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For as long as Byleth has known him, Dimitri has been the sort to deny himself things. She has seen him resist everything from medical attention to basic social interaction, no matter how much he suffers for it.
The most notable thing is sleep. The bags under his eyes were darker during the war, but even months afterwards, the king is perpetually on the edge of exhaustion. Byleth relies too heavily on Dedue, Ashe, and Ingrid to prevent him from working until he drops, so often is she separated from her husband by church business.
Seteth, at least, takes pity. He is capable of performing most of her duties, and seems to understand how painful it is to be away from her husband so soon after their marriage. Officially, she is heading to the capital for diplomatic talks, but it really isn’t anything that calls for the Archbishop’s presence. She’s visiting her husband.
She brings a small group from the monastery, leaving most of her knights to help Seteth but bringing Mercedes. They make it to the palace late in the afternoon, right as it starts to fade into evening. A small patrol of knights meet them in the courtyard, delightfully and coincidentally led by Ingrid.
“Your grace!” Ingrid calls as a greeting. “And Mercedes! I’m glad to see you’ve made it safely.”
“Ingrid,” Byleth says, smiling warmly and closing the overly-polite distance between her and her friend. She puts a hand on Ingrid’s arm. “I finally get you to stop calling me professor and you switch to something even more formal.”
Ingrid laughs. “Sorry, it seems I just can’t shake it.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad, I do it too!” Mercedes says.
“Honestly, both of you.” Byleth shakes her head, fondly exasperated. “Still, Ingrid, it’s good to see you.”
“Likewise. Everyone’s been looking forward to your arrival. Annette’s been here since morning.”
Mercedes claps her hands together in delight.
“Oh, Annie! I was so worried she wouldn’t be able to make it! We came on such short notice!”
“That’s almost the whole of the Blue Lions,” Byleth says, more and more pleased with her decision to come out here the longer they talk. “We’ll give you more warning next time, maybe we can get Felix and Sylvain to come up too.”
“What a great idea!” Mercedes says.
“I think we’ve earned a more pleasant reunion than the last one,” Byleth says.
“I agree,” Ingrid nods, smiling. “Why don’t you head up to the entrance hall? We can take care of your horses.”
“Thank you, Ingrid,” Byleth says. Maybe on another day she would have insisted on taking them to the stables herself, but not today.
The entrance hall is scattered with people, and a lot of them clearly recognize her. She gets a few stares, a few smiles. Nobody actually approaches her, though, which is a change from the monastery.
“I wonder where Annie is…” Mercedes says, following at a closer distance than Byleth’s knights.
“We could look for her,” Byleth says. Mercedes giggles, covering her hand with her mouth.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. You must miss your husband terribly. Go along and see him, we’ll see you at dinner.”
Byleth’s face feels warm, but she can’t bring herself to argue with that.
* * *
Byleth finds Dimitri on his way out of a meeting with someone from a local merchant guild. He doesn’t spot her right away-- she’s standing on his blind side, and the familiarity of the castle dulls the sharpness of his combat awareness.
He’s still speaking with the guild representative, so for a moment, she just watches him.
The war has been over for four months, and they’ve been married for two. In that time, she’s watched his body slowly recover, in spite of his best efforts to push himself too hard. Someone has trimmed his hair since she saw him three weeks ago, and it’s freshly washed rather than damp with oil and sweat. His skin is clearer, his nails are cleanly cut, and he just looks… healthier. Better taken care of.
The guild representative excuses himself, and Dimitri turns towards her enough to catch her in his peripheral vision. She watches him do a double take, and then delight rushes to his face.
“Byleth,” he says, and the warmth in his voice melts her right through. He crosses the hall and makes it halfway to embracing her before he catches himself, glances back at the guild representative. She can see it in his face, how his longing for her conflicts with the need for propriety. The man from the guild is almost out of sight already, but Dimitri is still worried.
Before he can deny himself, she takes the last step forward and wraps her arms around his middle. He immediately relaxes, pulling his wife close. She hums her contentment.
Dimitri laughs, a soft, shaky sound of pure joy.
“I’ve missed you terribly,” he admits, his voice low to avoid being overheard. “My beloved.”
She kisses him. He holds her tight enough that her ribs protest, and she loves it, loves the physical anchor of his body, loves him.
It is, perhaps, more intimate than is appropriate for the hallway. One of the serving girls turns the corner and fails to stifle a giggle, which startles Dimitri out of his haze of affection. He steps back immediately. His face is flushed and he struggles to compose himself.
“Oh, I-- My apologies, Your Grace, that was improper. You’re here on official church business, after all,” he says, stumbling over himself a bit.
Byleth makes careful eye contact. “Not until morning. Until then, I am yours.”
Dimitri catches the implication immediately, and his blush darkens by a shade. The desire in his expression is almost unbearable.
He has to clear his throat before he can speak, which makes her chest ache with fondness.
“Right then. Shall we take a walk before dinner?”
She nods in agreement, and accepts the arm he offers to escort her. The pleasantries of high society still feel strange to her, but she is grateful that she is still allowed to touch him. His hands are warmer than they used to be, a benefit of regular meals.
“How is everyone back at the monastery?” Dimitri asks while they walk.
“The knights have taken to the change in leadership well. I earned their trust in the war, so there hasn’t been much conflict.”
“Has Cyril made the decision to stay yet? Officially, I mean.”
Byleth nods. “He has. He’s a bit lost without Rhea at the helm, and I think he misses Shamir, but he’s taken to the idea of joining the Officers Academy. Thank you for the suggestion.”
Dimitri smiles. “I’m glad it worked out. I know you were worried about him.”
“It still feels odd, that there are people I’m more worried about after the war than during it.”
“I think that’s the nature of war. Ashe has been excellent counsel for assisting with the war orphans, but it’s still on my mind a lot. The aftermath can be as vicious as the fighting itself, just not always for the same people.”
“He should talk with Mercedes while she’s here, she’s been doing similar work over in the monastery.”
“Honestly, we should probably join them for that discussion. I think we can find time after the meeting with the diplomats from former Alliance territory.”
“Depends on who they’ve sent. The remnants of the Gloucester house have taken a liking to drawing out meetings on purpose.”
Dimitri sighs heavily. “It gives me a headache just thinking about them.”
“Well, if we have to, we can discuss it over dinner tomorrow,” Byleth says.
“Annette won’t be happy. I believe she’s planning a surprise tea party for Mercedes tomorrow evening.”
Byleth laughs softly. She’s about to comment on the fact that Mercedes had been throwing around similar ideas, but Dimitri stops walking to look at her.
“Yes?” she asks, and he shakes his head, like he can dislodge the moment of stillness. He looks a bit sheepish.
“Sorry, I’m just… still not used to hearing you laugh. You’re already so lovely when you smile, it’s almost too much to bear when you laugh.”
If his goal was to make her smile even harder, Dimitri has already found victory.
“Then that’s one more thing we have in common, love,” Byleth says, shifting so she can lean her head on her husband’s shoulder while they walk. “I’ve still not yet recovered from how you laugh at Alois’ jokes. It’s terribly charming.”
Dimitri chuckles. “He’s done his best to cure me of my humorlessness, but I wouldn’t call it a success.”
“I don’t need you to make jokes. I merely enjoy your happiness.”
Byleth has been trying to verbalize her feelings more often since the wedding, because Dimitri had seemed earnestly surprised when she accepted his proposal. It’s paying off-- Dimitri always gives her the softest looks when she opens up about her affection for him.
She has a fleeting moment where she considers skipping dinner altogether to head right for their bedchamber, completely taken by the way he’s looking at her. Thankfully, they’re interrupted by a few of the knights before she can do something that will lead to them raiding the pantry in the middle of the night.
“Dinner is ready, Your Majesty,” one of the knights says. Byleth then watches as the man realizes he hasn’t greeted her, and stands back at attention. Dimitri is lax in terms of deferential manners, but a lot of his knights are unsure of how to treat Byleth. “You as well, Your Grace!”
She smiles, trying to put him at ease. “Thank you. Let’s head over now, Dimitri?”
Her husband is visibly relieved that she hasn’t echoed the knight’s use of his title. Of everything about being King, the loss of equal standing with his friends has been the hardest on him.
She’s happy to be the exception.
* * *
Dinner is a loud and cheerful occasion. The former Blue Lions talk over each other, swapping stories and updates on their lives. Byleth doesn’t talk much, but listens happily to tales of Annette’s recently-reunited parents, Ashe and Ingrid’s budding knighthood, and the children Mercedes is looking after back in the monastery, even if she’s heard some of them. They even get Dedue to update them on his garden.
Normally, these sorts of gatherings tend to carry on late into the night, but with the diplomatic talks tomorrow, Byleth meets little resistance when she decides to retire early, taking Dimitri with her when she goes. They get a couple of knowing smiles, but everyone is too polite to actually comment on it.
Byleth is quiet on the walk to their quarters, enjoying the way anticipation prickles between her legs. Dimitri rests a hand at the small of her back the whole way.
Once they’ve locked the door behind them, all pretense is abandoned. Byleth reaches up to thread her fingers into Dimitri’s hair and kisses him. He sighs like she’s relieved him of some great pain and pulls her close.
“My beloved,” he whispers, ducking his head to kiss the sensitive skin under her jaw. He’s diligent, almost worshipful, and his mouth on her throat tingles through her whole body. She runs her nails along his scalp, an idle gesture of affection that always makes him shiver.
“Take me to bed,” Byleth says, and that gets a shiver too.
“Gladly. Goddess forgive me, but I’ve thought of nothing else all day,” Dimitri confesses. Byleth breathes out the tiniest hint of a laugh and kisses him.
“I was tempted to skip dinner entirely, just to get my hands on you sooner,” she admits, and Dimitri groans.
“I would have welcomed it.”
Byleth doesn’t laugh this time. Instead, she undoes the clasps holding Dimitri’s cape on and lets it pool to the ground at their feet. She kisses his throat and feels him swallow.
She drops her hands from his shoulders and holds still while he unlaces her bodice, smiling at the way his hands don’t shake anymore. They used to, during the war, when everyone was exhausted and rationing.
The clothes coming off feels a bit like a dance, with steps they’re still practicing but nearly have memorized. She’s down to her underwear first, as there are more layers to a king’s garb than a traveler’s. He’s watching her intently, admiring each newly exposed line of her body.
When it comes time to free Dimitri from his trousers, her fingers brush his cock on the way to his belt. He inhales sharply, and she indulges temptation, rubbing him through the fabric with her left hand while unbuckling his belt with her right. He curses under his breath.
And then the familiar dance is over, and he is backing her towards the bed, kissing her the whole way. Just before her legs touch the mattress, he picks her up, clearly relishing the way she hums happily and grabs hold of his shoulders. He gets her safely onto the bed that way, in a position where she doesn’t have to scoot back to get all of her limbs up safely.
“Comfortable?” he asks, because that’s always his first concern, even with his cock heavy and hot against her hip. Byleth smiles up at him, and loves the way it makes his eye go soft.
“Yes.”
He reaches down between them with little preamble, eager to get her ready. He’s as attentive here as he is anywhere else, trapping her clit between two fingers and pressing just the way she showed him on their wedding night. It feels so good that she wants to squirm, but when she finally gives in and moans, it’s him who moves, thrusting against her hip like he can’t help himself.
He loves it when she makes noise.
“Dimitri,” she says, kissing his face. He looks at her, so close and intense that it makes her ache almost as much as his fingers do. “Go ahead.”
He closes his eye for a second, like he’s collecting himself. “You’re sure you’re ready?”
“Bring your fingers a little lower, love,” she says, amused. He does what she says, dipping his fingers down.
“Oh,” he breathes, when they sink in easy. Byleth arches against the contact.
“It’s been three weeks for me as well,” she says, voice strained. “Please.”
That’s all he needs to hear, because after that, Dimitri rearranges himself to settle between her legs. She grabs on to his shoulders and lifts her hips a bit, moving with him as he lines himself up and pushes in.
It’s a delightful stretch, pressure just where she wanted it. She sighs blissfully and grinds up against him as he starts to thrust. He starts careful, but her nails digging into his back eggs him on. He leans forward to get a better angle, and puts more pressure on her clitoris in the process.
“Dimitri,” she groans. The next thrust pushes her back a few inches on the bed, and she worries her nails just broke skin.
If they did, Dimitri doesn’t seem to mind, single-minded in taking her apart. The next time she makes noise, a little whine on an exhale, he moves again, stabilizing himself more heavily on one arm so he can bring the other hand down between them. It must be hard to balance, but she can’t think on it now, not with his fingers working her clit almost frantically.
He must be close. He never likes to come before she does.
She tenses up against him, putting all of her energy into helping him bring her off. He seems to notice her effort, and presses a kiss to her temple.
The next thrust pushes her over, and she makes a terribly undignified noise as her whole body convulses with the first pulse of pleasure. She struggles to breathe as her body shakes through it, unable to stay quiet.
It’s too much for Dimitri to handle, and he sobs when he follows, burying his face in her neck and shoulder. She still hasn’t caught her breath, but she coaxes him through it, stroking his hair and murmuring little words of affection.
It takes a minute for him to move, and even then, he doesn’t immediately pull out. Instead, he tilts his head up to look at her, flushed and besotted.
“Hello,” she says, hoarse but smiling. She brushes the sweaty hair from his face, and he smiles back at her.
“Hello,” he echoes, and then he laughs, just before kissing her so gently she can barely feel it.
Goddess, she loves this man.