"I had a weird dream last night." Said Marche. He picked through his eggs without intention.
Doned's mouth was already full, "Oh yeah?"
"I dreamt that Ritz…" Marche hesitated, "I dreamt that Ritz killed me."
Doned tightened his expression, "That's not a very nice dream."
"Sure wasn't. Been giving me chills all morning."
"Maybe it means something." Doned said.
"Oh yeah? Like what?" Marche looked to Doned from the tops of his eyes.
"I dunno…maybe that Ritz is mad at you?" Doned scowled, "Did you forget her birthday or something?"
Marche laughed and shook his head, "No…I don't think it's like that. It-"
"Did you say something that offended her? You do that a lot by accident."
"No, it-"
"Maybe…" Doned put his finger on his chin, "Maybe she's tired of you being so oblivious to her feelings for you."
"Ok, stop." Marche slapped the table, "Now you're being silly. There's no chance of that."
"Really?"
"Really."
Doned thought for a beat, "Oh, then what about—"
"Doned!" Marche slapped the table again, "My dream was in Ivalice!"
Doned laid his hands across his lap. He nursed the silence for a while.
"You mean…our Ivalice?"
Marche made fists, "She was a judge and…she killed me..."
"Ritz? A Judge? That really was a dream."
Both were quiet. Some snowbird songs came from outside. A car passed, the motor humming low. Marche cleared his throat.
"Doned, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure." Doned smiled.
Marche opened and closed his hands, biting his tongue at a few false starts. He swallowed.
"Do you…hate me? Do you hate me for bringing us back?"
Doned's response was immediate, like he had practiced.
"I don't hate you, Marche."
"But you could walk in our Ivalice…you had freedom! You-"
"It was a dream. A figment of our collective imaginations. What good is it if it's not real?"
"It felt real," said Marche.
"Most dreams do."
Marche took a deep breath and stood up. He took his leftover oatmeal to the fridge. As he walked by Doned, he playfully patted his head, mussing his hair.
"I'm going for a walk. Tell mom where I went."
Doned twisted in his seat, watching as Marche pulled his jacket and scarf.
"Doned?" Marche didn't look back from the front door.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"For what?" Doned asked.
"Not hating me." Marche shot him a smile then left.
Doned turned back his breakfast, appetite gone. He chastised Marche for how stupid he was, thinking that way. After a life of sacrifice for his sake, how could Doned hate him in any capacity? The very idea nearly sickened him with anger.
It had been four months and three days since they awoke from their Ivalice. In that time Marche had changed. He was spending more time with his friends and family and seemed to care more, if that was at all possible. But, Marche had always had a problem with keeping important things pent-up. Like this 'dream' he had. Doned was sure that if they weren't siblings, nobody would have ever known about it. Doned didn't get many details, either, just a glossy version, like Marche was just making conversation. Doned knew better: any dreams of Ivalice were rare and needed to be discussed-Him and Ritz had discussed many of their dreams since returning. They had built a friendship on it.
Doned took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew then who to call and after cleaning the table, rolled off to do so