Chapter Text
The world is different, now.
It's in the air he breathes, the taste of mead on his tongue, the feeling of the grass underfoot. It's the little things that remind him he is alive, that he is free, and though Joshua knows that there is so much work to do, when he mentions the desire to take a moment for himself, no one says a word against him.
For twenty eight long years, Joshua has been tied to Valisthea's fate, to every ache and pain of the Mothercrystals and their keeper. But they are gone, the Blight destroyed, the world begun anew. And though the Phoenix is gone, he can still feel its warmth residing deep inside. That warmth is what he craves to feel, more than anything.
Well.... perhaps not everything.
"Dalimil's springs should serve as a wonderful moment of respite," he explains to his brother over their breakfast of fresh porridge and the sweet Martelle apple compote that makes Joshua's mouth water. There's something about it, about how it grows even in the harshest of climates, that reminds Joshua of a certain dragoon...
Though, if I were to be honest with myself, everything reminds me of Dion, Joshua thinks as he takes another bite of his porridge, trying to keep his thoughts at bay.
Ever since they crash landed back down from Origin, things had changed between them. A crushing weight Joshua knew all too well was lifted from both their shoulders, a light reappearing in Dion's eyes that Joshua hadn't seen since the Remembrance Ceremony all those long, long years ago.
Still, Joshua is no fool; it was apparent that the scars were still visible on both their souls, even though Clive's final spell managed to cure their aching and broken physical bodies. For Joshua, it is the sudden weight of two decades of burdens, two decades of fear and pain and immeasurable loneliness that makes his teeth ache and his chest hurt. He knows that Ultima is gone, but it does not stop his chest from spasming, waiting for the next chest-heaving cough to rattle his lungs.
For Dion...
Joshua knows his name—Terence—and knows that he was, for a long time, the most important person in Dion's life. The thought brings a sense of comfort to Joshua, rather than what some would have assumed to be pain. The little boy who offered Joshua his hand those many years ago was a kind, albeit lonely, soul. He deserved to find happiness, to be loved as Joshua knew he deserved.
It didn't take long for Dion to find him after the battle was waged and the war won; Joshua remembers how they traveled together through the shanty towns built from scraps of wood and Fallen remains, what little of Twinside left after two attacks merely a pile of indiscernible rubble. Terence was there with a little girl, and though Dion and he embraced, Joshua could see the walls both set between them, a memorial to what was once and what could no longer be.
Joshua has never been loved like that, known the feel of another's heart in his grasp. He likes to think it feels sweet, like apples in the morning, but the way Dion and Terence say their farewells makes Joshua wonder if there is a bitterness to it, too.
"Sometimes love is not enough," he remembers Dion whispering later that night, after they made camp just on the outskirts of what remained of Twinside. "Sometimes there is too much lost, too much changed, that you can never quite return to what once was."
Perhaps that is why Dion handed his lance to Terence, a memorial to the Dion who once was but will never be again. Bahamut may be gone, but was it wrong for the Dragoons to continue on? And who better to lead them than Dion's second in command?
He didn't say that, though. Even Joshua knows that sometimes saying nothing at all is better than the wrong words.
"Then you may start anew. Isn't that right... Dion?"
Joshua remembers the way Dion smiled in the soft firelight, his brown eyes growing wet with unshed tears. The mask shattered, the sincerity on Dion's face gripping Joshua even now.
"Yes... anew."
And anew is what they strive for. Every day, every night, they work with Clive and the others to build a world they can all live in. There are no longer Bearers and Branded, no longer magic and Eikons—there are men who no longer carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, and men who deserve respite.
Thus... Dalimil.
"Will Dion be joining you on this... excursion?" Clive asks as he puts his spoon down, laying his remaining hand down against the scarred wooden table. The way he moves reminds Joshua of the time during the Remembrance Ceremony, where Clive had to bodily drag him and Dion apart after they were found sneaking onto the parapets to Prime into their Eikons. There's a tiredness and amusement to it that makes Joshua rub at the back of his neck.
"I... I haven't asked," he admits.
Clive snorts. "I am the last person who should tell you this—"
"Yes, you most certainly are, brother of mine," Joshua says, ignoring the heat on his cheeks. He knows exactly what Clive is about to say, which is rich considering his brother is perhaps the most singularly obtuse man Joshua has ever met. "I think it wise to not take advice on this particular issue from a man who spent five years running as far from his feelings as his feet could have possibly taken him."
Clive gives him a look, the kind of look that reminds him so much like father it gives Joshua pause.
"Yes, fine," Clive admits after a long moment of silence. "It would be fair to say that I ran from my feelings, which is why I do not want to watch my brother run from his."
It's a low blow, but certainly not unwarranted.
No longer hungry, Joshua sits his bowl down on the floor. Before he can even whistle Torgal is there with tongue and teeth and happy croons that require several long minutes of neck scratching.
Joshua half expects that Clive will have left by the time he's done, but his brother still sits there, eyebrow arched and arm crossed in front of him, his stump sitting in the crook of his elbow.
"Are you done avoiding the question?"
"I don't know, are you done asking frivolous questions?" Joshua bites back, but even he can hear how weak and pitiful he sounds. Letting out a stream of breath, Joshua shakes the feeling off the best he can.
"Look, Clive, this situation is extraordinarily complicated. There are things in his past, in my past, which make it unlikely that whatever feelings I may have—and I say may Clive, may—will only make our lives ever more difficult. It is a burden I would not place lightly on anyone's shoulders, least of all Dion's. And either way, just because I may have feelings, there is no guarantee he even dares to feel the same."
Clive stares at him for so long that Joshua wonders if this is perhaps a sign of a stroke.
"Are you... serious?" Clive finally says, and it's Joshua's turn to stay stock-still. "Do you not have eyes, Joshua? Every person on this damn airship has watched you two pine for one another for months—"
"I do not pine!"
Clive's incredulity is palpable. "Oh, yes you do. It's driven Mid to drink—well, drink more than usual. I've had to stop her from locking you two in a cupboard somewhere until you figured out whatever this thing between you is."
Joshua opens his mouth but pauses, remembering the past few conversations he had with Mid. Yes, she seemed a little on edge, and yes, Joshua may have mentioned Dion's name once or a dozen times, but surely...?
"Oh, and don't even get me started on Gav. He's had to call more than one meeting to try to convince Asta not to continue running her little betting pool regarding the two of you, though I'm sure the Cursebreakers are still investing their gil quite heavily into it."
"W—wait. There's a betting pool? Whatever for?"
Clive blanches. "I don't want to think about it. Though, from what I understand, Jill has five thousand gil on whatever will make me most uncomfortable, so as you can imagine I'm not particularly keen on running to find out the details."
"Oh, Founder," Joshua whispers, covering his face with both hands. Torgal seemed to pick up on his distress, sitting his head on Joshua's lap. Even that comfort wasn't enough to stop the deep shame from welling up in his guts.
Everyone knows. Founder, everyone knows.
And then a worst thought came, because there is always a worse thought.
"Does Dion know?"
"'Does Dion know?'" Clive asks, voice going a little too high. "'Does Dion know,' he asks. Hells, Joshua. If there is one person more oblivious than you, it's him."
Joshua doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed in this news, so he decides to not feel anything at all. Or, at least, he tries.
Taking his silence as a cue, Clive continues. "Though, and I say this as your loving brother... I do not believe your feelings would be rebuffed, should you decide to... pursue... them."
"You said there was mutual... pining?" He winces at the way that word sounds, somehow more awkward spoken aloud than the way it repeated on a loop in his head. "That Dion may feel, in some small way—"
"It isn't small, Joshua." Clive sighs so loudly the dishes on the table rattle. "He has been infatuated with you for nearly a year."
"That... does not seem feasible. Origin fell only eight moons ago."
Clive stares at him balefully. "Oh, no. A year sounds about right. You both were pathetic even before that thrice-damned rock."
Joshua feels tongue-tied, like Clive has somehow brought magic back to Valisthea for the sole purpose of casting a well-timed Silence. There's a heaviness there, one that only makes Clive's words ring louder.
"Brother," Clive finally says as he stands, tossing Torgal the morsels left on his plate, "for my sanity and the sanity of everyone at the Hideaway, please ask Dion to go with you to Dalimil. If you do not... I am not sure how much longer either of you will survive. Not with both Mid and Asta out for blood. Think about it."
With that, Clive steps over the bench and claps him once on the shoulder before leaving Joshua to his own ruin.