Spring 

Gardens don’t suit Felix.

Gardens are a place for women to sip their exotic teas while gossiping. They’re for grandfathers to doze off in while smoking a pipe. Or, in his own experience, gardens are for children to run amok in—and subsequently, be punished for literally climbing up the wrong tree and accidentally bringing down a bushel of apples upon some windbag’s graying head. Gardens are not for hardened soldiers with their battered bodies and bloodied hands. So, for the life of him, Felix can’t understand why Ashe and Dedue spend so much time in bloody gardens. 

“Oh, Felix, hello!” Ashe waves. “You’re early. All right, just give us a few minutes, and we’ll get started.”

Felix grunts and leans against a tree. He’s not looking forward to the gardening lesson, but since when is penance supposed to be fun? Felix recalls the previous meeting with a frown. They were working out the annual budget. Dimitri felt the need to explain why he’d added a few extra coins to the palace’s modest sum. 

“Though it is a bit selfish of me, I’d like to use those funds to restore Queen Sophia’s garden.” 

The room became dead silent then. No one had dared to utter Dimitri’s birth mother’s name in over a decade. Sophia’s untimely death was just one of many tragedies piled onto Dimitri’s shoulders, lost to the plague before the healers could brew their remedies. They were so young then that Felix hardly recalls her. Any paintings of her had been destroyed by Patricia or sold off by Rufus some time ago. Felix had—rather tactlessly, he now realizes—done what he does best; rebuffed the project before Dimitri could finish his thought.

 “Still living for the dead, I see,” Felix said. “Haven’t learned your lesson yet, boar?” 

Felix had been met with backlash in the form of dozens of groans and a disappointed “Felix; I thought you’d changed!”  from Annette that cut especially deep. Felix left the meeting in a flurry of his own rage and disappointment. He’d thought his friends wise enough to realize that people don’t change that easily by now. Especially not people like himself and Dimitri. Their titles may have shifted and their duties multiplied, but they’re just the same as they ever were. Felix can’t tell anyone exactly what he and Dimitri are, but he knows what they aren’t and it’s not some sweet fawning couple like everyone seems to want them to be...Yet, astoundingly, a couple they are —truly, he has no idea how it’d come to pass— and Felix would prefer for things to remain that way. 

After calming down, Felix rummaged through his personal collection for a few weapons that he could bear to part with and hawked them off to Ignatz for a reasonable price. It isn’t a matter of throwing money at the problem and hoping for improvement. (They’re doing enough of that around the capital as is.) Expertise is required if things are to turn out well. So, Ashe and Dedue. 

Ashe saunters up to Felix with a grin, looking the ideal farmer in his oversized hat and trousers. Ashe is as chatty and cheerful as ever. It’s as if the war hadn’t touched him at all. As if he hadn’t lost a damn thing. Something akin to jealousy boils beneath Felix’s skin until he recalls riding to put down Lord Lonato, and it vanishes.

 “All right! What do you know about gardening?”

Felix merely raises an eyebrow in lieu of a response. Ashe folds quickly.

“Okay, that’s no problem! What got you interested in gardening all of a sudden?” 

“That’s irrelevant,” Felix says. “Can you teach me or not?”

“...Right.” Ashe chuckles nervously. “Well, how about you take a look at what Dedue and I are working on?”

Dedue gives Felix a sharp nod that the latter returns. They’d slowly begun to get along ever since Dedue defended Felix from a deadly blow several years ago. Begrudgingly, Felix had learned to respect the man. When he’d suddenly taken up with Ashe in Gaspard, Felix could no longer mock Dedue as a loyal dog without his own ambitions. The only option left was friendship.

“Ta-da!” Ashe preens as he gestures to the neat flowerbeds.

Felix sneers at them. 

Flowers. Pathetic things, really. If they were medicinal, then he could see the value in them. These, however, only exist for aesthetic purposes, and that’s almost worse than no purpose to Felix. Why put so much effort into something that wouldn’t survive a week aboveground? When he says as much, Ashe merely smiles wider.

“I suppose you would look at it that way,” Ashe says. “You’re not wrong. Flowers don’t live very long lives. Sometimes, despite all the love and care you give them, they just don’t make it.” Ashe shakes his head solemnly. “But I think that’s what makes humans love them! The fact that they aren’t around for very long makes us appreciate them that much more.” 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Felix frowns. 

“Does it not?” Dedue asks. 

“Don’t go getting all mystical on me, do-Dedue.”

“I have no such intentions. I believe Ashe is suggesting that flowers have intrinsic value because they’re living beings, just as humans are. Their virtue lies in their impermanence. They will wither, die, and return to the earth, just as humans must.”

“That’s exactly what I mean!” Ashe says. He pecks Dedue on the forehead and grins widely as if he were the one being praised.  “Thank you, Dedue.”

“I still don’t take your meaning,” Felix says. And the affection display is not helping his irritation.

Ashe pauses for a moment, visibly in thought. “Think of something you’ve lost. Something that you really care about. Love even. How desperately you tried to find it. How badly it hurt to be without it. Losing it made you appreciate it a lot more, right? After you got it back, it was that much more precious. It’s sort of like that.”

“...I understand,” Felix says.

Ashe and Dedue nod approvingly before inviting him to observe their pruning. 

~

There's something about the wildness of Sophia’s garden that appeals to Felix. It is something well and truly untamed in the overly curated capital. 

He wonders if Dimitri feels the same. 

Felix thoroughly inspects the area and finds that he doesn’t mind the garden at all. The benches are so splintered that the ground would be a better option, even muddied or frosted over. The statue in the fountain is weeping vines instead of tears into the cracked basin below. The flowerbeds house more fauna than flora at this point. It’s arranged well. The area would get lots of sun in the summer. It would be a nice place to picnic in the spring and fall. Restoring it is not an impossible task because nothing is impossible after that war to end wars. Anything can be conquered with enough effort, and Felix isn’t afraid of effort. It’s merely that he knows himself all too well; Felix Fraldarius is made for fighting and fighting alone, be it on the battlefront or in the Cardinal’s Room. He simply doesn’t have the capacity to dedicate much time or attention to anything that isn’t fighting. Felix sighs. 

Why does Dimitri care so much?

It’s not as if many people ever come here (none, apparently), and with Dimitri permanently welded to his desk, it’s not as if he’d be there much. Although, unlike the garden, Dimitri seems to feel little need to groom himself. Figures. Well, Felix could puzzle over that later. First of all, there is no point in planning anything else until the path is walkable. With that thought in mind, he stoops low and begins weeding. 

~

Felix, apparently, is the only one who appreciates the wildness of the garden. The Royal Gardener looks faint upon seeing the state it's in and quickly calls in a so-called expert. A “landscaper,” whatever that means. In less than 5 minutes, Felix concludes the only thing that man is an expert at is being a prick. His nose is so high in the air that he doesn’t notice when he steps on Felix’s hand until Dimitri gasps in horror. Instead of apologizing, he sends Felix to fetch him a drink reassuring Dimitri that he’ll be plenty useful unlike the current help. When Dimitri opens his mouth, Felix immediately quiets him with the glare that sends noblemen away with their tails between their legs. Felix isn’t one to dwell on the past, but he will enjoy remembering the look on the landscaper’s face as the maid lays out tea before bowing to Felix and asking, “Will that be all, Your Grace?” 

The best part of being Duke, Felix decides, is that he can make a man piss himself without even having to draw his sword. 

By the end of the month, Felix has a routine in place. He’s always taken his midday meal much faster than the others. Rather than dawdle for the remainder of the hour, he chooses to head outdoors every afternoon. As obnoxious as chores at the academy had been, Felix had gotten quite good at weeding as a result. He’s also found that he can wield sheers just as easily as any other pointed object. Beating back the overgrowth is quite satisfying. It is a relentless enemy that he can lay into with no consequences. 

“Felix?” Dimitri calls softly.

Felix startles at the sound of his own name. “What?”

“It’s awfully late, don’t you think?”

Felix notes the darkening sky and shrugs. “If I weren’t here, I’d be working indoors. I might as well get some fresh air.”

“Well-reasoned, as always,” Dimitri offers a tentative smile. “Please, don’t tire yourself on my account. I’m ever grateful for your loyalty and dedication, but this extends well beyond what’s expected of you. You don’t have to do this, Felix.”

Something about the way Dimitri says it makes a pit form in Felix’s stomach. As if he wouldn’t drag himself through Ailell and back for Dimitri on any given day. 

I’m doing this because I want to, he doesn’t say. 

“It’s cheaper if I do it. Besides, you’d never have the guts to tell anyone that their designs are revolting.”

“Ah,” Dimitri hums. “I take it that it was you who dismissed the landscaper then?”

“A joint effort between Dedue and myself,” Felix says. 

Felix had enjoyed watching the man squirm whenever he was in the duke’s vicinity. Amazingly, Dedue was the one to fly off the metaphorical handle for once. His stony face twitched with annoyance whenever the fop criticized their arrangements or technique. The final straw was when the man foolishly decided to insult Ashe’s prized violets. Watching Dedue threaten the landscaper with secateurs was leagues more entertaining than any harp solo or poetry reading could ever be. 

Dimitri’s eyebrows raise. “Is that so? How unexpected.”

Felix merely grunts and thinks that will be the end of it, but of course, it isn’t. Dimitri unclasps his cloak, rolls up his sleeves, and falls to his knees beside Felix. 

“What are you doing, boar? The head maid will have your head if you rip your clothes again.” Felix can’t blame her. They can only patch so much, and with Dimitri refusing new clothing, patchwork is all they can do to keep the king looking somewhat presentable.

“I’ll exercise the appropriate level of caution, then.”

The so-called appropriate level of caution ends in several crushed flowers, a shattered vase, and a dirt-coated Felix.

“My apologies!” Dimitri hangs his head. “It seems that delicate pursuits are still not my strong suit. How unfortunate.”

Just get out, Felix wants to say.  But...Dimitri wants to do this himself; that much is clear. 

“It’s fine,” Felix says after taking a deep breath. After all, he’s been covered in things much worse than soil before.  “Get me another vase.”

“Yes, of course! Leave it to me!” Dimitri says much too eagerly. 

Felix thumbs over a crushed petal and frowns. As silly as it is, he’d begun to care for these fragile little things. 

Summer 

By now, word of Felix’s new hobby has spread. (Except it’s not a hobby because that would imply that he is doing it for recreational purposes, and he’s certainly not.) Those who don’t know him wave it off as a rumor. Those who do know Felix, however, find novel ways to irritate him each day. Sylvain, the degenerate, has even come up with a little ditty. 

Duke Fraldary, quite contrary.

How does your garden grow? 

With kitten bells and Thoron spells,

And handsome kings all in a row! 

 

After pursuing the redhead across the castle and giving him a good wallop, Felix evenly replied, “The same way as the lump on your head!”

The garden is beginning to look… acceptable. One—not Felix, of course, but someone like Annette or Mercedes—might even call it “lovely.” He can picture people here now, as poor as his imagination is. Not the pompous nobility. It wouldn’t be enough for them, and they don’t deserve to take up any more of Dimitri’s space. The Blue Lions, however, would surely enjoy it. Moreover, he can see himself and Dimitri. 

They’re out on an evening stroll. The heels of their boots click alongside one another as they make their way down the cobblestone path. The midsummer air hanging heavy and sweet all around them in a way that makes Felix a bit dizzy. Dimitri would be dashing, as always. Dressed down for once in soft trousers and a loose shirt. He’d be smiling because Dimitri makes himself smile far too much these days. But maybe, just maybe, alone in a lovely garden all their own, that smile would be real. Dimitri’s mouth would fall open on a gasp as the thunderbugs emerge, hundreds of little Thoron spells firing off at once. Dimitri would reach out in wonder, as he always did during their childhood, before quickly retracting his hand for fear of crushing them. Felix would shake his head before summoning a bit of his magic. They’d watch the bugs flock to Felix’s fingertips and into his waiting hand. Slowly, he’d urge the little creatures out of his palm and onto Dimitri’s trembling fingers. When the little bugs finally grow tired of them and flutter away, they would sit down on the freshly carved bench and whisper into each other’s ears until sunrise. 

It seems… nice. Perhaps there could be a place for hardened warriors in the garden. Felix jolts as he feels something heavy atop his head. It quickly disappears. He reaches up to find a straw hat. In front of him is Dimitri, kindly, and concerned. 

“Who do I look like, Dedue?” Felix growls. “I don’t need a stupid hat!” 

Dimitri shakes his head. “You’ve been staring off into the distance for some time, and you’re looking quite flushed. I fear you may be overheating.” He says with a frown.

It’s not an unfounded assumption. Felix had suffered from heatstroke several times as a child, once fainting during Glenn’s birthday celebration. 

“You’re not my nursemaid, boar. You don’t have to coddle me,” Felix says. 

“No, I’m not. But I’ll always see to your health.” Dimitri settles beside Felix. “Here, have some water.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Felix snaps. He wills the blush away.   

“Humor me, then.” 

Felix snatches away the waterskin, intent on taking just a small sip when he realizes how uncomfortably dry his throat is and how close his lips are to splitting. He takes a long drink and nearly spits the water back out as Dimitri unlaces the top of his shirt.

“Things are coming together well enough, wouldn’t you say?”

Felix swallows slowly to avoid choking. “I guess.”

“You needn’t be modest, Felix! You’ve quite the green thumb.” 

“I’m just following Ashe and Dedue’s instructions.”

“Well, I’m still grateful for your aid,” Dimitri turns to Felix offering a smile. “I’m glad to be spending time with you, Felix.”

“...Yeah, me too...” Felix ducks his head. 

Maybe he is ill. 

~

Fhirdiad thrives on misery and misfortune and the character-building they supposedly provide; that much is clear to Felix. Contrary to other citizens, he believes that’s a crock of shit. What, exactly, is Dimitri (or himself, for that matter) gaining from a freak storm nearly destroying their pet project? Nothing. And he’d be sure to tell Mercedes to let the Goddess know it. (She visits Byleth often enough.)

Dimitri sighs heavily as he eyes what should’ve been a plot of Sophia’s favorite flowers, a rare variety of night-blooming camellia called a Duscan Moonflower. Dimitri’s memory of them is faint. When asked what they look like, Dimitri replied, “beautiful.” When questioned on the color, all Dimitri could think to say was “like Mother’s eyes.” 

“I suppose that’s the end of that, then,” Dimitri hangs his head. “Those seeds were all that was left of her.”

Felix, who has never been one for comfort, does his best to offer it anyway. 

“Do you honestly believe I trusted you with something that precious when you managed to set an empty pot on fire? Twice. Ask Dedue. Maybe he’ll lend you some seeds when he’s finished growing his.” 

The relief on Dimitri’s face is palpable, and Felix smiles, just a bit, because who wouldn’t when faced with such sincerity? “...I believe that incident was Annette’s doing, not mine.”

“Oh, I remember. It’s amazing that I can remember given that you were the one who gave me a concussion while trying to knit shortly afterward.”

“I...was hoping you’d forgotten that,” Dimitri says with a watery smile. 

Felix ignores him and bends down to examine the flowers. Dedue and Ashe had flooded him with information, among the more useful being that white magic could help out in a pinch. White magic is difficult for Felix, but even he can muddle through a basic healing spell. ...Or so he thought. By his fourth spell, it’s clear that nothing is working.

“Felix, it’s all right, really,” Dimitri says. “I’m just relieved that I haven’t ruined everything.”

Felix’s jaw twitches in irritation. 

“Thanks to you, I—”

“Will you shut up and just let me do something for you for once, dammit!” Felix shouts before he can stop himself.

Dimitri’s eye widens. 

The anger fizzles immediately. Yelling at Dimitri doesn’t feel as great as it used to these days. Felix trips over his own tongue.

 “I— that’s…”

What? Not what he meant? Actually, it’s exactly what he meant. He could go on a rant for days about just how much he’d love for Dimitri to let anyone besides Dedue help him. 

“Felix…” Dimitri murmurs.

“Forget it!” Felix is struck with the urge to flee and nearly does so when Dimitri’s hand rests on his shoulder. 

“Oh, Felix,” Dimitri says in that overly fond way that makes Felix’s stomach roil. “But you do. You do so very much for me, Felix. More than one could ever expect of another. Truly, you shouldn’t even be bothered with me, and yet you’ve pledged your fealty to me. Gone so far as to take on yet another duty because you serve a foolish king.” 

“You really are a fool, you know. This gardening thing,” Felix begins gesturing all around them. “I’m not doing it out of guilt or obligation.” At least, not anymore, he isn’t. “I’ll not have you make a martyr of me. I’m here because I want to be, got it? This isn’t about me. It’s not about you. It’s about honoring your mother. It’s ours. Our responsibility that is. So we should both pull our weight. That’s all.” 

Felix hates himself a bit for noticing how Dimitri’s shoulders relax and how his eye crinkles with his grin. “Understood.”

Behind them, the flowers begin to perk up.

A few weeks later, when they do go for a midnight stroll, it isn’t the flowers' soft glow that fascinates Dimitri the most.

Fall

Felix can’t help but revel in the satisfaction that comes with hammering in the final nail. He rolls his stiff shoulders before lying back on the rooftop.

The gazebo has been particularly challenging. They’d basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. After working side by side for months, both indoors and out, he and Dimitri have little need for words now. A tilting of the head here, and tap of the shoulder there. A sigh. A laugh. All laden with meaning that had been growing since childhood. Dimitri seems to know these days when Felix is upset and how to ply him for answers gently. On the other hand, Dimitri hides nothing, and Felix isn’t sure how to feel about that. He glances down to where Dimitri sits against one of the support beams.

Dimitri looks nothing short of the ghosts said to walk the earth this time of year. This spell had begun around the Horsebow Moon, and by Ashe’s birthday, the mask had fallen away, and the king had begun to fray at the seams. Snappish. Docile. Frigid. Raging. Melancholy. Fragile. Dimitri is all of those things. Sometimes merely moments apart. That’s not my Dimitri, Felix’s mind insists. His heart is much wiser. This is the Dimitri he’d been fighting to meet for so long, the Dimitri that needs Felix the most.

“Dimitri, I’m finished,” Felix calls.

There’s no answer, of course. Dimitri follows Felix around without saying a word during the day. Then at night, he sets to pacing with his hands over his ears and can’t be dissuaded from it. Felix had been livid at first. He tracked Dimitri down every night solely to scream at him. Until the night he’d gone too far. Felix doesn’t recall the exact insult he’d flung. Something cruel about Dimitri finally joining his fellow specters in the eternal flames and leaving the living in peace. Dimitri’s hands fell away, and he slowly turned to Felix. Felix had witnessed a slew of horrific things in his time, many of them Dimitri’s fault. Yet, he’d never seen anything quite like the agony that tore across Dimitri’s face that night. 

Felix’s mouth ran dry, and he’d frozen like a startled hare. Dimitri grew paler than any living thing should while staring at his hands. Their tremors were enough to rattle Dimitri’s entire body like a leaf. Felix wondered if his knees would give out. The shaking ceased, and Dimitri slowly began to make his way to Felix like a lion stalking its prey. Emerging from the thick fog with the wind whipping his cape and the moon shining down bright upon him, Dimitri looked like something out of Felix’s worst nightmares.

“I’m not dead,” Dimitri said when he reached Felix. It sounded like a question—a plea. “I’m not dead. I’m not dead.” He repeated over and over. Felix’s tongue was leaden in his mouth. He can’t say for sure how long Dimitri went on like that before collapsing to his knees. He reached for Felix but stopped just short of touching him. 

“I’m not dead... Am I?” Dimitri asked in a whisper. 

Felix felt like the world was caving in on them at that moment. He’d gotten his hands on Dimitri instead and pulled him so close it must have been impossible to breathe. 

“No, you’re not. You’re not dead. You’re alive, Dimitri. You’re alive. ” 

He and Dimitri cried enough tears to fill the wretched fountain that night.  

“Please…don’t leave me alone with them,” Dimitri sobbed. “I don’t speak to them anymore, but they won’t leave me alone.” 

For the first time, Felix considers the idea that maybe Dimitri was finally trying to escape his ghosts.

“I won’t,” Felix promised. “I won’t leave.”

“Don’t die,” Dimitri wheezed between tears. “Don’t leave and don’t die. Not before me. Please! You can call me names. You can hate me. Just don’t die before me. ” 

Felix detests empty promises, but at that moment, he couldn’t have refused Dimitri. “I’m not leaving,” He whispered into Dimitri’s hair. “And when our time comes, I’ll let you go first. Until then, just...stay where I can find you. Just stay close to me and it'll all be fine. All right?”

“All right, all right,” Dimitri agreed easily. 

True to his word, Dimitri hasn’t been out of Felix’s sight since then.

Felix slides off the roof, landing lightly on his feet as he considers the rest of their afternoon. Fruit-picking seems suitable. It’s physical enough to keep Dimitri grounded without the risk of sparring when unwell. One of the more pleasant discoveries of the garden had been an apple tree. The fruits aren’t too sweet and are nice enough to look at. Best of all, Dimitri will eat them when he can’t stomach anything else. 

“Let’s get some apples,” Felix says. Dimitri follows. 

Felix has learned that the plump low-hanging fruit isn't as tasty as the modest, somewhat deformed apples that grow from the center.  Were he more like Ashe, he could probably find a metaphor there. Felix considers how to best get to the apples without the ladder. The branches are rather weak from malnutrition. Before he can solidify a plan, the ground is stolen from underneath him. Felix does not yelp, but the sound he makes is something that will go with him to the grave. His heart, the traitorous thing that it is, fills with fondness once the fear is gone. It just goes to show how unnaturally strong Dimitri is that he can hoist Felix onto his shoulders like a child.

“I could’ve gotten a ladder, you know,” Felix chastises without any real heat. Dimitri merely tightens his grip on Felix’s thighs. “All right, a little to the left then.” 

Winter

Felix wakes all at once. 

It’s early.  Even earlier than he rouses himself to train before attending to the Royal Advisor’s duties, followed by the Duke’s duties, followed by whatever other nonsense that demands his personal attention that day. Lately, it was all getting to be a bit much. He’d barely visited the garden the last few weeks. ( And yet, he chastises himself, he’d somehow found the time to warm Dimitri’s bed every night since Founding Day. )

Felix evaluates his surroundings with a few flicks of his eyes across the room. The doors and windows are shut. The few pieces of furniture Dimitri keeps aren’t enough to hide behind, and the bed is too low to wriggle underneath without notice. The only movement in the room is the faint glimmer of the ashes in the fireplace and the rise and fall of Dimitri’s chest. No intruders, then. Hmph. Something wrong with his own body, then? He’s trained it so well that he never rouses at night, be it from hunger or need of the chamber pot. He’s vaguely surprised to find his hand grasping the dagger beneath his pillow.

“What is it, dearest?” Dimitri murmurs. 

Felix shivers a bit despite the room still being quite warm. Dimitri’s voice is always pleasant, but on the rare occasion that he does sleep, his voice takes on a raspy quality that makes Felix want to spend the day in bed. Not sleeping. Felix isn’t sure how to answer. The buzzing in the back of his skull tells him that something is wrong, yet he can find nothing amiss. 

“Hm?” Dimitri prompts him gently, his thumb circling the jut of Felix’s hip in a way that makes Felix’s heart skip about his chest. 

“It’s nothing,” Felix sighs. Perhaps he’s becoming a paranoid old man already. Slowly, he relaxes his grip on the hilt. Dimitri hums, and Felix feels himself blush a bit as that blue eye traces patterns across his skin. He isn’t brave enough to let his own eyes wander that freely just yet. Instead, he smooths his hand across Dimitri’s hair, secretly adoring the way it makes Dimitri purr, his eyelid drooping. “Go back to sleep, Dimochka.”

Dimitri hums his assent, pulling Felix closer until they’re burrowed beneath the furs. 

“I suspect it’ll be a rather hectic morning,” Dimitri whispers into the hollow of Felix’s neck, almost asleep again. 

“Why’s that?” Felix asks, nearly under again as well. 

“Mm? Oh, you were already asleep, weren’t you?  Winter’s come early this year. It started snowing a few hours ago.”

“Ah, snow,” Felix says. That would make sense. Every child of Fargeaus has a preternatural sense for the coming of winter. Suddenly, the buzzing in his mind ramps up tenfold. He jolts upwards.

Dimitri gasps in surprise and sits up as well. “Felix? What’s wrong, beloved?”

“Nothing! I’ll be back,” Felix says so quickly that the words slur together. 

He barely gets on his boots before he’s dashing through the halls in nothing but his nightclothes. He pays no heed to the knights that call after him, a string of “dammit, dammit, dammit!” falling from his lips all the way to the garden. It’s worse than Felix thought. The snow is already up to his calves. He runs to the shed, legs sufficiently numb by the time he reaches it. The cold metal of the lock scrapes his skin as he yanks it. Fuck! Of course, it’s locked, and he has no key. Deciding that a shed door could be replaced, Felix kicks the door in, too numb to feel the splinters. He grabs as much burlap and wire as he can. He’d watered everything yesterday and just spread fresh mulch last week, so maybe, maybe they’d survive. Felix, despite the numbness, can feel when he smacks right into Dimitri. 

“Dimitri! Move!” He insists. “They won’t make it if I don’t hurry!”

Dimitri, of course, is still a beast who can’t follow instructions. He disregards Felix’s command and wraps him in his lion-fur cloak even as Felix struggles. 

“They’re fine,” Dimitri says.

“They’re… what?”

Dimitri leads Felix to the flowerbeds, barefoot, to Felix’s horror. He brushes away the snow as if it were just a light dusting and not piled up knee-high. The flowers are swaddled in cloth and caged. 

Felix is at a loss for words. Embarrassment and relief clash in his belly. 

“‘Us,’ remember?” Dimitri says.

 Felix nods as he tucks the cloak a bit tighter around himself, “Us.”

To his mortification, Felix is laid up in bed for almost a week after his exposure. Dimitri is fine, of course, and suspends his royal duties to tend to Felix, who is too weak to fight him about it. The moment Felix’s temperature comes down, he forces the king away and crawls to his own desk. They’re buried in their respective paperwork for a fortnight before the majority of the staff are sent away for the season. Without the garden to tend to, Felix finds himself getting restless. All he can do is stare at the endless expanse of whiteness, hoping their efforts haven't been wasted. The discomfiting truth is he’d begun to enjoy the caretaking. Ridiculous. With no garden to tend to and fewer weapons to upkeep, Felix’s attention goes to Dimitri instead, even more so than it had in the fall. Like with the garden, Felix finds him easier to manage with constant upkeep rather than emergency restoration.

If he minds the extra attention, Dimitri keeps those thoughts to himself. He never complains. Not when Felix lectures him to eat more. Not when Felix fixes his haphazard attempts at styling his hair. Not when Felix drags him to bed the moment he yawns regardless of what he’s doing. Not when Felix solicits Dimitri’s opinion on things so minor that they shouldn’t warrant opinions at all, like if he’s happy with the new layout of his desk or not. Dimitri doesn’t shy away from the difficult questions, either. 

Does Dimitri feel like he doesn’t deserve new clothes? 

What do the voices in his head demand now that Edlegard’s fallen? 

Would it be better if Dedue took Felix’s place?  (Felix will never admit how relieved he felt upon hearing a “no” for that question.)

Dimitri must be feeling equally as bored once his mind begins coming together again. Why else would he ask such inane questions about Felix's favorite things? About his favorite sword techniques or how he prefers his eggs. Why else would he replace the broken heel on Felix’s favorite boots unprompted? Or ask the chef to make the stew extra spicy, knowing that spices make Dimitri ill? There’s no reason for any of it. Boredom. It has to be boredom because the alternative makes Felix feel like screaming. 

Spring

“Felix,” Dimitri says. “Won’t you join me for a stroll?”

Annette and Mercedes begin to giggle behind their teacups. Byleth, Ingrid, and Sylvain pause their croquette game to exchange a look that immediately annoys Felix. Ashe and Dedue at least have the decency to pretend they aren’t just as delighted, but Felix notes the way Ashe conceals his smile with whatever fairytale he’s reading. He doesn’t know what to make of the sharp nod Dimitri and Dedue exchange.

“Sure,” Felix says, gesturing rudely at Sylvain when he begins to whistle. 

The spring air is fresh and light. The once craggy path has been smoothed. The new crest-shaped fountain gurgles happily. The garden has become home to a number of squirrels and birds that love nothing more than to torture Felix just because he won’t overfeed them like the rest of the castle. They pass some researchers who are in awe of the flowers being successfully cultivated from such old seeds and promise to talk with them later. Felix thinks they’ll stop at the gazebo, their favorite place, but instead, Dimitri takes a sharp turn, and suddenly he’s gone. Felix blinks at the hand that peaks through the vines a moment later.

“Huh, a secret garden,” Felix says as he looks around. “How did I not notice it?” 

“Well, it wouldn’t be a very good secret if you had,” Dimitri says. “She used to bring me here. Watch your step.”

Immediately, they’re plunged back into that wildness that Felix appreciates, except it’s clear someone’s been here. 

“We could’ve eaten lunch with the others,” Felix says as he inspects the picnic blanket. The opening of the garden is quite an achievement, but this is a bit overkill. Dimitri has laid out a veritable feast. “What’s all this then?”

“Something either very good or very bad is about to happen,” says Dimitri. “Either way, there’s wine.”

Felix snickers. “You’re beginning to sound like me. It’s strange.”

“I cannot deny your influence upon me,” Dimitri agrees. 

Felix can feel Dimitri’s eye on him as he wanders the area, but it doesn’t bother him. With any luck, he’d feel its weight bearing down on him for decades to come. 

“I never answered you properly,” Dimitri says. “About why I wanted to restore this place.”

“Hmm,” Felix hums to show he’s listening, a habit he’s found soothes Dimitri greatly. In all fairness, Felix hadn’t really asked beyond demanding to know whether or not Dimitri was doing this to appease a ghost. Upon finding out that he wasn’t, Felix had felt little need to pry. 

“While my mother was the one to curate them, there’s a bit of a family tradition surrounding these grounds... I’d like to revive it.”

“Oh?” Felix says, observing a cupid surrounded by lily pads in the pond. 

“I do, however, require a bit of assistance,” Dimitri says nervously. “If you don’t mind.”

“Don’t be coy. You know I don’t,” Felix says. “What do you need?”

“Surely you’ve noticed the flowers strewn about by now,” Dimitri says.

“I have,” Felix says. He has an inkling but bites his tongue.

“Gather them for me?” Dimitri asks.

“Fine.” 

Felix takes his time walking the perimeter, going whichever way pleases him. His mind works itself over trying to remember the deluge of flower meanings Dedue and Ashe had imparted upon him.

Daisies. Felix rather likes them. Simple. Fresh.

  A new start. 

Next, he finds carnations in white and red varieties. They have a nice texture.

Pure love. Deep affection. 

Felix is surprised to see peonies. They don’t do well in Fodlan, apparently. They’re more beautiful than the illustration in the almanac gave them credit for. 

Honor. Good fortune. 

The bright orchids would be difficult to miss. They’re delicate and exotic relative to their peers. Not something Felix would pick for himself, but he can appreciate them.

Beauty. Strength. 

Felix doesn’t normally care for roses, but these are some of the most amazing roses he’s ever seen, fresh and fully-bloomed and deep, deep red. 

No explanation is needed. 

When Felix stumbles upon the last of the flowers, creamy white roses, his heart begins to pound. 

Youth. Everlasting love. 

Marriage.

Felix finds some ribbon, bits of lace, and smooth wrapping paper leading back to the pond where Dimitri waits. He’s suddenly very glad Ashe had forced him to practice making bouquets as a part of his training. It’s still rather discordant in the end, both from Felix’s lack of skill and the odd mix.

“That’s a lot of nerve you have, making me assemble my own bouquet.” If Felix’s voice is a little thicker than usual, it’s only due to an allergic reaction, he’s sure. “I should punish you for that.”

“If it’s any consolation, I did grow everything in it,” Dimitri says. “Under supervision, of course.” 

“That much is obvious. Castle Fhirdiad wouldn’t still be standing otherwise.” 

“I hope…” Dimitri swallows. “I’m afraid I’m no wordsmith. I hope my intentions are clear enough.”

Felix is a man of action. But for once, he’d like the words, too. “Leave no doubt in my mind. Say exactly what you mean.”

Dimitri worries his lip for a moment then brandishes a moonflower from his pocket. 

“If I were to compare myself to a flower, I’d be one of these. Rather plain. Requiring an excessive amount of care. Unable to survive outside of the darkness. They’re practically a symbol of death. Most people don’t have the patience for them. But you...you’ve never been afraid to weather the darkness. Not for them...and not for me. You, you’re like this orchid. Rare and beautiful. It would be a sin to keep you for myself, and yet, I long for nothing more than to covet you.” 

The frail hope in Dimitri’s eye gives Felix all the strength he needs to meet that insecurity head-on.

“I see,” Felix nods. “I must admit I’m flattered. I can’t imagine what I’ve done for you to paint such a grandiose picture of me in your head. I hate to break it to you, but that’s not who I am.” Felix points to the orchid for emphasis. “That’s not all moonflowers are, either. Aren’t you forgetting something? Moonflowers are also a symbol of growth. Overcoming adversity. People prize them as something that thrives despite its surroundings. When it’s cloudy, they open up wider. When it gets cold, they drive their roots even further into the earth. Even when they appear to be dead, they come right back the next year.” Felix can’t keep the fondness out of his voice as he thumbs at Dimitri’s cheek. “True, they’re a bit of a pain in the ass, but when they’re treated right, they’re some of the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen.”

Dimitri flushes as pink as the carnations. “Even so, does such a flower deserve a place in your heart?”

Felix sets aside the elaborate bouquet in favor of snagging the moonflower. 

“My heart needs only one flower, Dimitri. And it’s not this one,” Felix says as he tosses it aside.

Dimitri takes Felix’s hand in his own. The ring he holds is simple but even at a glance, one can see it was crafted with all of the precision of a fine blade. 

“Then, would you be opposed if I were to take up residence there?”

“Dimitri, you’ve always been there,” Felix says as he points to his chest. “You will always be there. Now stop stalling and put on my stupid ring.”

Dimitri’s grin goes impossibly wide, lighting up his face from within. Dimitri may call himself a moonflower, but to Felix, he is the sun. Bliss is the only way Felix could hope to describe the elation he feels when their lips meet. It’s the most perfect he’s ever felt. No anger. No sadness. Just contentment and maybe even a dash of hope. Of course, because he is Felix, and the goddess has a personal vendetta against him, the peace can’t last.

“Aww!” Cries out a female voice followed by a gasp.

Another female voice—Mercedes Felix determines—giggles. “Annie, shh!” 

Dimitri and Felix’s heads whip around to see Annette, seemingly floating mid-air. She slaps her hands over her mouth and ducks away too late. “Oh, no! I think they saw me!” She whispers much too loudly.

“Ow!” Ingrid gasps. “Ashe, you’re on my foot!” 

“Oh, Goddess!" Ashe gasps. "Sorry, Ingrid!" 

“What happened?” Sylvain shouts. “I can’t see! Did he do it? Are they making out?”

Felix turns a shade of red to put the roses to shame while Dimitri bursts out laughing. “I see secrets don’t remain secrets around here,” Dimitri says. “I’m surprised at you, Dedue.” 

Dedue peeks through the ivy, clearly abashed. “My apologies, Your Majesty,” Dedue says. “I told no one, but I believe my keeping watch was rather suspicious.”

“Not as suspicious as watching Ashe and Dimitri come and go all morning!” Ingrid says. “Any pegasus rider would’ve noticed it.” 

“C’mon, Your Majesty!” Sylvain goads from somewhere over the garden wall. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out? Ashe here can’t keep a secret to save his life!”

“What?” Ashe says. “I didn’t tell you anything!”

“Really?" Sylvain counters. "I recall you answering every question about flowers that we asked!”

 Ashe sputters. “All I said was that certain flowers are popular gifts among couples.” 

“Wait, Annette,” says Ingrid. “How did you find out?”

“His Majesty came to me and Mercie for fashion advice last week!” Annette says. “We knew it had to be for something important. Dimitri’s everyday style is rather… underwhelming. But we didn’t tell anyone!” She adds.  

“Well neither did I,” says Ingrid.

“I didn’t either!” Ashe insists. “Sylvain you tricked me!”

“True, but I didn’t go blabbing to anyone else! I’ve got my reputation to maintain, after all.” Felix can practically hear the wink in his voice.

“I kept the information to myself,” Dedue nods. 

“I told,” Byleth says.

Everyone gasps in sync. “What? Who did you tell?”

“Myself,” Byleth replies and of course doesn’t elaborate. 

Felix finally recovers enough to go and chase them into the hedges while Dimitri looks on in amusement. 

~

“It’s time for that wine,” Felix sighs as he throws himself down onto the picnic blanket. He’d finally pried Annette and Mercedes off of his ring, but the wedding talk is going to be brutal.

Dimitri chuckles as he pours them each a glass. “Would you classify today as ‘very good’ or 'very bad?’”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Felix asks. 

“I like words, remember?” Dimitri gazes at Felix expectantly. 

 Their life isn’t perfect, their past prevents that. But right now, resting beside Dimitri as the birds chirp and their friends run amok, Felix’s usual regrets fall to the wayside.

It’s the best day I’ve ever had.

Felix looks Dimitri in the eye as he says, "It wasn't bad."

Gardens might just be Felix’s new favorite place.