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As the two huddle under the furs of Felix’s bed, shielding themselves from the chill as autumn turns to winter, they find themselves far too content to pay the wind outside any mind. Rebuilding Faerghus after the war had been a full time job for them both, and it had been months since the newly appointed Duke and Margrave had seen each other face to face. They had sent letters when they could, but ink on parchment could not replace the warmth of being hand in hand once again.
The sun had set long ago, an oil lantern on the end table illuminating the room just enough for the two to see each other as they lay together. Neither of them want to fall asleep, reluctant to let precious hours together slip away. These few days together are fleeting periods of peace before they inevitably have to separate, going back to the arduous task of piecing together their damaged nation.
Sylvain is the first to speak, breathing out a whisper that still sounds loud in the silence of the room around them. He says it almost as if it’s a passing observation, but it pulls Felix right out of his moonstruck haze nonetheless.
“Goddess, I want to marry you so badly.”
Felix pulls his head away from where it’s nestled between Sylvain’s neck and shoulder as he tries to process what his lover has just said. After a quick beat, he sighs and lays his head back down onto their shared pile of pillows.
“Sylvain, you know we can’t.” He hates to have to say it out loud, but it’s something the two of them need to accept. He’s known this was coming, but he feels tears prick at his eyes anyways.
“Not yet. But soon.”
Felix’s eyes flick back up to meet Sylvain’s. He sees something so tender and genuine that any words he had died before they could reach the air.
“I’ve been in contact with Dimitri.” The two of them still insist on calling their new King by his first name. “I asked a favor of him.” Felix’s eyebrows crease in a silent request to continue.
“He’s making changes to the law. So that any two people who love each other can marry. I wasn’t going to tell you until we could make it official, but,” he chuckles, “I guess I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”
Felix rushes out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and he swears he feels the world stop turning. From the start of their relationship, he had accepted that he could never have this, that Sylvain would eventually resign himself to settling down with some noblewoman, and what they had now would be reduced to stolen kisses when nobody was looking. But this is real.
“So,” Sylvain begins, “when the time comes, will you marry me?”
And that’s when the dam breaks. Felix barrels forward to kiss Sylvain’s freckled lips as hot tears spill from his eyes. Sylvain smiles into the kiss as they move together in a familiar rhythm. Felix vaguely registers a calloused hand come up to cup his face and brush away the tears that are still falling.
Eventually they must pull away, because Felix blinks away the last of his tears to find warm hazel eyes and a gentle smile. Sylvain runs his thumb over Felix’s cheekbone one last time to dry away the last of his tear tracks.
“So.” Sylvain has that familiar playful lilt to his voice when he speaks up again. “Is that a yes?”
If he wasn’t so emotional, Felix swears he would shove Sylvain out of this bed, but he’s too drained for that. Instead, he gives a small smile and nod before pulling Sylvain in for another kiss, much gentler than the one they shared moments ago. After pulling away, Felix tucks himself underneath Sylvain’s chin, finally content to sleep knowing they’ll have the rest of their lives to steal moments like this.