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Houses Blaiddyd and Fraldarius have always had a close relationship, standing apart from any other vassal of the Kingdom. Testament to this relationship is the large suite of rooms in Fhirdiad Castle that are dedicated if not in name, then certainly in practice, to House Fraldarius. After agreeing to take over as Duke Fraldarius, Felix adopted the quarters just as his ancestors had in the past.
This was where Dimitri finds himself now, anxiously staring at the heavy wooden door.
What right do you have to ask anything of them? Glenn hovers just at the edges of his vision. The hole in his chest looked more gruesome than usual, blood and viscera slowly trickling down the once shining armor. You failed to protect me and now you’ve done the same for my home. Why are you staying hidden away in your castle while my killers still run free?
“I’m sorry, Glenn, I swear to you-” He closes his eyes against his fury, throat tight, but he can still see his eyes looking on him in disappointment.
“Your Majesty?” The specter vanishes as the door swings open. Beyond the entryway, he can see a glimpse of the rooms that he and his friends had spent hours in as children. But the memories of their time together feel distant, as if they happened to someone else.
“Rodrigue. My apologies for interrupting your preparations—I wanted to speak with Felix privately before you both departed.”
Rodrigue’s eyebrows rise slightly and an expression comes across the other man’s face that he does not know how to interpret. “Certainly, I’ll just take my leave then,” the former Duke says, bowing at the waist before taking his exit.
Stepping into the chambers, Dimitri sees that the two have already nearly completed packing for the emergency trip back to Fraldarius. He feels a wave of exhaustion wash over him looking at the neat packs of armor, rations, and weapons. Since becoming King, it seemed there was no end to the fires that arose. It is likely Felix already had the pack prepared even before they heard the news of the invasion by the Federation.
“What do you want, boar?” Felix glares, arms crossed over his chest, gloved hands tightening their grip in his sleeves.
“The Blaiddyd knights are ready to accompany you to defend and reclaim our eastern coast.”
“And the King of Faerghus found it necessary to deliver this news personally?” Felix scoffs. “What a waste of time.”
Dimitri sighs. Felix always saw through him. “I wanted to ask again that you and Rodrigue return to me alive. No matter what happens. Please, swear to me, Felix.”
Felix frowns and huffs impatiently. “I already agreed, there’s no need for me to say it again. Do your ears work at all?”
“Yes, Felix, I recall, it’s just…” Dimitri rubs at his temples, wishing not for the first time that he was able to better articulate his thoughts. Even when they had been just simple children with simple worries, he had often struggled with identifying and asking for what he wanted.
Luckily, Felix has never been shy about demanding what he deemed “fair”— whether it was more time in Fhirdiad because they had not had enough time to play all the games he had planned or a chance to join the other children in live weapons training despite being deemed still too small. Sylvain had often bemoaned the two's singular interest in weapons and training, trying and failing repeatedly to convince them to go instead into the kitchens to wheedle snacks out of the maids through transparent flattery. But Dimitri had just been grateful that his best friend often wanted the same thing he did.
Felix has always been more perceptive and courageous than Dimitri.
“We are at war, boar. You’re our King. If you can’t accept that people are going to die for you, we have no chance of beating back the Federation or the Empire.”
It feels like just another cruel joke by the Goddess, that his subjects who fight so hard to survive should die in service to a king who should have died years ago. He already knows that Felix’s wrath will be unforgiving if he voices these thoughts aloud, however, so instead he sighs and looks down, unable to meet his friend’s eyes.
“Boar. Look at me.” Felix grabs his hand in an white knuckled grip. The feeling of his hand in his own, even through the layers of glove and gauntlet, unfurls the knot of anxiety in his chest. His hand goes slack as he stares into Felix’s blazing eyes, “We will repel these invaders as we always have. Don’t you dare doubt my skills. I will come back to you.”
Dimitri feels the words he had held deep in his heart thundering to be set free, the possibilities briefly stretching like infinite starlight between them. For a brief shining moment he thinks he may finally have found the courage to say it— but instead, all he says is, “Felix. Thank you.”
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The news comes first by pegasus— an advance scout who had ridden through the night to warn the capital. But all they can tell him is that the signal for retreat had sounded and the status of the current and former Dukes Fraldarius is unknown.
Dimitri tries not to expect the worst, tries to believe that Felix will fulfill his promise to return alive. He does not breathe easy until he sees the surviving soldiers finally in view of the castle, led by Felix and Rodrigue.
Unable to wait for the group to arrive, he rushes down to the city gates to meet them, anxious to confirm their health.
“Your Majesty.” Dimitri can see in Felix’s stiff bow that he has injuries that have yet to be healed. “We failed. Fraldarius has fallen to the Federation’s forces. We expect they will march on Fhirdiad next.” he reports, teeth clenched tightly. Felix has never been good at hiding his emotions, for better or worse.
“You have served the Kingdom, Duke Fraldarius. We will reclaim your home from those vile invaders.” The ghosts are a rush of blood in his ears, a myriad of voices threatening to drown out even his own thoughts.
“That isn’t the end of my report. We were able to escape with our lives only due to Margrave Gautier’s intervention. He secured a route for us and lost his life in the process.”
The hopelessness of the war effort tightens its stranglehold on his heart. “…I see. His death is a great loss for Faerghus. I am sorry, Rodrigue. I swear to you, we will avenge his death.” What a poor King he is, unable to protect anyone. Shamefully, his heart leaps in relief hearing that the Margrave had ensured Felix’s and Rodrigue’s safety, the relief quickly blackened by guilt: Matthias had been one of his subjects as well and one that had served the Kingdom loyally for many years. All the same, he cannot help but be grateful that the two have returned to him alive, no matter the cost.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I know that he did not regret his choice, in the end.” Rodrigue’s eyes are sad but resolute. War had taught them quickly that grief was a luxury.
His father’s voice, acidic with disdain, sneers at his weakness. A good king must show no favoritism to his subjects. The Kingdom I entrusted to you is falling because you are too weak. Unable to avenge my death or even put your own emotions aside—what hope can our subjects have with such a useless King?
As the tide of the war turns ever against them, his ghosts clamor to be heard more persistently. It is becoming more difficult to avoid answering them when others are around. His heart aches seeing the wounds on his dear friend’s body. Blood mars the once bright Fraldarius teal. He is suddenly hyperaware of the lack of injuries on himself.
Pathetic. Hiding behind others again? For a moment, he can feel the warmth of the splash of blood against his face that as Glenn had been run through by an enemy lance. He had done nothing to save him.
But no. Felix had reminded him that he needs to focus first on protecting those that are still alive. Dimitri can see the exhaustion of the retreat as well as the injuries that they have sustained still pain them.
“Your duty is done. Please, let our healers tend to you.”
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Several candles have burnt out completely, but Dimitri still has reports to review, plans to approve. How many dead, when they expect the attack on Fhirdiad, how they are going to feed even their diminished forces. Though his eyes are burning, this is the least he can do as Faerghus’ King.
After two sharp knocks, the guards open the door and Felix strides in with a scowl. “You summoned me, boar?” It is understood that Dedue and Felix are to be allowed entrance into his chambers regardless of advance notice and without announcement.
“Thank you, Felix. I apologize, I know you need your rest, I just—”
“If it was important enough for you to disrupt my night, it must also be important enough to dispense with your useless dithering.”
“Ah… Yes. Of course, you are right. Thank you… for honoring your promise. For returning to Fhirdiad alive.”
Felix looks away, growling in frustration. Regret twists his hand into the sleeve of his cloak. “If we had held out a bit longer, we could have joined forces with the Gautier troops and then maybe—”
“Stop.” The command rings out sharply, louder than he intended.
Felix falls silent, turning back. His eyes are heavy with the exhaustion of a lost battle and desperate retreat, and more than that— shame.
Dimitri raises a hand to the side of Felix’s face, slowly, slowly, giving him every chance to rebuke him. “I am a failure of a king. I should treasure all my subjects equally, but I cannot. I cannot pretend that I am not thankful that it was the Margrave who lost his life instead of--” he closes his eyes, swallowing down the knot in his throat--“you.”
Felix is staring at him with wide eyes, panic clear in his gaze. Dimitri's heart stutters and beats frantically in uncertainty, but he has said too much already. The words continue to spill out.
“I cannot lose you, Felix. Not you. Please.” He draws him closer with both hands gentle at his jaw, touching his forehead to his own. The puff of his own breath reflects back at him from Felix’s lips.
“Why me?” Felix whispers. Dimitri can feel him trembling in his grip.
Maybe sometimes Felix is scared too. Maybe this time Dimitri can be the brave one for them.
Heart thundering, thoughts tangling his head into a red haze, he leans forward and closes the distance between them. Less than a few inches, and yet it feels like scaling the highest summit, every small distance a fight against a seemingly immovable force. Their lips touch, Felix’s dry and cracked from the road, noses pressing awkwardly into cheeks.
He cannot imagine a better feeling.
He holds his breath, loathe to disturb the moment. The feel of Felix’s lips on his own, even unmoving, will be seared into his heart forever.
Felix takes a sharp breath through his nose before pushing back into the kiss, surging upwards to tug him down.
They stumble backwards like that, neither willing to give the other enough room to walk properly. His heart feels so full. It feels like the culmination of months of tension that he had been unwilling to name, too afraid of being wrong.
Ever since Felix had agreed to take over as Duke, their relationship had slowly improved as they spent long hours together strategizing on how best to stabilize and protect Faerghus. It is still a long ways from the simple adoration in their childhood that he had taken for granted, but he is grateful all the same. Their relationship is still fragile, and he dared not risk breaking this precious gift— until now.
He tumbles down onto the bed as the back of his ankles hit the heavy wooden frame, Felix falling down with him and catching himself on his hands. They stop there for a moment, Felix’s dark hair draped like spilled ink over his shoulder as he stares down at Dimitri.
“If we go any further, I won’t be able to stop,” he warns, breath shaky. Dimitri shakes his head in response, undoing Felix's hair tie and drawing a gentle hand through those soft locks. His hair had always been a point of pride for Felix and Dimitri remembers being excited any time that the other boy allowed him to help braid his hair even though it was never as neat and clean as when Ingrid or Glenn did it.
“Nor I.” He pushes Felix’s tunic up to expose his stomach, prompting him to remove it entirely, baring his chest with all its scars. There are several that are shiny and pink— a telltale look of being only recently healed by faith magic. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over a wide gash, feeling breathless. A little deeper and Felix would not have returned to him.
“Stop brooding,” Felix chides.
Dimitri flips them over, pressing him into the bed and kissing down his jaw. "If I had lost you without telling you how I feel about you…” He rests his head on Felix’s chest, letting the steady beat of his heart calm his own. The firm, muscled torso that he has guiltily appreciated at training many a time— against his very fingertips!
“You know, you haven’t actually said anything about how you feel,” Felix huffs as Dimitri strokes a wondering hand over his back, settling in the gentle curve of his waist. He glances up at the comment and sees the barest hint of Felix’s bottom lip pursed in a pout.
Cute.
Dimitri forcibly represses a smile at the sight, so reminiscent of a Felix he had not seen in many years and has at times worried he would never see again. As the youngest of their group, Felix had been quick to cry if he felt any of the others were mocking or underestimating him. Young Dimitri had cultivated the ability to anticipate Felix tears with uncanny accuracy. Though he is no longer able to prevent or stop them as he had been as a child, his chest still tightens upon seeing a flicker of uncertainty in Felix's eyes despite his irritable facade.
“Oh Felix…” He has never done this before and scarcely knows what to do, but suddenly he needs to be closer, closer, his clothes an unacceptable barrier to feeling this precious man’s warmth on his skin. He sits up, briefly straddling Felix, to remove his own clothing. A rush of warmth flows through his body right down to his cock upon feeling the hardness in Felix’s pants against his own. “I need you. I cannot do this without you beside me, alive and well.”
He slides off the bed onto his knees, dragging Felix’s legs down with him, then kisses down his chest, lingering at each new scar. Reaching down to rub Felix’s arousal with his palm, marveling at the feeling of it in his hand. “Ah!” Felix’s hips buck forward seemingly of their own volition, seeking more friction, which he is more than happy to provide.
Dimitri nearly lets out a moan of his own, feeling Felix’s cock twitch and harden further. He already feels almost delirious that this is real. He grounds himself by mouthing at the junction of Felix's thigh and hip, placing his legs on his shoulders. Felix exhales shakily through his nose, eyes scrunched shut and lips pinched together tightly. He pulls down his pants and smallclothes just enough to free Felix’s leaking cock, taking only a moment to enjoy the sight before he licks at the head then takes the entire length in his mouth, pleased at how easily it fits down his throat.
“Fuck!” Felix’s eyes fly open and his hands clench in the furs of the bed as his back arches upwards, pushing deeper into his mouth. He quickly raises a hand to muffle the sounds spilling from his mouth.
Dimitri growls and pulls off his length with an obscenely wet sound. He rises up to pull his hand away, interlacing their fingers in a tight grip. “Let me hear you.”
Eyes wide, Felix nods wordlessly, cock hardening further, arousal beading at the slit and dripping down. Pleased, Dimitri effortlessly pins his hips down with his free hand and takes him back into his mouth, sinking back down as far as he can go, breathing in the scent of him at the base of his length. The head hits the back of his throat, pulsing against his tongue, causing him to swallow reflexively. The heavy weight of Felix’s cock in his mouth and throat sends shocks of pleasure through his body.
Felix whines, struggling futilely against his hold. “Boar. Move, damn you.”
With a parting lick to the base of his shaft, Dimitri obeys, slowly drawing his mouth up and back down, quickly finding a rhythm as he enjoys the feeling of his lips against the silken hardness. He is salivating like he has not done for food in years. Excess drool slides down onto the balls below and he reaches down to fondle them gently, spreading the wetness as he continues to swallow Felix down. Feeling dizzy and daring, he moves further back, stroking Felix's entrance with two fingers. “A-ah! Dimitri!” Felix whimpers and thrashes, legs clamping tight against the side of his head. “Fuck, I can’t—”
He pulls off as he feels Felix’s body tense and draw tighter, both of them panting for breath as they lock gazes. “I think I’ve loved you since before I knew what love was,” he confesses, his face shiny and wet—filthy with his own desire for him.
Felix gasps and turns away, burying his face in a pillow and crying out as his cock jumps and twitches, painting his chest white. Dimitri groans at the sight, overcome and grinding his own length into Felix’s legs, riding out his own climax as he spills himself into his smallclothes.
After catching his breath, he pulls himself back onto the bed, drawing Felix closer and holding him tight to his body, heedless of the mess between them.
“Don’t say a word,” Felix warns him, face flushed red.
“Thank you for allowing me to pleasure you.” Dimitri smiles.
Felix groans— in exasperation rather than pleasure. “Why do you have to say things in the worst possible way?'“
As the king, Dimitri's bed is the biggest in the castle, wider than it is practical. Squished together in the center of the bed, curled face to chest laying on their sides, they continue to hold each other close in a comfortable silence, heartbeats and breaths slowly calming. Soon, Dimitri and Felix will have to convene with the war council to devise a plan to avoid losing another battle, another piece of their homeland in a war that has already taken so much from them. But for now, just for a moment, Dimitri allows himself to feel—happy.
Felix tightens his arms around him. “How am I supposed to be your Shield if I can’t even defend my own home?” he whispers brokenly, gripping tighter to his back.
Dimitri is silent for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking. “I know you are one of our most skilled warriors— and I am a poor king to ask this of you. This is a role that no one else can fulfill. Protect my heart by staying alive,” Dimitri begs, laying desperate kisses upon his head in supplication. “Stay beside me. Please.”
Felix lifts his head from his chest and looks up at him, so beautiful with his hair loose and still mussed from their earlier activities. Dimitri feels breathless as Felix slides his hands into his hair and grasps his face in both hands. “I swear, I will fight and we will both survive this war,” Felix promises fiercely, eyes bright. Gaze softening, he pulls Dimitri gently forward, touching his forehead to his own. “My king.”
And despite the voices hissing that they are naïve fools—Dimitri believes him.