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Dinner is extravagant— a little too much. Felix is immediately suspicious, but Dimitri laughs when Felix asks him if he's trying to apologize for something.
"You've been gone for two months, my love. Is it so hard to believe that I simply missed you?"
"Hmm,” Felix says thoughtfully. He looks at the impressive dinner laid out before him, and then he looks at Dimitri, who he hasn't seen in weeks, and he says, "I didn't think we would be eating." He looks at Dimitri meaningfully; he sees him look at the display of food, and then at Felix. Felix can see him warring with himself. No doubt he'd planned out some grand romantic night to celebrate Felix's return, but Felix is realistic enough to know that the two of them likely won't get to eat for quite a few hours.
Dimitri hasn't seemed to come to that conclusion, yet, is still fighting that internal war between a romantic reunion and ripping Felix's clothes off. It's only a matter of time until he reaches his decision, the same one he always ends up reaching, judging from the way he's looking at Felix.
"We can eat later," he says.
Later comes (as do both of them), and by the time they're both cleaned up and dressed, dinner is cold.
"Do you want me to ask the kitchens to make something else?” Dimitri asks anxiously. Felix shakes his head.
"Don't be absurd, this is fine. I'm not so spoiled that I need a hot meal.”
Dimitri smiles. “It's not so long ago I would have been happy with any meal, let alone a hot one." That was true. So much had happened so quickly that it was hard to believe that it had only been a year since the war ended.
"Speaking of," Felix says. “How are plans going for the celebration?"
Dimitri makes a funny sort of face. "I've never been good at party planning. Hilda has taken complete control over it, something that will either end very well or very poorly."
They eat, and they catch up. Dimitri fills him in on what has been happening in the capital, and Felix talks about Fraldarius. Some of it is inconsequential nonsense; some of it they had already discussed in their letters. It doesn't matter. Felix likes listening to Dimitri talk, and Dimitri likes listening to Felix talk, too, judging from the dopey smile he's giving him.
"Will you stop looking at me like that?” He asks, a blush rising to his cheeks. Dimitri chuckles.
"Apologies,” he says, although, for what its worth, he doesn't stop fucking looking at him like that. "I enjoy listening to you."
Felix pulls a face. "I'm talking about crop cycles."
"Yes,” Dimitri says, resting his chin on his hand. "It's very interesting."
Felix snorts and keeps eating. "What is wrong with you?"
"I missed you,” Dimitri says. "It's so quiet without you. We haven't had a duel in the halls since you've been gone."
Felix tries to stifle a smile. "Yes, well, if your damn council would stop trying to pass stupid laws all while standing in your way, then I could stop challenging them to duels."
Dimitri's laugh is fond, and it makes warmth bloom like a garden in Felix's chest.
"They're just trying to save the Kingdom money."
"You know what else would save the Kingdom money?" Felix grumbles. "Cutting your council in half."
Dimitri laughs. It's something he's been doing a lot more of, lately, and it never stops making Felix's heartbeat faster.
"With how old many of them are, we need only wait a few years."
Felix thinks about this. About the future. They have so much to do. Felix has a schedule for the next goddamn decade. Rebuild the Kingdom, build loyalty in the old Empire and Alliance territories, research and deal with whatever weird shadow organization was causing trouble; they had to deal with both Sreng and Duscur and the sins of their fathers, had to ensure the citizens were properly supported during such a vulnerable time, had to deal with taxes and trade routes and a whole list of terribly boring things. It was exhausting to think about. It was terrifying to think about. Felix had trained with a sword for his whole life, and now he's swapped it out for a pen, and scribbling his signature at the bottom of very important, very long, very dull documents was not nearly as gratifying as fighting.
It was almost funny; Felix had spent so long fighting against this life and this role, and sometimes it still feels like he's standing in shoes that are too big for him— but standing by Dimitri's side feels right. It feels like where he is supposed to be.
It can't last. He knows that, that this happiness is not meant for him. That eventually Dimitri would have to do his duty as king and find a wife, make some heirs. It’s a thought that torments him and keeps him up at night. Someone from the Empire, maybe. Felix tortures himself constantly by imagining her, some faceless beauty standing by Dimitri's side, sitting in the queen's throne, spending nights in his bed, touching and learning Dimitri's body. She'll know it better than Felix, one day.
He shouldn't be thinking this. He should be taking advantage of the time he does have with Dimitri, for however long Dimitri wants him. Felix had known since he was a child that Dimitri had a duty to the Kingdom that was far more important than any personal loyalties. He'd just been an idiot and fallen in love with him anyway.
"I need to ask you something," Dimitri's voice cuts through Felix's spiralling thoughts, and he focuses on him gratefully.
"Okay.”
Dimitri smiles, but he doesn't speak. Felix waits, but Dimitri still doesn't say anything. Felix waits. Dimitri stays silent.
"Dimitri, " he finally snaps.
"Sorry," Dimitri says, “I am… extremely nervous."
"Just tell me," Felix says, but he says it a little more softly. "It’s me." You can tell me anything. We've both seen each other at our worst.
Dimitri smiles and then takes a breath. “I've been thinking about this past year that we've been together. I truly don't know what I would have done without you. You kept me sane, which," Dimitri makes an awkward sound, like he's not sure whether to laugh or cough, "is not always an easy feat. And thinking about the future, and all that I wish to accomplish… that we wish to accomplish... knowing you will be at my side every step of the way makes the future seem not as scary. I never in my wildest dreams would have thought I'd be able to have this kind of relationship with you." He leans across the table and cups Felix's cheeks, and Felix draws him in for a kiss.
It will be their last.
Dimitri pulls away. "I love you," he says. "I will never be able to love anyone the way I love you. Marry me, Felix. Walk by my side in every possible way."
At first, all Felix feels is joy. Dimitri loves him. Dimitri wants to marry him. Dimitri wants to marry him, and Felix wants to say yes. For one glorious moment Felix imagines it— imagines saying yes. Marrying him. Standing up in front of the country and the goddess and being able to say, this man is mine. He may be your king, but he is my everything.
And then reality crashes over him like a bucket of ice water. A future he can't have.
"Dimitri," he says. "They won't let you.”
"I am the king, Felix. The only one who has authority over me is the goddess, and if she doesn't want me to marry you then she can come down and tell me herself."
Felix could almost smile at Dimitri blaspheming for him, but all he can focus on is the stress and anxiety spreading throughout his body from his chest.
"You don't understand what you're asking," Felix says shakily. "What of heirs? Your Crest?"
"There are far too many orphans in the world to worry about Crests and blood. All that should matter about a king is his sense of justice and commitment to his subjects."
Dimitri had an answer for everything. The ball of anxiety is starting to spread through his limbs.
"Dimitri,” Felix says slowly. He needs him to understand. "This would taint your entire rule. All the good that you've done and have yet to do. Every single person will fight you every step of the way."
"Let them,” Dimitri says fiercely, "I can fight, too."
Felix loves him so much that it feels like he can't breathe. Dimitri would, he'd fight everyone, would rebuild Fodlan with one hand and fight for Felix with the other. Dimitri won't give up, not if Felix says yes. And he will go down in all the books with this mark on his record. Would he be remembered for any of the good he will do? Or will he give up everything for Felix?
Felix is not worth that. But Dimitri will not stop fighting, because he thinks it's what's right.
One time he'd asked his father what being the shield really meant. Rodrigue had said it meant protecting the king from everything you could. And maybe Felix wasn't exactly the most traditional of shields, but he believed in that to his very core. Protect the king. Protect Dimitri. Protect the man he loved more than anything.
Felix says, "No."
Dimitri blinks at him. He sits back in his chair. He says, "Oh." Felix's heart cracks apart in his chest.
"I just— I don't want that,” Felix lies. "Something so… long term and permanent." His nails are digging so hard into the palm of his hand that he thinks he might have broken skin. He can't quite pinpoint if it hurts or not, because every single part of Felix hurts right now. “I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice breaks, because he is. He is sorrier than he has ever been. “I don’t want that kind of life with you.”
If he just says no, Dimitri will push. If Dimitri knows Felix wants this too, he won’t back down. He’ll fight the whole goddamn world. Felix wants him to have better than that.
“Felix,” Dimitri says hoarsely. “I am… I am so sorry. I— I misread.”
No you didn’t, Felix wants to scream. Can’t you see this is fucking killing me.
“I—” he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. There’s nothing to say. Nothing except yes, and that’s the one thing he can’t say.
“I think, perhaps,” Dimitri says, and the cracks in his voice feel like knives shoving into Felix’s skin, “I would like some time alone.”
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—
“Yeah,” he says gruffly, fighting back tears. “Of course.” He can’t be here anymore, anyway. He’ll break apart if he stays.
He’s at the door when he turns around. Dimitri is hunched over, head in his hands. Felix aches.
“Dimitri,” he says, and Dimitri looks up. “I’m still your shield.”
Dimitri nods. “Thank you, Felix,” he says.
It’s not enough.
Felix’s feet move him even while his brain completely stalls, out of the castle and into the streets of Fhirdiad. Blood drips down his wrist from the gouges in his palms from his nails, but he barely notices. There aren’t many places for him to turn— Sylvain and Ingrid aren’t in the capital, which really only left two people. Felix would never go to Dedue, although Dedue would likely be one of the few people who would truly understand why Felix acted the way he did— but Dimitri would need Dedue. Which means there’s only one person in the city Felix felt safe enough to go to right now, and that’s where his feet take him.
Felix knocks on Annette’s office door, and when she opens it her eyes immediately go wide. She hustles Felix into her office, sits him down on the couch, busies herself making tea, and he sits there and stares at his hands and the scars nicking his skin, sacrifices to a king and his war. The open, festering wound inside of Felix’s chest is the biggest sacrifice yet.
“Felix,” Annette says, putting the tea on the table and sitting down beside him, one hand on his knee. “Felix, what happened?”
And Felix cries, and cries, and cries.