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This might be the coldest Dedue has ever been.
No, he’s certain of it. Even the coldest nights in Duscur have nothing on this moment. The sun has set and wind has kicked up, snow occasionally slapping against his barely exposed cheeks. The campfire offers little comfort, even with his expert tending to it.
He peers through the flames, greeted by his companion sitting across from him. Dimitri appears unbothered by the temperature drop, still in a considerable amount of layers, though he doesn’t care that his neck is exposed. He’s entertaining himself tugging on his gloved fingers, going from the knuckle to the tip of his finger.
“We are expected to just stay out here all night?” Dedue asks.
“Precisely,” Dimitri replies, “Once the sun starts rising, we shall make our way down the mountain.” He pauses from his whittling, lowering his knife. The flame catches on the blade. “You could have stayed back, Dedue. This is not something you’ve ever been expected to take on.”
Dedue cringes, grateful that his scarf is covering his mouth. He knows that this is not his assignment. Even then, he understands that if he didn’t come with, he’d be in danger. He has no interest in knowing how people would mistreat him without Dimitri being within arm’s reach.
So into the cold he went. At least he had the entertainment of Dimitri picking up and carrying boulders up and down a mountainside until the sun began to set. Dimitri’s crest is so powerful he can lift heavy weights and barely get winded, allowing the two of them to have free flowing conversations without worrying about a royal advisor or guard overhearing them. Perhaps this trip was not for nothing.
Dedue doesn’t say any of this. Instead, he leans closer toward the fire, trying to capture as much warmth as he can. The tips of his fingers go from numb to burning, but it feels like the best he can do given the conditions.
“And this is supposed to create better soldiers for Faerghus?”
Dimitri nods. “Yes, it’s to ensure every soldier is at the best possible conditioning.”
Dedue glares at him. He yanks his scarf down to make sure Dimitri can hear him. “But you have a crest that gives you super strength. Why do you need to worry about conditioning?”
“My father told me he did the same thing when he was a child. It would be unfair if we didn’t train the same way fellow soldiers do,” Dimitri reasons.
Dedue yanks his scarf back over his mouth to resist snapping at him.
“You find it ridiculous,” Dimitri says. His eyes narrow at him.
“I do,” Dedue admits, “But I’m of the mind that no one should have to do something like this to prove their ability.”
Dimitri’s lip curls. His anger is pushing through, but like other times Dedue has been the source, he tries to keep contained. He swallows with enough force that Dedue can see his throat move. “And that is why I pray that you will never have to be a soldier,” Dimitri finally says.
Even during a fight, Dedue does appreciate the clarification. Their circumstances have been unbearably grim, but Dimitri has tried to push against it every step of the way. No one understands their friendship, because it’s a situation that friendship should not be able to flourish. But it’s here,
Inevitably, Dedue misses Duscur. He never had to think about combat or training in the elements. He learned how to cook, because everyone did, and he was allowed to stay there, because he loved it. He can’t imagine how they would react if they knew where he was at this moment.
Dimitri pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He stomps his boot against the floor and murmurs, “I apologize for raising my voice,” he says. “I need to keep my temper in check.”
Dedue can certainly agree with that. He’s been able to embrace that Dimitri is an intense person. He benefited from it when they first met, Dimitri not only taking blows that were meant for him, but screaming that Dedue needed to be spared. That said, there’s still tense exchanges between the two of them.
“I break everything… everyone…” Dimitri starts. Even under the glow of the fire, his face is turning red.
Nobody really talks about the drawbacks of Dimitri’s crest. Dedue is sure that no one would speak to him about it, but he also doesn’t overhear conversations, either. It’s possible that no one realizes how much he struggles. They don’t see him watching Dedue run a needle through taught fabric, knowing that whenever he attempts he tears everything. They don’t know that Dimitri was reduced to tears when he tried to gently cup a plant, gripping a velvety leaf too tightly and tearing it apart.
Dedue gets up. His chest aches at how Dimitri flinches at the sight. He walks along the fire, sitting down next to him. Placing a hand in the space between them.
He’s not scared of Dimitri. Even with all the issues that Dimitri deals with, he would rather die than aim any of them at Dedue. There’s unwavering loyalty between the both of them. It’s the only comfort Dedue really has nowadays.
Dedue shifts his hand closer toward Dimitri. He grazes his fingers against Dimitri’s thigh tentatively.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dimitri whispers.
“I’m bigger than you. I’m certain I can handle it.”
Dimitri scoffs. “Again, Dedue, it’s a crest. It’s not like typical strength expectations…”
Dedue grabs Dimitri’s hand, gripping it tightly. “Then I’ll hold your hand,” he says.
Dimitri opens his mouth, ready to give a retort. He doesn’t, allowing his hand to be held.
For a brief moment, Dedue remembers the appeal of their isolation. There’s freedom to be found in being the only two people in the mountainside. They have ghosts in their minds, but they are expected company. There’s no other prying eyes or complicated gossip networks.
“You deserve the world, Dedue,” Dimitri says, “I will do everything in my power to give you what you want… what you need…”
It’s strange that Dedue believes him. Even if he’s dragged him on a ridiculous training exercise, he believes every single word. They’ve been through too much for him to believe otherwise.
“Can it be a world without us having to be on freezing mountainsides?” Dedue asks.
Dimitri laughs. It’s clear and echoes through the open air. “I will try my best, dear friend,” he says.