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[laidtocrest]

"What does a wurmple have to do wi-" I lost control of my life, alright?

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low effort starter

[laidtocrest]

[It was the Great Tree Moon, and the weather was perfect. Crisp, clear air with the same bite to it as a fresh apple. The sky? Perfect. It was a piercing, brilliant blue, the sort of sky that made Sylvain feel like he could reach up and touch the heavens and it would ripple around his fingers like water in a pond.

He doesn't reach for the sky. He's not a kid anymore, after all, and it's not like he did that sort of thing when he had been.

What was he now? A margrave-in-waiting. He'd spoken with his father, when the war had ended, and they had reached an agreement; his father would keep the title for another two, maybe three years, enough time for Felix to settle into the role of duke, enough time for Dimitri to get comfortable as king, and then his father would step down, he'd step up, and they'd just...deal with things as they came.

He's lucky, really. His father's many things, but he's a competent margrave, which meant that when the time came he wouldn't be inheriting a shitshow. Can't say that about a lot of his friends! But that's later.

For now, though? For now, Sylvain has his duty. And his duty involves the following:

He puts a hand on Dimitri's shoulder, and in his best, careless voice, as if they're two boys lost in Garreg Mach and not King and Margrave-in-Waiting (look, nobody else is around, it's fine, don't worry about it), says,]

Come on, Your Majesty. [He's going to tick off the pros, even, making a show of counting them on his fingers.] You're handsome. You're charming. [...maybe. He can be, but only if he wants to be, but Dimitri doesn't need to hear the doubt there.] You're not some untouchable beast. People like you. All our people think you're some kind of paragon of knighthood.

[animehamlet]

[Beautiful, bountiful weather leads to beautiful, bountiful suggestions amongst his court. In this week alone he has been hand-delivered (despite best efforts every step of the way intercept them) four proposals- with dowries, even- and has scarcely stopped himself from splintering the arms of at least three chairs when members of the old guard, tame enough to stand back and watch their king decree as he is divinely demanded to but bold enough to suggest I know someone, Your Majesty—

Maddening. It is utterly maddening to be surrounded by men thrice his age that think themselves coy in suggesting if the Savior King finds a queen soon, a celebration could be arranged around the Garland Moon, and that would be very auspicious, very heartening to the populace, and does he not want his populace happy...

Priorities? They are a wounded Kingdom, clawing itself out of strife and still wobbling on uncertain legs with its newfound weight- why do they prattle on about marriage at a time like this? People need to be fed and reassured before they can celebrate Dimitri taking the hand of some maiden he has likely never met and frankly would fear taking the hand of- for her sake, not his? Sylvain is a relief to speak to, a breath of fresh air amidst this constantly nauseating matchmaking. Yes, they all know, but those of the Blue Lions also know better...

So who put him up to this? It is one thing to be walking and discussing policy, and Dimitri considers asking if any further assistance can be rendered to Srengi efforts and perhaps holding his tongue and biting his cheek at anything crass if Sylvain does try to disarm him in that old way, but then the topic sways, closer and closer, dangerously closer... ah... the knot in his stomach...]

Sylvain... [The hand on his shoulder is kind, but as Sylvain starts counting off on his fingers, he feels the dread settling ever deeper like frostbite? Something more sour within him feels it could easily rebuke each point by merely pointing a single finger at himself, but this is... kindness? Sylvain is offering kindness. Who is he to rebuke it, even as his brow scrunches ever-so-slightly-harder with each point?] I will... defer to your judgment in the matter of the appearances I am upkeeping to everyone, but why must they insist on such things now?

[He could go much further, but does a random scullery maid or a squire going down the halls need to hear Dimitri bark about how willingly blind some people must be to offer people like sacrifices to a creature like him? No! Put a pin in that. Let it simmer. Let it seethe. Just stay in there. Perfect. Coping well.]

We are scarcely out of war- surely this sort of thing can wait? If they are so certain of my character, they should at least give me time to prove it.

["If I even touched another human being I could pulp them, Sylvain. I could utterly destroy them. I would. I would be nervous and it would happen because when I am nervous, oh, it always happens." He cannot enunciate any of that, let alone to a man who has known him since childhood? So instead he will just unknowingly perform that devastatingly Dimitri sad-dismayed-dog look.]

[laidtocrest]

[Dimitri says he'll defer to him when it comes to appearances, and there's a certain set to Sylvain's mouth, a certain clench at those words. He wouldn't call himself a stubborn man in general. (He is, one doesn't live in Faerghus without growing a stubborn persistence, but Sylvain wouldn't admit that.) But he would absolutely freely admit that he's definitely stubborn enough to fight Dimitri on certain things. This would be one of them.

...but, then, he gets hit by Dimitri's sad-dismayed-dog look at point blank range, and the redhead doesn't quite deflate, but the tension goes out of his body and he sighs. He doesn't know if he wants to lovingly...do something nice with Dimitri, or lovingly dunk his head in a snowbank. But it's one of the two. Possibly even both at the same time.]

Not waiting's the point, Your Majesty. If they let you wait, they let you get settled, and that means you'll get picky and are definitely less likely to jump at the first pretty girl with a large enough dowry who knows how to balance a budget.

[...they can walk and talk. Sylvain gives Dimitri's shoulder one last fond squeeze, and then lets go, fully prepared to sling an arm around Dimitri and manhandle him down the hall if need be. He's not as strong as a Blaiddyd, but he's strong enough to do his best and make things awkward for the both of them.

Their eventual destination: the stables. It's a nice day! Why not go for a ride? (The vaguely nice thing won over hypothetical snowbanks.) They can tackle matters of state afterwards. Hopefully Dimitri won't figure things out too soon because, Faerghan stubbornness, duty, matters of state.]

They look at you, they see a charming, handsome king. Someone who I said other nice things about? [Don't ask him what, he was in the moment, moving on.] They also see someone who's doing it alone- don't get the wrong idea! I'll be here as long as you want me in Fhirdiad, but they don't know that.

[If anything, they'd expect him to abandon his king for a nice pair of tits, probably. But Dimitri doesn't need him to say that. Dimitri's probably half-expecting it, but he doesn't need to speak it into existence. Call it Faerghan stubbornness.]