to my mother. They both looked tense even before I came in screaming my head off. Then, they ran off to try and save my father, not that they succeeded."
Once the first syllables left his mouth, however, all of them followed. He fidgeted with a loose thread on his pants and thought about the rules of what a perfect servant ought to look like to maintain the image of their liege.
"After that was when the dragon showed up. I was focused on just getting Kana out of there, but I saw him. Even if I couldn't see him that well, I saw his bow. The Fujin Yumi. The air arrow stuff. He was fighting off the dragon, herding it away from the town. He's the reason we didn't all get razed to the ground.
"Reports of his... weird behavior only started after that, right? So, something happened that day. When he fought it– her. Something happened then that made him this way. I got away, but."
But he's gone because of that, Dwyer didn't say. They both knew it, though. Kiragi's lip quivered again, his eyes filled with tears again, so Dwyer tensed already. For the shouting. A hit, if he was feeling particularly wrathful.
He didn't expect the hug, or the following "Thank you."
"Thank you for telling me that," Kiragi said.
Dwyer put his hand on Kiragi's head and pet his hair. Kana always liked that, and it seemed like the appropriate thing to do in a situation like this.
"We, uh, we both have dead dads now, huh?" Kiragi pulled away, and a sliver of his usual smile had made its way back to his face.
"I guess."
"...Do you wanna talk about him? I don't think I've heard about him before."
"You might be disappointed."
"That's okay."
"To start with, I didn't like him."
"Huh."
"Yeah. Maybe it's a surprise for someone who loves his father as much as you."
"Hmm, not really. Shinonome doesn't like his dad. I don't really understand why."
"Well. My father was bossy. Perfectionist. He taught me from a young age how to be the best butler. And I know I am, which made it worse, because if I'm the best, it meant he wasn't."
"Shouldn't he be happy?"
"You'd think that, yes. Every little thing, he tried to outdo me in. No matter what I did, he had a snide comment, or a correction, or some other asinine complaint. My mother argued with him plenty because of it. Never with Kana around, though."
"Sounds rough. Do you miss him?"
Kiragi hugged his knees.
The worst thing was, Dwyer really did have to think about it. "I shouldn't," he settled on. "I should be glad he's gone."
"...Are you, though?"
He ought to be. No more nitpicking, no more complaining, no more arguing. He didn't have anyone shouting at him in the morning to get his lazy butt out of bed. He didn't have anyone to show off to. He didn't have any more motivating spite.
The worst part was, Dwyer said, "No."
His eyes weren't supposed to feel wet, and his lungs weren't supposed to seize like this, but that all just went to show that Dwyer still couldn't live up to expectations. Why was it still running through his mind? It was one big joke, that's what, that his father's last words were no objections. It was so fitting. It was so dad.
And how he hated being called that! He'd tolerate papa from Kana, but be demand father of Dwyer because Dwyer had to be professional. Dwyer was the eldest son, so of course he'd succeed his father in all the aspects he couldn't care less about. The training was rough, and he envied Kana for just getting to play around, but like it or not, dad's how Dwyer learned to make his coffee.
Kiragi didn't hug him again. Instead, he just shuffled close enough for their shoulders to touch, and offered him the handkerchief. Seeming to realize it was already covered in his own snot and tears, Kiragi blinked, pocketed it, and withdrew a polishing cloth instead.
"Does this work as a handkerchief?"
"We'll work on your manners yet," Dwyer said as he took it from Kiragi's outstretched hand and elegantly dabbed his tears way. His nose wasn't stuffy enough to need clearing. He's already embarrassed himself enough.
So they were, leaning on each other. Despite it all, Dwyer felt... lighter somehow. Even if it was annoying, and bothersome, and stupid, and a million other things, he'd never have it again, just like Kiragi would never go hunting with his father ever again. Forever.
"As a hunter... The greatest honor you can give your catch, is using every piece of it."
Kiragi stared at the Fujin Yumi by his feet.
"I give you the meat to cook, sure. But that's not all. You can tan hides for leather. Cook bones for broth, or sharpen them into instruments. You can use the claws, and teeth, too. If you already killed something... make the most of it. You can't just sit there and let it rot. That'd just be a waste of life."
"So," Kiragi turned to Dwyer, "since I've got the Fujin Yumi, I've also got to use it. I'll fight. Until all this is done. That way, Dad's death won't be a waste, just like it wasn't a waste to die saving you. And... he'll always be with me, through this bow."
As he spoke, confidence bled back into Kiragi's every word, until he could finally face Dwyer with a red-rimmed smile.
"There's the prince I know." Dwyer's face felt weird, until he realized he was smiling, too.
"Hey! You're a prince too!"
"Am not. I'm a butler."
"Well, prince or no prince, you're still family. I'm glad I met you."
Dwyer was silent for a moment. "...Thank you."
He leaned back, resting his weight on his arms. Beyond the tree tops, the sky was awfully clear for a night like this. The moon hung full and bright, the heavenly sphere decorated by stars and painted in all sorts of colors.
"For what it's worth," Dwyer said, "I think I'm glad we're family, too."
Kiragi bumped his shoulder. "Aww! I knew there was a heart in you yet!"
"Tch, I can take it back, if you'd prefer. You smell like a dead animal."
"And you forgot to take the kettle off the fire."
"I-Huh-What?!"
Sure enough, the kettle had been happily boiling away during Dwyer's moment of weakness. He jolted to his feet and snatched it off the fire, then skillfully, artfully, poured them both a cup.
"You are going to wait eight minutes for that to steep and cool down."
"Yes sir, okay sir."