[ In this particular instance, he bristles slightly. He's ready to tell him off, but then there's another flash of stardust.
You are thirteen, and you have lost everything.
But your smoke-scorched lungs and wounds are tended to by the Kingdom's finest healers, and they are on the mend. After all, you are the crown prince, and the whole of Fhirdiad would lay down their lives to save you, seeing to your care day and night. Your father, the king, is dead. Your uncle is a maligned ruler, and not the true heir to the throne. You are the hope of thousands. The last miraculous star in their sky.
It is no wonder you survived, despite having no interest in doing so.
No, all you've cared to do is this: cry your strength away in great, pathetic sobs. Sleep in brief fits before newly minted nightmares startle you awake. Then, when your energy finally flatlines, you force down food that tastes like nothing, stare deeply into nothing. You think that in exhaustion you can wait for the feelings to crust over like a wound, something that aches in a lingering scar rather than sharp, luminous pain, but it never has the chance, because your childhood home is suddenly empty and yet still so very full of memories, teeming with opportunities to remind you of everyone that you'll never see again, and their faces and voices never leave you, not even for a moment.
Yes, you've decided. It would have been better if you had died. The thought visits you often, sometimes in whispers, met with dim acceptance rather than fear. But herein lies the problem: you cannot die. To fall on your own sword would disgrace you as knight—to waste away would bring dishonor on your father's strength. And even here you know that to die meant opening a rift of power that would fill itself in any way it could, no matter how unsavory; it is already impossible to hear news from outside the castle walls while you recover, and the reins to your country have slipped out of your burnt fingers, with more chaos bound to follow.
And to die now meant leaving your father's last wish unfulfilled. It plays over and over and over in your ears, a hoarse and haunting scream for vengeance, and by the time you find the strength to push yourself up onto your hands, your mind is made up, the grief-wrought expression you've worn replaced with something else entirely.
It is not your own resolve that heals you. It is not about wanting. When you cry your last and bottom out on sorrow, you reach for what's left, and it is a borrowed determination, a stubborn drive to make right the grievous wrong of your survival. You emerge from your room for the first time in what feels like eons to a dozen worried faces, all basically strangers.
You consider. A smile would be best. You arrange your face into your best approximation of one, and they look relieved, and you realize that a ruler is nothing but a pillar, a foundation for others to build greatness upon. ...A prince. A pillar. A king. An avenger. There is so much left that only you can be. When someone reaches for you, you take their hands in yours firmly, a facsimile of strength that you're sure will speak volumes anyway.
[ He gives Niah a comforting pat, though his expression is not so soft. ]
Yes, but that has always been the case. I was born into this world to serve my people.
[ It is not strong, kind, or gentle. If Yoo Joonghyuk was brought into a life to play the villain, Dimitri exists to be a prince. It is just the role he plays. ]
That was the moment I decided to live for the dead as well.
That may be, but it is still your choice to play that role.
[ In the myriad of events out of their control, Joonghyuk thinks they should cling onto the choices they do make. Agency is important, what little they have. ]
All those things... You know it does not mean you should forsake your happiness.
[ For a moment, he just stares at him. Why does he even care? ]
I will be happy when I am dead, satisfied with my reign and with my family avenged.
[ But he does finally admit, ]
That memory was... a kinder one. I have already caused enough hurt and misery that I do not deserve anything else. [ ... ] Still, I appreciate your words.
[ He thinks about it… finger tapping his forearm while his arms are crossed. This is a hard decision and he reviews Dimitri’s words, then his skills with weaponry (mostly dagger). It’s weighed against how annoyingly noble he is. ]
… As long as you keep trying, I’ll accept you.
[ Granted, Joonghyuk isn’t sure if Dimitri will accept him and his often sociopathic episodes, but that isn’t his problem. ]
[ He is not a fan of his occasional brutality but also like, has no room to talk. He actually likes Joonghyuk, even if he threatens to murder him a bunch. That's just how people communicate sometimes. ]
Thank you? I think.
[ They're Friends. Dimitri will die now for you. ]
There aren't many opportunities for joy here. But I suppose it is worth the effort of your companionship.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Like he feels that Dimitri has to know, so he says it aloud.
No, he doesn’t answer the question. It’s almost defiant. ]
no subject
But your smoke-scorched lungs and wounds are tended to by the Kingdom's finest healers, and they are on the mend. After all, you are the crown prince, and the whole of Fhirdiad would lay down their lives to save you, seeing to your care day and night. Your father, the king, is dead. Your uncle is a maligned ruler, and not the true heir to the throne. You are the hope of thousands. The last miraculous star in their sky.
It is no wonder you survived, despite having no interest in doing so.
No, all you've cared to do is this: cry your strength away in great, pathetic sobs. Sleep in brief fits before newly minted nightmares startle you awake. Then, when your energy finally flatlines, you force down food that tastes like nothing, stare deeply into nothing. You think that in exhaustion you can wait for the feelings to crust over like a wound, something that aches in a lingering scar rather than sharp, luminous pain, but it never has the chance, because your childhood home is suddenly empty and yet still so very full of memories, teeming with opportunities to remind you of everyone that you'll never see again, and their faces and voices never leave you, not even for a moment.
Yes, you've decided. It would have been better if you had died. The thought visits you often, sometimes in whispers, met with dim acceptance rather than fear. But herein lies the problem: you cannot die. To fall on your own sword would disgrace you as knight—to waste away would bring dishonor on your father's strength. And even here you know that to die meant opening a rift of power that would fill itself in any way it could, no matter how unsavory; it is already impossible to hear news from outside the castle walls while you recover, and the reins to your country have slipped out of your burnt fingers, with more chaos bound to follow.
And to die now meant leaving your father's last wish unfulfilled. It plays over and over and over in your ears, a hoarse and haunting scream for vengeance, and by the time you find the strength to push yourself up onto your hands, your mind is made up, the grief-wrought expression you've worn replaced with something else entirely.
It is not your own resolve that heals you. It is not about wanting. When you cry your last and bottom out on sorrow, you reach for what's left, and it is a borrowed determination, a stubborn drive to make right the grievous wrong of your survival. You emerge from your room for the first time in what feels like eons to a dozen worried faces, all basically strangers.
You consider. A smile would be best. You arrange your face into your best approximation of one, and they look relieved, and you realize that a ruler is nothing but a pillar, a foundation for others to build greatness upon. ...A prince. A pillar. A king. An avenger. There is so much left that only you can be. When someone reaches for you, you take their hands in yours firmly, a facsimile of strength that you're sure will speak volumes anyway.
This is why you've decided to live. ]
no subject
In silence he watches. Alongside the crying of a child, Niah whines more, padding around to find the source. ]
You call me strong and gentle when you’ve made your decision as a child… Then your reason to live is for others.
[ There’s understanding, but he doesn’t offer pity. It never helps. ]
no subject
Yes, but that has always been the case. I was born into this world to serve my people.
[ It is not strong, kind, or gentle. If Yoo Joonghyuk was brought into a life to play the villain, Dimitri exists to be a prince. It is just the role he plays. ]
That was the moment I decided to live for the dead as well.
no subject
[ In the myriad of events out of their control, Joonghyuk thinks they should cling onto the choices they do make. Agency is important, what little they have. ]
All those things... You know it does not mean you should forsake your happiness.
no subject
I will be happy when I am dead, satisfied with my reign and with my family avenged.
[ But he does finally admit, ]
That memory was... a kinder one. I have already caused enough hurt and misery that I do not deserve anything else. [ ... ] Still, I appreciate your words.
no subject
[ His tone isn't hateful, but bitter... Don't think he doesn't notice how Dimitri stares at him. ]
Why are you looking at me like that?
no subject
...I just don't know what I've done to warrant your concern.
[ he hasn't been exceptionally kind of anything to joonghyuk. ]
no subject
While improper and unacceptable, a "term of endearment" is a proposal for companionship. I am making considerations in the case it's revised.
no subject
still, he looks briefly stunned. ]
You would be... friends with me?
[ it sounds so juvenile, but he has to ask. ]
no subject
[ Fixes the word. ]
It depends.
no subject
He cants his head. ]
On what?
no subject
[ Joonghyuk thinks this bar is low. ]
no subject
I do not know if that is possible for me.
[ happiness is something for other people. he's believed that for many years. ]
Though I have been... trying. [ or rather, shinobu has been trying to beat this into his skull since crau1 ]
no subject
… As long as you keep trying, I’ll accept you.
[ Granted, Joonghyuk isn’t sure if Dimitri will accept him and his often sociopathic episodes, but that isn’t his problem. ]
no subject
Thank you? I think.
[ They're Friends. Dimitri will die now for you. ]
There aren't many opportunities for joy here. But I suppose it is worth the effort of your companionship.
no subject
With all of that said: ]
Stop calling me "Yooyoo."
no subject
no subject