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It begins on a Monday, in a ministerial meeting featuring an assortment of former foreign ministers of Adrestia and the Alliance. Felix is seated to his left, and Sylvain to his right. Dimitri is tired, but alert. It is another day of trudging through the unification process, another day of bargaining and bartering and thankless work.
They are in the opening minutes of the meeting, each minister bringing up various concerns and proposals they would like to be addressed, when a page delivers a missive to him. It is a field report from Mercedes, who had travelled to the borderlands between Adrestia and Faerghus to produce an assessment on the humanitarian crisis that had been developing there.
Dimitri tunes out whatever minister is listing his grievances this time - Foreign Minister Becker of Adrestia, and something about marriage proposals that DImitri did care to give a moment’s consideration. And then, a warm hand covers his beneath the table and Dimitri freezes, his heart in his throat.
It is Felix.
It is not odd to feel the other man’s hand in his, they have been courting for almost two years now and they have held hands many a time, in intimate moments between sheets and with growing confidence and comfort among their closest of friends.
Their hands fit together well, and the safety Dimitri finds in the other man’s grasp is only comparable to the feeling of Areadbhar in his hand. The weight and grip, the reassuring warmth, gives him the same feeling of being able to conquer any task before him, bring any foe to heel.
But never has Felix sought out his hand in a meeting, never before the court. The gesture is, of course, invisible beneath the grand oak table around which they sit, but the possibility of discovery is undeniable. Dimitri maintains his composure as he sneaks a glance at the man next to him. Felix’s face is blank, worrisomely so. There is no blush high on his cheeks to indicate that this is some random simple act of affection, no sense of mischief about him. No, his mouth is a thin pale line, eyes sharp. The sternness of his expression is reflected dutifully in the firm grip he has on Dimitri’s hand.
Felix does not let go of his hand for the rest of the meeting, and says nothing of it after. Dimitri does not question him nor the oddness of his action. Dimitri is hardly in the place to question unexpected changes in another’s moods or desires.
But Dimitri does not easily move past the touch, past whatever meaning laid behind it.
Dimitri does not remember what it was like to be held by his father, to have kisses pressed to his forehead, huge hands rest on his shoulders. He chooses not to think of the woman he once knew as his mother, but he will always remember the softness of her touch, the feeling of her fingers untangling knots from his hair and gentle kisses pressed to scraped knees and knuckles.
There are few things in this world comparable to the physical affection and intimacy of family - the most casual touches convey a sense of protection, love, of being cherished.
There was always a veil between Dimitri and his playmates, for they may have been heirs in their own right, but they were heirs to serve him above all. There was the wall of class distinction between him and the castle staff that raised him while his parents attended to matters of state. And his parents… created barriers of their own, for his protection or his guidance, or whatever it was they told themselves.
Every touch transcended these invisible distinctions, broke down whatever wall the world built between him and everyone else.
However, the ability to touch meant one also had the ability to harm. This was the crux of Dimitri’s understanding of the world before and after the Tragedy.
The meeting on Monday is not the end of it. Far from it.
On Tuesday, in the steam of the sauna, hours before the rest of the court would even consider rising, Felix stops Dimitri’s departure with two hands wrapped around his waist, a warm forehead pressed between his shoulder blades.
“Felix…?”
“Just. Just stay here for a moment. I’m tired.”
“Of - of course Felix, whatever you like.”
“...Thank you.”
“You never have to thank me, Felix. Not for something like this.”
Felix says nothing in response, but Dimitri feels the exhale of cool breath against his back. They stay like that for several minutes, unbothered by the oppressive heat being amplified by their closeness. Then Felix lets go without a word, and the day passes unremarkably.
On Wednesday, Dimitri begins to doze in the study in the afternoon.
It is not unusual for him to fall asleep in odd places, to gather his rest whenever and wherever he could. But it was unusual for Felix to position himself upon the chaise which Dimitri’s back was propped, and to bury his fingers in the taller man’s hair.
Felix must think he’s asleep, Dimitri thinks to himself, Felix would never… well, that is not entirely true, not after yesterday’s display of affection. Still, Dimitri does his best to keep his breathing even and slow as not to give himself away.
Felix has none of it. He tugs on Dimitri’s hair and tells him to get back to reading his report, and sleep in his bed if that’s what he wanted to do. Dimitri complies in shock, returning to studying the abysmal financial reports from Galatea. Felix braids and unbraids his hair for nearly an hour, massaging his temples and his neck, playing with the baby hairs at his nape.
It is difficult for Dimitri to find peace. It is even more difficult for Dimitri indulge in pleasure while at peace. Felix somehow manages to enable both with the mere brush of his fingertips.
The day of the Tragedy, Dimitri learned what pain felt like, what pain truly felt like. What fists and steel toed boots felt like against his ribs, blades against his skin. The physical pain was certainly secondary to the emotional impact, but they were inextricably linked. The fire burned his hands and Glenn’s blood stained them scarlet. After the Tragedy, every touch to his scarred flesh felt raw and unwanted.
Before the Suppression of the Western Rebellion, Dimitri donned combat gauntlets for battle. Following the Suppression, he never took them off.
Touch could comfort, could bring joy, but it also could cause endless pain. Dimitri could cause endless pain. He would never take physical contact for granted or so lightly again.
The Academy is a haze. It is rare for others to touch him due to his status, though Mercedes and Sylvain have no such qualms. He finds himself leaning into those touches, to a firm hand on his shoulder or the brush of knuckles across his check. But each fills him with panic as much as pleasure - with each touch, he leaves himself open. With each touch, they put themselves within range of harm. He does not trust himself to not overstay his welcome under their touch, nor to not abuse their closeness.
It would be a lie to say that Dimitri did not know the warmth of another’s touch during the five years of his madness. The people of the world are not so terrible or so cruel - and it is for this reason alone, these moments of solace he was gifted, that he managed to survive so long as more beast than man. If he had been in possession of more awareness during this time, he likely would have feared the touches as much as he did at the Academy. Instead, through the haze of his madness, the harsh grip of the hands of the dead around his fate - each touch soothed.
The brush of cool fingers through his hair, the gentle press of the back of a hand to his forehead to check to see if he’d developed a fever from infection - even in the guts of Fhirdiad’s dungeons, there was a guard among Cornelia’s stooges that had enough pity to treat him with that much humanity.
In the slums, there were few that either had the bravery or stupidity to approach the Phantom of House Blaiddyd. A madame that scowled at his bloodied form on the stoop of her brothel, scrubbed him clean with no gentle touch, and fed him with a fierce hand - all the while saying that he’d scare off good paying customers. Never mind that dragging a half-dead beast into the brothel would be a deterrent to any sane man. Children on the streets who knew the pain of this world yet retained enough naivete - or perhaps, kindness - to take him by the hand and lead him out of the rain when starvation drove his vision into darkness. A bold young woman who pressed a kiss to his cheek, stepping over her attacker lying in the dirt now a good twenty centimeters shorter, to give her savior the gift of warmth in the early morning hours.
Each brush of skin against his own or pressure of touch through his gauntlet centered him, a relief from damnation he would never seek out for himself.
On Thursday, it is sitting on a library desk with a lap full of mouthy Felix, that it occurs to Dimitri that this ought to be considered as a pattern.
Felix makes a soft noise of inquiry at the sudden tension under the press of his mouth and Dimitri subconsciously leans backward, baring his neck for better access. For such an erotic act, the mix of pain and pleasure, having Felix tend to him like this was relaxing. Felix seemed intent on leaving his mark today - usually they refrained from leaving any visible proof of their relationship but… Dimitri had no desire to request he stop.
Dimitri does not get a moment to assess the meaning of this all, as it is then that two poor monks stumble upon their King and his paramour having a not-so-illicit rendez-vous in their library.
Felix is a gentle pink to what Dimitri can only assume is his tomato red flush and stuttering apologies, which is absurdly unfair, but terribly lovely. Felix is not irritated per se as Dimitri would’ve expected, or even embarrassed, but… regretful? forlorn? as he untangles himself from Dimitri to escape with some dignity intact.
Felix keeps one hand tucked around the curve of Dimitri’s hip, hot fingers tense against the sensitive skin there as they make their escape. Felix’s brow is furrowed, lips draw taunt, and he says nothing of the interruption.
Dimitri began to pull away when Felix brings him in close for a quick parting kiss. Dimitri barely represses his pleased shiver when Felix slides his hand, which had remained on his hip for the duration, under his shirt and up the wide expanse of Dimitri’s back. The heat of Felix’s fingertips on his bare skin feels like the first touch of spring sun on frost, rippling warmth that eased everything it touched. Before they part at last, Felix applies gentle pressure to Dimitri’s back, at the vulnerable curve between his shoulder blades. Dimitri gives a pleased hum into the kiss at the feeling, mourning the loss of as nails trailed gently down his spine and vanished. And then, they parted.
But that warmth lingers with Dimitri for the rest of the day, and the look on Felix’s face when they parted moreso.
Even two years after his return to the realm of the living, Dimitri is hyper aware of every touch he is blessed with. Whether sexual, sensual, romantic, or platonic - all are catalogued and cherished as the gifts they are.
When the darkness rises in him once again, as it does and always will, he uses those memories or make new ones to keep tether him to this reality and not any other. Fear and shame still cling to him at the thought of seeking assistance, but they fail to suffocate his will as they once did. When he hears the whispers or sees figures in the corner of his vision, he will seek out a friend, the peace of a strong embrace, a hand in his own, the vulnerable curve of a neck to bury his face into.
Dedue and Sylvain are perfect for hugs that make even Dimitri feel small and loved. Mercedes is best suited for chaste kisses and soft embraces while Annette will never turn the opportunity to braid his hair or have her hand dwarfed in his own. Ashe and Ingrid are the perfect height to wrap and arm around their shoulders, to huddle for warmth during long night’s watches. Each of them in their own way bring him where he belongs, staving off the dark thoughts and ghostly hands that reach for him.
Being touched by Felix is incomparable to any other. His touch is the memory of his parents and kind strangers, safety and security in a moment of contact, the grounding and strength of his friends, of his new family. It can be lightning - like energy in its purest form, tugging at his heart and desire as if tethered by puppeteer strings to every movement of Felix’s fingertips.
As children, Felix touched him constantly. He was undoubtedly what one would describe as clingy, a hand always in Dimitri’s own, a hug for each goodbye and hello, shared beds during thunderstorms and before long time periods apart - more than anyone else, including his own parents, it was Felix who taught him the importance of physicality.
After the Tragedy, Felix’s touch burned. After the Suppression, it was Felix who acted as if he was the one who had been burned.
Dimitri ached for Felix’s touch in those years of Felix’s self-imposed separation. Dimitri ached for the sense memory of the sunlight of his childhood spent in meadows playing make believe with Sylvain and Ingrid, of safety and comfort and sweetness.
But now, after shaking the weight of the dead from his shoulders, after acknowledging the harm his madness had wrought upon his oldest friend - that separation has ended. And the wall built upon between them taken down brick by brick, touch by touch.
It is not an exaggeration to say that each touch from Felix at the beginning of their reconciliation would bring Dimitri to tears. Eventually, that shocking relief at his touch shifted to simple happiness and pleasure.
Felix’s touch became every cherished memory, every desire for the future. And so, Dimitri weighs their importance accordingly.
On Friday afternoon, Dimitri goes to see Sylvain.
“Sylvain. Do you have a moment? I… I would like to request your assistance.”
“What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”
“It’s about…”
“Felix.”
“Yes, yes it is. How did you - ?”
“You never look hesitant about politics anymore, but neither of us needs to pretend you’re confident in love. Is this about Monday’s ministerial?”
“Yes, yes I believe so.”
“You believe so?”
“It is since that time that Felix has begun to act… strangely. Something is weighing on him but I am not sure what - I am afraid I must have failed to pick up on something during the meeting, some slight he was dealt…”
“Yeah, I figured you must have missed it. Otherwise you probably would’ve had me take Becker aside and threaten him with like. Increased wheat taxes or something. ”
“You are not my enforcer, Sylvain. What did Becker say?”
“You should set me loose sometime, I’d be really good at it. He said that it was about time you started considering the marriage proposals we’ve been receiving.”
“But. But I did hear that - he was talking about the proposals from the Alliance and Adrestia, correct? I did not even… I did not dignify it with a response because… I would never even consider spending my life with someone who is not Felix.”
“Why are you telling me that? I’m not the one who turned green at the gills in the meeting.”
“Of course. Of course you are correct, I need to - I need to go - “
“Yes, do quit wasting my very valuable time, Your Majesty, I have… tax reform legislation to review.”
“Thank you, Sylvain, truly.”
“Just don’t make me plan the wedding.”
On Friday evening, Dimitri finds Felix the training yard, drenched in the light of the setting sun. Felix is going through his forms, but there is a stilted manner to them, so very unlike the man known for his grace. It makes a pit form in Dimitri’s stomach; this has gone on too long.
“Felix.”
Felix does not start or give any indication of surprise at Dimitri’s presence, which is a distinct relief. Such lack of awareness would have been incredibly concerning. Instead, Felix just calmly returns his sword to its sheath and lets out a shaky sigh - in sharp contrast with the firm line of his back.
“I know something has been weighing on you, if there’s anything I can do to alleviate the burden, you must... please do tell me.”
Felix was quiet for a long moment and Dimitri found himself subconsciously holding his breath.
“Can you... will you hold me?”
Dimitri blinks in surprise, letting out that breath and feeling such overwhelming affection for the man before him, who was trying so hard, so damn hard to be strong in the face of whatever war he was waging alone. And he wanted to be held, be held by Dimitri . It made the past few days feel like less of a dream or an accident than Dimitri had been assuming and more of… of something tied to Felix’s disquiet. That there was meaning behind each desperate touch, a message that Dimitri was unable to decode…
“Of course, I would love to. I always... there’s nothing I...” Dimitri shut himself up and gently tuggs Felix towards him. He tucks Felix’s head under his chin, wrapping one arm around his waist and bringing the other to play with the damp strands at the nape of his neck. The embrace is firm, and Dimitri feels Felix relax slightly in his hold, adjusting the angle of his head so he nestled in the curve of Dimitri’s neck. Dimitri could feel the remaining tension and waited to see if Felix would breach the silence first.
When Felix remained quiet, simply breathing warm and slow against the sensitive skin, Dimitri swallows and grits his teeth.
“Felix… am I right to assume this has to do with what the Foreign Minister suggested last week?”
“Just say it.”
“Is this about the marriage requests, because Felix-”
“Just - just don’t, okay? I don’t know what to say, I still... I-I have no right to you, Dimitri. We have no right to each other, and you know that. What am I supposed to say, neglect one of your most fundamental responsibilities to the Kingdom to what, fuck around with your advisor?”
“I am not even going to deign to respond to you calling our relationship ‘fucking around’ because I know you are just trying to bait me,” Dimitri grumbles, “and since when have you cared about ‘fundamental responsibilities’?”
“Since I started sleeping with my King!” Felix wrenches away from Dimitri, stepping backwards unsteadily and jerking his head to look upwards at the night sky above them. Dimitri’s hands lingered in the place where Felix left them, eye wide with shock.
Felix should look angry, his cheeks should have that sharp high flush, eyes narrowed and teeth bared in a snarl. Instead, he looks scared. Scared and weary, as if haunted but having long accepted the presence of those things he’d rather not think of. His eyes have a distinctive sheen to them and he’s digging his teeth into his bottom lip. Suddenly Dimitri is terribly aware of how tired Felix looks, the shadows under his eyes and the way his hands hang limply at his side. Not defensive or ready for a fight, almost resigned.
How long had this…? How long had Felix been dwelling on this without speaking a word to Dimitri about it? They had not discussed their relationship since Dimitri’s coronation, since his rule became less about unification and more about governing. Since peace had finally swept across Fodlan - since the hazy future of the past has become imminent. Dimitri had been so wrapped up in making sure he didn’t fuck up the crown he never asked for and the relationship he’d longed for - he never monitored the intersection of the two. The guilt is hot and heavy and he feels tears prick at the corner of his eye that he quickly blinks away. Felix still won’t look at him, eyes locked on the map of the heavens above them.
Dimitri swallows hard, “These past few days… what were you…?”
“I was taking everything I could get… it felt like, it feels like… like I’m going to lose you again , but this time I see it coming. I’ve stopped caring about holding back or - or, preserving any sort of dignity,” Felix laughs bitterly, rubbing a hand over his sallow face, “I just wanted to be as close to you as I possibly could, for as long as I could,” his voice cracked on those words, and Dimitri’s heart along with it.
Dimitri takes a deep shuddering breath and, oddly, calm descends over him. This is, without a doubt, one of the easiest obstacles in their relationship to solve. The relief is almost embarrassing, and he tries not to let it show, to not confuse Felix any further. On one hand, Dimitri is completely overwrought by Felix’s confession, by the return of this Felix who had no inhibitions about keeping what he loved close and making his love known to this world. His throat grows tight and his eyes hot at the thought alone. But - oh, could his love be more foolish? Years of separation through madness and war had failed to wrench Dimitri from Felix’s side for good - and now they had the opportunity to be together, to truly be happy together, Dimitri would not let anything, much less something as petty as politics, separate them.
Felix might be a fool for underestimating the depths of Dimitri’s dedication to him, but Dimitri is more the fool to have ever let his anxiety still his hand in showing his love. Felix needed his touch just as much Dimitri needed his. Needed proof of Dimitri’s love, of his devotion, as much as Dimitri needed Felix’s. What a pair they make.
Dimitri had been so wrapped up in savoring each touch, cherishing every time Felix took initiative to seek out Dimitri’s warmth, the feeling of his skin, that he never considered that… Felix needed reassurance and adoration as well. Dimitri had spent so long holding back, not wanting to ruin what they had, not wanting to scare Felix away from him once again. Oh, as if Dimitri would want anything more in this world than to wrap his arms around Felix and never let him go. He could, Dimitri realized. Felix wanted to - Felix wanted him, wanted everything Dimitri could give him. Oh goddess, this was --
Felix sighs, finally finding the words for his despair in Dimitri’s distracted silence: “I can’t... I can’t. I can’t make you choose between me and the Kingdom. Between what you want and what you need.”
Dimitri smiles.
“That is where you made your first mistake, Felix. Assuming they are mutually exclusive.”
Felix blinks, tears spilling over, and Dimitri approaches him slowly, allowing Felix the opportunity to move away from his lover’s touch if he saw fit. But Felix merely stands there, eyes wide and uncertain, and leans into the caress of Dimitri’s hand against his face. Dimitri quietly thumbs at the wetness across his cheeks and then strokes them with the back of his knuckles. Dimitri was never letting him go, not again, he could never again…
“I cannot lead this Kingdom, this patchwork disaster, without you. I simply cannot. Not without your love, or guidance, or support. And not simply with you as an advisor,” Dimitri adds the last line gently, and saw the moment hope crept into Felix’s expression - his lips parting softly, lashes fluttering and breath slowing.
Dimitri brings Felix closer to him, till they’re chest to chest, sharing breath and eyes locked, “Fuck tradition, fuck how everything was done before. We’re doing it with the rest of the Kingdom - why in the name of the Goddess would we bother abiding by something designed to keep us apart?”
Felix gives a weak laugh at that, turning more surely into the press of Dimitri’s palm at his cheek, and bringing his own hand to rest atop of it.
“I have lost too many years where I could have been by your side, Felix. I will never lose another as long as I am still breathing.”
“I would ask you to be a King alongside me in your own right, but I won’t pretend for a moment you would say yes,” Dimitri lets out a huff of laughter as the flicker of disagreement that appears and then quickly fades from Felix’s face. Dimitri pauses, hesitating even now, before whispering the words that he had kept trapped on his lips since the day Felix first confessed: “So rather - please, and I am begging you, be my Consort. Be with me.”
“You really want me to be...?”
“My consort? Undoubtedly. There are very few things in my life time I have been as sure of as this, Felix. There is no one I would rather have at my side, in all things.”
“But - but an heir, for the stability of the kingdom - “
“Do not quote their lines at me, Felix,” Dimitri says gently, eyes softening, “Our Houses will merge when we marry. House Fraldarius will become part of the Royal Line.”
“That’s not... you can’t just...”
Dimitri snorted.
“I am King of this entire thrice damned continent, I can make a few things up as I go. Your cousin falls next in line, followed by her children if she so agrees. Either her eldest inherits, who I hear is certainly quite capable of ruling this Kingdom just as well as I despite being not yet 10 years old - or we figure out something before then. Adopt one a war orphan, or five. One of us has a night of terribly embarrassing intercourse with a surrogate we pay an obscene amount of money. Goddess’ sake, we have magic, we’ll figure something out. Honestly, Felix, between the state of interregional infrastructure and national security, an heir is the least of our problems.”
“You’ve thought about this,” Felix says faintly, eyes wide, hand trembling beneath Dimitri’s own. Dimitri threads their fingers together.
“Extensively. Hours of research, drafting up some proclamations and legislation for the parliament just in case. I am in love with you, Felix, and I have no intention of giving myself over to anyone else.”
“Is this... a proposal?”
“It can be, if you want it to. Or it can just be a promise.”
“They will come after you. After both of us.”
Dimitri bares his teeth, “If they have not already realized it, I am much more difficult to kill than my father. If they need a refresher course, I am more than willing to oblige. And I have little concern about your own ability. Not to mention I have the personal loyalty of more than a dozen houses across each region of the continent. If they want to host a coup, they’ll be cut down quicker than you can draw your blade.”
Felix lets out a weak laugh, half hysterical. He drags Dimitri’s hand down to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to his palm before moving their hands to remain clasped between them.
“I never thought I would say this Dimitri, never in a thousand years, but I do love that you are quite mad.”
Dimitri nearly chokes on his own tongue in shock.
“I thought about it when we were children, used to daydream about you proclaiming your love for me, consequences be damned. I thought myself such a fool after the Tragedy,” Felix is crying steadily now, but smiling through his tears, “and even just hours ago. I thought maybe, maybe I could have you in some way, in anyway. I’d tell myself I would never sink to be some secret affair, some dirty secret in the shadows for you to indulge in at the end of the day before you return to your Queen... And yet... I probably would have, if you asked. But I was a damn idiot thinking you’d ever do anything by halves, that you would ever… would ever treat me like that. You - you already have a ring don’t you?”
Dimitri’s thoughts are a whirlwind, trying to understand that Felix had thought about this - but had thought that Dimitri would… would cast him aside, as if Dimitri could ever… would ever - but there’s one action that can wipe that all away.
“Of course I do, I wear it around my neck in battle. It’s, I have it here,” he murmurs, pressing his right hand to his breast pocket.
“Just... just do it then,” Felix chokes out, “I don’t want a promise, I want - I want you. I want to be with you.”
“Okay. Okay.”
“Is this...?”
“It’s, um, well. It’s made of Umbral Steel.”
“I hate it - no wait, I mean,” Felix stutters, beet red and grabbing the ring out of Dimitri’s fingers, “I hate that you - it’s unbelievable that you - it’s embarrassing. This is...”
“Too much?” Dimitri laughs, the whole situation feels absurd, feels out of this world. He’s floating, he’s sinking and swimming at the same time, the world moving too slowly and too quickly all at once. He takes the ring from Felix’s trembling fingers, observing how his eyes remain fixated on the warm metal.
“No. Maybe, I don’t know. Everything about you is too much, everything about this is too much. I can’t even - we’re in the fucking training yard for Goddess’ sake.“
Perhaps Dimitri should wait to tell him he choose the metal half for its significance and half for how it reflects the color of Felix’s eyes. He’ll keep that to himself for now.
“If it’s any consolation, this is where I had planned on proposing anyways.” Dimitri says gently, carefully taking the ring from Felix’s grasp. They’re both trembling, cheeks tear streaked and smiles bright and wide. Felix can’t seem to decide where to look - at the slow glide of the ring down his finger, fitting snug and cool against his skin, or at the softness of Dimitri’s expression. His eyes are wide, and there’s a fragility to his eagerness, to how he ---
“This had better not be a dream.”
Felix flicked his eyes away from Dimitri for a moment, idly rubbing his thumb across the new weight on his finger and running his tongue over his bottom lip. Dimitri was torn between laughing and crying. He wakes up every day asking himself that same question since Felix confessed, he wonders if this is just the latest stage of his madness - delusions of joy instead of torture - but, but --
“If it’s a dream, then it is one we are sharing. And while it is not a usual comfort, this is not the kind of dream I ever have the pleasure of experiencing.”
Felix let out a sharp laugh and returned his gaze to Dimitri, a smile tugging at his lips. Dimitri cannot help but return it. He is helpless when confronted with Felix’s pleasure, helpless and addicted and he cares not. Felix brings his hand up to Dimitri’s cheek, and oh is that not a sensation Dimitri will now never grow used to - warm calloused flesh and smooth heated steel.
“We can work on that.”
“Will that be a part of your official duties as my Consort?”
“You’re asking me? Like fuck I know anything about being a Consort.”
“Don’t worry, the only official duties I’ve included in the drafted legislation are ‘ensuring the King does not get himself killed’ and ‘challenging errant knights to duels’.”
“You don’t need to woo me any more Dimitri, I’ve already got your ring on my finger.”
“That’s right. You won’t be ‘a’ Consort, Felix. You will be… you will be mine.”
“I suppose I could used to the sound of that… my liege.”
Dimitri makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat and Felix laughs beautifully at his shock, tossing his head back and shoulders shaking.
“I was saying it to be romantic - and you just gave me the most horrified expression. Don’t tell me the words sound that terrible coming past my lips?”
“It is quite… discomfiting to hear those words from you. There is a certain thrill to… the possessive nature of it, but hearing you use such an honorific. Well. It feels…”
“Incredibly strange? I regretted it as soon as I said it. How about… my love, instead? My heart? My sweet-”
“Yes, anything, whatever you like, as long as I’m yours.”
Felix hummed contentedly, “Now and forever.”
Some day in the future, Dimitri finds himself on a battlefield.
If they are to ever write ballads about Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, it should not be for the Tragedy of his life, his madness, or his victory in the War of Unification - but rather for his restraint on the battlefield that day. Standing on a field of battle, one hand pressed low at the base of his lover’s spine, the other tangled in his sweaty gorgeous hair - it took more restraint in that moment to not take his lover on the field right there than it did to not host a one-man siege on Enbarr in the depths of his madness. Felix, the love of his life who Dimitri once thought forever lost to him, cradled Dimitri’s head in his hands as if he were more precious than life itself, kissing him as if this were the last time he ever would.
A cheer went up among the soldiers milling around them, startling them both into pulling away. Shouts of the more proper ‘To The King and his Shield!” and the less so “get him, Felix!” - that was certainly Sylvain - rang out around them. Dimitri beamed, pride swelling in his chest as it had only a few times in his life before. Felix looked to be in shock, eyes wide and lips parted, whether at his own boldness or the response of their people, Dimitri was unsure. Felix dropped his hands from Dimitri’s waist but did not part from him, moving his hands to rest at his breastplate, casting his wide-eyed gaze around at their people in awe.
“Do you understand now, Felix?”
Felix blinks slow, breath unsteady and heart racing under Dimitri’s finger tips. He’s beautiful. Mud smeared across his cheek, bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat, eyes bright and cheeks tinted rose. Felix stares at the crowd, and Dimitri stares at him.
Ah, no. Felix is stunning, Dimitri corrects himself as a grin worked its way onto Felix’s lips, wild and gorgeous, as he turns to face his lover. Absolutely stunning.
“Kiss me, Dimitri.”