Work Text:
Here is the damning truth:
In the moment, it really is his only idea.
Dimitri looks down at his hands, scrubbed clean for possibly the first time since they arrived at the monastery. Likely since even before that, but most of his time wandering (murdering) is a blur.
Even the moment which should be one of the most critical of his life escapes full clarity. He wishes he remembered it. At least then he might have a better sense of Felix's feelings on the matter.
Dimitri examines his hands and does not see phantom splotches of blood nor feel sticky viscera that isn't there. His hands are clean, which makes the empty space on his finger all the more noticeable.
When Felix finally finds his quarry (alive, he's alive, Felix never lost faith but to see it is something else), the boar is blind to everything except what he's decided is his duty. He sees nothing but the dead. And something about that thought, of seeing nothing but duty, feels oddly familiar.
It's made worse when he manages to prod the boar into speaking.
“There is nothing left for me. I have no family. She took them from me.”
Felix knows there's no point in arguing that Edelgard at age thirteen had no more way to orchestrate the Tragedy of Duscur than a scullery maid, and possibly even less. Logic is useless against a beast.
And yet, the only thing he can think is, I'm not gone. No one took me away.
It's his own thought. It is also very similar to a line in a chivalric romance that Felix will never admit he hadn't hated quite as much as he'd anticipated. Quite tragically for Felix, it is the same romance which included a man too consumed by duty to see the love right in front of him.
He'd like to blame Ashe for what comes next, since he never would've read the damn book without prompting. In the end, though, Felix is the one who opens his fool mouth and makes the most absurd suggestion of his entire life.
“You want family? Fine. There's got to be a chapel around here somewhere.”
The blacksmith gives Dimitri an odd look, but fulfills his request without asking any questions. It's a relief, though it might have been nice to discuss the situation with someone who has no reason to care about either party.
Then again, that would likely make it even more awkward in the future when he brings his broken weapons for repair, so it's probably for the best. He goes for a walk around the market while he waits, taking in the changes wrought by war and displacement. He's seen little of the monastery despite being back for months, and he intends to correct that mistake.
It feels as though that is most of what he does these days. He has so many things to make right.
He is still thinking of that when he returns to the blacksmith and retrieves the rings made of wootz steel. They are simple, yet clearly still well-crafted, and Dimitri tips generously.
He turns the rings over in his hands, finding it impossible not to fidget with them. In his mind, he is not sure this is the correct approach, but his heart tugs him forward unerringly. At least he does not need to wander (or worse, ask someone for help) in order to find Felix. There is only one place he could be right now.
Felix finds a trustworthy priest at the third chapel they visit. Well. That Felix visits. It's surprising enough that the boar allows him to steer their travel, though Felix supposes it makes a certain amount of sense. Imperial forces are everywhere. What does a beast care for the specifics of direction when prey abounds regardless?
There are plenty of Kingdom loyalists scattered throughout Faerghus, but few who are bold enough to display the banner, much less use it as tabernacle cloth. It's lucky that they stumbled across this place. He was nearly at the point of directing them back into Fraldarius territory, and while he's certain he could find a loyal priest there, it would come with a much greater chance of Felix being recognized. He can't handle that on top of the rest.
Obviously the priest recognizes her prince when he stalks into the chapel. Felix watches her eyes go wide, but she does not react beyond that. He feels a flash of admiration for this woman, who values the rightful heir highly enough to risk Imperial wrath, yet does not fall to her knees upon seeing proof that the prince still lives. He may not understand her values, but he appreciates that she is brave enough to keep her wits about her.
(Felix spares a moment to think of Seteth and hope that he is still alive. Seteth is no fool, but this war has taught Felix that wisdom alone is not enough to win every fight.)
Their hands are bound, and holy words are spoken over them as both blessing and command. Felix does not stumble over his part of the vows.
He used to practice them when he was a child, dreaming of impossible things. How odd that it should feel more like a dream now than it did back then.
Dimitri speaks gruffly, but he gets all the words right. Felix knows this is still the boar. He knows. And yet, there is an undeniable pounding in his chest that has nothing to do with fear, either for or of the man beside him.
He has loved Dimitri for the whole of his life. The words this priest speaks and the parchment they sign should not mean anything in the face of that. He only did this as a way to bind them together in a way that even the boar might recognize. Still, when the cloth is removed from their hands, Felix cannot deny that he feels—different. Changed.
He is a husband. He has a husband.
He tucks the parchment away as soon as the ink is dry and hands the priest a bit of coin. She does not try to refuse it, and he respects her all the more. Perhaps her pragmatism will improve the odds of her survival. He glances once more at the Kingdom banner. She needs all the help she can get.
Going by the expression on her face when they leave, she seems to be thinking the same about him.
Dimitri waits until dusk, when he can be sure that they won’t be interrupted. The only other person who has ever intruded on this space after dark is Dedue, and Dimitri already spoke with him to ask for privacy. Dedue had not asked questions, but Dimitri does not fool himself that he’s been subtle. Dedue knows of the vows they spoke in front of a holy woman. Of the way Felix willingly bound himself to a feral thing.
Though to call it willing might be doing Felix a disservice. The memory is ragged, yes, but Dimitri can recall a vague sense of annoyance at Felix’s insistence on dragging them to the outskirts of town after town in search of a chapel. If Dimitri allows himself to be mortified by his behavior back then, he will soon drown in a well of regret. Still, he is not proud of how he acted on his wedding day.
Fading sunlight cascades from newly repaired windows, striking the rubble and painting the cathedral in shadows. Felix is not by the pillar where he kept watch since the first night at the monastery. Instead, he stands before the rubble, cast half in light and half in shadow. He is beautiful, as he has always been. What a waste, that Dimitri spent years not paying tribute to that beauty.
He shakes himself, setting the thought aside. He knows already that Felix will not thank him for his regret. The best way to do right by his husband now is to commit to the future. That is why he is here now, with his hand still curled around the rings.
“What do you want.”
More than anything, Felix sounds tired. Part of Dimitri wants to take that as an excuse to put this off, but he owes Felix better than that. His footsteps echo through the room, announcing his approach with more than enough time for Felix to send him away or leave himself. Felix does neither, and Dimitri allows himself to hope.
“I intend to right a wrong,” Dimitri says, once he is but a few paces from Felix. “If you will allow it.”
Felix tenses, but he still does not turn around. “If you are here to apologize for the decision my old man made of his own free will—”
“No.” Dimitri closes his eyes. No apology would be enough to erase the pain, and he is trying not to do Rodrigue that particular disservice. “I know you well enough not to offer such things.”
Felix’s shoulders go down, though his fists are still clenched. “Then what are you here to grovel over? I’m not interested in being your confession box. I can’t absolve you of the sins you insist on claiming.”
Can’t, Dimitri notes. Not won’t. It is a small difference, but he wonders over it just the same. Still, it is not what he is here for, and he does not wish to taint this offering with such things.
He swallows. How did Felix do this before? He has always known that Felix is brave in ways that Dimitri is not, but he has a new appreciation for it now. “I am here to ask if you will allow me to be a proper husband.”
Felix makes a choked sound and finally turns, staring with utter disbelief. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Does it again. How rare for Felix to be without words. Dimitri does not think he prefers it, but in this moment, he cannot help a rush of fondness.
He puts out his hand, uncurling his fingers so that Felix can see the rings cradled in his palm. “If you wish to destroy our marriage certificate and unbind yourself from me, I will understand. I have no desire to take your choice away. But if you are generous enough to let me stand at your side, then I swear I will do so until death forces us apart.”
Felix flinches away. It is a dagger slicing through Dimitri’s ribs, cutting at the tenderness still trapped in his heart. He wants to close his hand around the rings, to run from what feels like rejection—but he can’t keep running from what’s in front of him. And certainly not from Felix.
“We’ve already been parted.” Felix’s jaw is tight, and his eyes burn. “I married a beast. Now you claim to be a man. Surely you’re changed enough that any vows between us no longer count.”
It is an accusation, at least in part. Have you really changed, or are you merely pretending again? It’s a fair concern, and he does not begrudge it. Still, he can see the goading for what it really is.
Felix is afraid. His dear, brave Felix. who bound himself to a beast, now fears loss once again. Dimitri aches with regret, with sorrow, with love.
“I have always been both,” He confesses. “I am not one or the other. If you saw only a beast and bound it so it might be leashed, then I cannot blame you. I will not hold you to that duty. But if you do choose to stand beside me, then I—forgive me, Felix, but I would prefer that it be for the sake of love.”
Dimitri has a flash of memory: the holy woman who tied their hands, eyes wide and bulging when she saw the thing that entered her church. Felix looks nearly the same now, overtaken by shock.
“Don’t do this.” Felix’s voice breaks, and Dimitri wonders if it is reflecting his heart. He longs to soothe the wounds. He hopes that Felix will accept such open care, if not now, then someday in their future. “You can’t mean that. You don’t love me, and I’m not interested in watching you try.”
The rejection stings less this time. Now that he dares to look, Dimitri can see through Felix’s deflection so easily. With no small amount of awe, he realizes what Felix cannot bear to say.
“Even after all this time?” He whispers. The thought brings a pain so deep as to be physical. He wants to refuse the idea, but he swore in that chapel to meet Felix with only the truth. “Do you really still…Felix, I swear I did not know.”
When they were children, sometimes Felix would crawl into his bed, sobbing from a nightmare. That childhood anxiety is nothing compared to the terror on his face now. “Stop. Dimitri, don’t—”
“I know I am not worthy of such unfaltering love,” Dimitri steps closer and reaches out with his empty hand. He hovers a moment, allowing Felix time to move away, but that wondrous bravery does not fail. Felix allows Dimitri to cradle his face, even as his breathing comes shallow and hard. “But I also know that you do not put stock in worthiness. Will you at least allow me to earn it? To prove that your devotion is not a mistake?”
It is the right thing to say in that it makes Felix immediately furious. The wariness in him is replaced with indignation and impatience, and before Dimitri can speak again, Felix yanks him down and slams their mouths together.
As kisses go, it is…inelegant. Their teeth clack, and even when they reposition, it’s clear that neither of them know how this is meant to go. Felix bites Dimitri’s lip, which might be enjoyable in a moment of genuine passion, but is less so in this circumstance. Still, neither of them pull away. Dimitri presses his lips to Felix’s, refusing to meet aggression with anything other than patience.
Eventually, they find a rhythm, and Dimitri thinks he can understand why Sylvain talks about this so much. Their mouths slide against each other, and Felix’s hands slide up into his hair, holding him close and refusing to let go. Dimitri does not stop kissing him until Felix loosens his grip, letting his hands rest on Dimitri’s chest. They part after one last brush of lips, gentle enough to give Dimitri a wild urge to marry Felix a second time, with a proper ceremony and friends surrounding them.
But that is a discussion for later, after he can be sure they understand each other.
When at last they have caught their breath, Dimitri once again uncurls his hand and offers the rings for Felix’s inspection. “Is that your answer, then?”
Felix flushes a bright red that Dimitri cannot find anything other than purely charming. “That depends. Will you stop being so pathetic if I wear your damned ring?”
It feels so very good to smile again. “I cannot promise not to frustrate you, nor to be less than pathetically in love with you. But I swear I will keep trying to look to the future, and I will share my burdens, just as I hope you will share yours.”
Felix closes his eyes and breathes deeply, though that does not prevent a few tears from spilling past his lashes. When he looks at Dimitri again, it is with the complete certainty in himself that Dimitri has always admired. He snatches one of the rings and grabs Dimitri’s other hand.
Dimitri is anticipating that Felix will shove the ring on unceremoniously, but instead he takes a moment, staring at Dimitri’s finger in the same way that Dimitri himself did earlier today. When he slides the ring on, it is with an undeniable air of reverence. Felix then offers his own hand, and Dimitri can barely keep from shaking as he fits his ring onto Felix’s finger.
He dares to look Felix in the eye again, and watches as Felix’s gaze darts all around his face. Dimitri does not know what he is searching for, but he is glad when Felix nods, apparently content with what he finds.
“Fine. We’ll do this properly, then.” Felix takes Dimitri’s hand in a grip just on this side of too tight. Dimitri can’t help but grin like the fool Felix has so often accused him of being. “If you’re going to keep trying, then I’ll do the same. You won’t be rid of me easily.”
“I would not ever wish to be.” Dimitri says, and Felix’s face twists in something between disgust and exasperation. Still, Dimitri feels the way Felix squeezes his hand, and he knows that his husband is pleased.
They’re squashed onto a mattress that is absolutely too small for two grown men, because while Dimitri is finally willing to sleep like a human instead of an animal, he insists that married couples ought to share a bed. He’d blushed after saying it, tacking on something about how he of course has no expectations, and he did not mean to imply anything untoward, so Felix had just rolled his eyes and dragged them both to his quarters.
Being pressed together like this should be uncomfortable, but instead Felix can feel himself starting to relax for the first time since he found Dimitri again. It’s been a long time since he allowed himself to be held, much less clung to someone in return. It’s…nice. Dimitri’s opinions about proper spousal dedication at least give him an excuse to do this without feeling like a complete fool.
Dimitri is carding his hand through Felix’s hair, and Felix quietly hopes that he never stops. He can hardly bear to admit it even in his own mind, but he has missed this closeness so terribly.
“Felix?” Dimitri whispers, as though he can’t tell that Felix is still awake.
Felix shifts one hand just enough to pinch Dimitri’s side. “What do you want now, Dimitri.”
Dimitri sighs happily and presses a kiss to the top of Felix’s head. “I do love when you say my name.”
“Okay,” Felix says, pretending that doesn’t make him want to explode with a feeling he has no coherent name for. “Fine. That’s not why you said my name, though. Either speak or go to sleep.”
Dimitri hums. “I was only going to ask why you chose this particular method of binding us together. If you are willing to explain, that is. I understand if it remains a sensitive subject.”
Felix groans and shoves his face more firmly into Dimitri’s chest. Maybe he can just hide here forever. Dimitri’s big enough that he could probably manage it.
“Felix?” Dimitri’s hand pauses, and Felix presses back into it until Dimitri takes the hint and continues his stroking. “Ah. I see. You must know that you never need to be embarrassed around me, dearheart.”
“Shut up,” Felix hisses, lifting his head just enough to smack it back down. “Stop with the—the sweet nothings or whatever. I’ll tell you. It’s just. Stupid.”
Dimitri hums again, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. Damn him. It’s nice to hear, even if it also makes Felix want to bite him. “I promise I will not think less of you. It was a difficult time, and you had few options. Legally tying us together is hardly the worst idea.”
Felix grits his teeth. Honesty. He will meet Dimitri with honesty. “I read it in a book.”
Dimitri’s hand stops again. “Pardon? I believe I misheard you, my love.”
Felix pulls back and glares up at his stupid, awful husband. “It was the plot of a book Ashe lent me, okay? The way you were talking was a lot like the hero from the story, and I just—look, I know it’s ridiculous. Shut up.”
The effort Dimitri must be putting in to hold back his laughter would be worth more if Felix couldn’t still feel the shaking in his absurdly large chest. “I, ah. I see. I’ll admit that I did not anticipate a chivalric romance to be the source of your plan.”
“I should hope not!” Felix snaps. He can feel the heat in his face, and he knows he’s blushing horribly. “And calling it a plan is awfully generous of you. We both know it was nothing more than absurdity.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure of that.” Dimitri leans down just enough to kiss Felix on the forehead. He’s so terrible. Felix hates him. (Felix loves him more than he can say.) “It worked, didn’t it?”
There are a lot of things Felix could say to that, but he elects to scoot up enough to give Dimitri a proper kiss instead. He tries not to think about how that damn book also ended with the lovers kissing in their shared bed.