Chapter Text
Garreg Mach’s walls are stone almost the whole way through except where it counts. Initially, Dedue was relieved to have his room next to the professor who’s famously quiet. He quickly found out the man talked to himself almost incessantly. It took almost a month for him to block it out because frankly, that’s none of his business and he can’t afford to make it so. However after Flayn’s kidnapping, Byleth started talking to Seteth more than himself. Since then, it’s not unusual for Seteth and Professor Eisner to meet in the Professor’s room for a conversation. It’s also not uncommon for those conversations to get rather heated. However, this is an entirely different kind of heat. Dedue is neither naive or a virgin but he’s not exactly keen on listening to two men he’s supposed to make eye contact with tomorrow have loud, passionate sex.
It’s not late but insomnia brings memories and thoughts that he can’t contend with alone. He’s usually safe from them if he sleeps through them. He’s not like Dimitri. Unfortunately, it seems like Ashe is already asleep. He considers knocking but waking him would be rude. Normally sweet and kind, Ashe often reveals a different side of himself when sleep deprived. Mercedes’ light is still on under her door, but imposing on her would be improper. She already has to contend with those ugly rumors about her parentage, he can only imagine what could happen to her if The Man From Duscur was seen leaving her room late at night. He won’t disturb the prince’s sleep. So there is only one person he can ask, if he says no, then he supposes he’ll just doze by the greenhouse until the lights in the professor’s room go off.
“Hey, Dedue, what’s going on? Everything okay?” Of course Sylvain isn’t asleep yet. If he sleeps at all. In fact, the other man is dressed like he’s about to go out.
“Yes. Well…” Dedue isn’t used to being awkward. He would rather just say what needs to be said but Sylvain doesn’t have an ounce of discretion in his body. “My neighbors aren’t exactly being discrete in their passions and I don’t know how long they’ll be at it.”
“Oh! Byleth and Seteth finally stopped eye fucking and got to the actual fucking? Sweet! Felix owes me 75 gold.” Sylvain laughs a little too loud. Dedue looks over his shoulder. Surely someone heard but there’s no one around to make anything of it.
“Sylvain…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah come in.” Sylvain says waving him inside and not bothering to shut the door. “Feel free to take the bed. I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyway. I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“A woman, I take it.” Sylvain flashes him a wicked smile.
“Naturally! A tall redhead from town so if she just so happens to catch me with Delilah tomorrow. She won’t know where to find me.” He crows as he artfully musses his hair in the mirror.
“Isn’t Delilah one of the knights?” Dedue asks dubiously. “I was under the impression you had a policy about messing with women who could kill you.” Sylvain crows with laughter yet again.
“Did you just make a joke?” Dedue doesn’t see how this is funny. Sylvain has been increasingly wild since Conand Tower but no one is really keen on dealing with him because then they’ll have to confront their own complicated feelings. “Ah, well. See you later.”
“I’ll go back to my own room when you return.”
“You know you really don’t have to, I can…” Sylvain starts but catches himself. Decide doesn’t want to think about what he was about to say. “Nevermind, see you later.” Sylvain slams the door a little too hard on his way out. Leaving Dedue to awkwardly lie in a bed that not his. It smells like cologne with a hint of straw. Sylvaian has been on stable duty the last few days due to his indiscretions. It doesn’t seem like much of a punishment as the Gautier Lands have raised war horses for generations. It’s only a matter of time before sinks his teeth into poor Marianne. Yet as the bed creaks under his weight, he finds the smell oddly comforting. It reminds him of his mother’s perfume. Floral, clean and simple, made from oils from the wildflowers that used to grow around their home. Certainly not made for the rigid men of Fareghus even one like Sylvain.
There’s no way a woman was in this room long enough for her perfume to be on his pillow. Besides Sylvain is constantly prattling on about his “rules” for romancing women”. Rule #3 is: Never bring them back to your place. Apparently. However, considering that he’s flirting with Knights, he’s willing to break those rules at any time.
Honestly, it’s beyond Dedue why His Highness has these kinds of friends. One would think that the future generation of Northern Warriors wouldn’t be so...whatever this is. A more insidious part of him thinks that if this is Fareghus’ future, then there’s a chance that what’s left of Duscur could rise from the ashes and destroy them. Or perhaps the slow erosion of Fareghus’ adamantine principles are revenge enough. Sometimes in these quiet moments when he’s alone, he wonders if he’s watching over Dimitri just to make sure he falls along with the rest of Fareghus. No, this is precisely the train of thought Dedue wants to avoid. Sleep is an easy escape. In the right conditions , he can almost do so on command. And with the silence and scent, the conditions are finally perfect. As he drifts off to sleep, he vaguely wonders why Sylvain would be wearing women’s fragrance.
Since this isn’t his room, however, Dedue’s sleep is rather light and he jerks awake almost five hours later Sylvain spills back into his room, staggering. Sylvain doesn’t even get to the bed. He stumbles and falls to his knees just inside the door, breathing so hard that he’s nearly heaving. No wait, he’s actually heaving. Dedue sits up and passes the empty waste basket to Sylvain who clutches onto it for dear life. His vomiting sounds more like sobbing, his entire body is shaking. It’s too dark to see exactly what state he’s in, but Sylvain’s neck is almost the color of his hair. His clothes are rumpled and in desperate need of a wash.
“I take it you got into some bad liquor?” Dedue offers awkwardly. He’s never had to deal with a drunk before. Sylvain is the only one of Dimitri’s friends who’s old enough to drink and Duscur only reserved wine and liquor for special occasions. “Are you going to be alright? Should I fetch Merce-”
“ No. ” Sylvain’s voice is ragged. Like it’s being dragged from his throat and ripped with needles on its way out. The hairs on the back of Dedue’s neck stand up straight. Something isn’t right. It’s too dark and his head is too bent to see anything but Sylvain’s eyes which are blown wide and bloodshot. In fact, his right eye is almost entirely red, like he’s been hit. Maybe Sylvain is paying for breaking his own rules. Perhaps this tall redhead tried to poison him. He tries to help the other man to his feet only to be shoved off. “I’m fine. Get out.” A master of honeyed words and winks is rarely so blunt, even in distress. Now that he thinks about it, Sylvain does smell but not of liquor. He smells like the Training Grounds. Something is wrong. Very wrong. However, this doesn’t change the fact that Dedue doesn’t know Sylvain very well. For all he knows, this female knight he’d been flirting with just took him to the training ground rather than to dinner. It would serve him right for biting off more than he can chew.
“I will leave.” Dedue says. “But I will come to your room with Mercedes tomorrow if you are late to class.” That’s really the best he can offer. He’s not going to linger around. This really isn’t his business and as someone from Duscur, he can’t afford to make it his business. Sylvain only answers him with a grunt of acknowledgement and slams the door in his face. Dedue hastily leaves before someone blames him for the noise but not without a sinking feeling in his stomach.
I should stay. He thinks. I should ask him what happened. I should knock on Dimitri’s door and tell him what state his friend is in. I should wake Mercedes and ask her to examine him. He doesn’t do any of those things. He can’t. If he’s seen acting on his own, the church might consider it an act of aggression. He hasn’t forgotten the constant questioning he was subjected to during Flayn’s disappearance nor Lady Rhea’s complete unwillingness to help.
He’d hoped to avoid Seteth and Professor Eisner until the next morning but as he opens the door to his room, Seteth comes slipping out quietly. He and Byleth share a long, languid kiss before even noticing him. The three of them stare dumbly at each other before Seteth decides to speak.
“Considering the circumstances, Mr. Molinaro, I will overlook your curfew violation. Good evening.” More like good morning. I should tell Seteth . He thinks. I should tell The Professor. His visible hesitation causes the two men to stop and eye him incredulously. Byleth wraps his black robe tighter around himself. He’s probably naked under it.
“Dedue…” The professor says slowly. “You’re unfocused. Did something happen?”
I really should tell them.
“We were probably making quite a bit of noise, Byleth.” Seteth clears his throat and the Professor shrinks back.
“Oh, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to keep you up.” The Professor is hardly ever polite. It never shows on his face, but he’s clearly embarrassed. “You can be excused from tomorrow’s early class, if you like.” Anyone would like to be but he can’t be seen slacking in his training.
“That’s not necessary.” Dedue says. I really should say something .
“Then we thank you in advance for your discretion.” Seteth replies, voice heavy with expectation. Dedue really has no choice but to comply.
“Of course.” He disappears into his room then, accidentally shutting the door a bit too hard. He always does that. Dedue finally slips back into his own bed with a sigh of relief. In the silence, he tries not to think of Sylvain’s eyes.