Chapter Text
The sun is high in the sky when Dedue opens his eyes. The light filters dimly through his half closed curtains. He did not take the time to close properly when he arrived last night after long hours of work. His king and him had to work late to finalize the documents declaring Duscur's restitution to its people, but for such an important work he wouldn't mind spending more nights working instead of sleeping.
This morning, he wakes long after dawn, something he could never have done in time of war. One of the many reminders that they are in times of peace, at last. Still, he thinks this is no reason to laze around. His and king Dimitri's work is not over yet. He raises up and sits on the side of his mattress, letting his mind wander and he stretches his arms above his head.
They have never been closer to finally make reparations for Duscur. Since king Dimitri and his first trip to his land of birth to seize the amount of work they would need to do, much progress had been done. The separation of Duscur and Kleiman's territory, the enlistment of willing artisans, the rebuilding of houses and villages, the search of its people scattered across Fódlan after their attempted genocide to inform them that they could return safely to their homes...
Duscur is almost its own land again, with its own people and culture. The only thing waiting to be done now, is what his Majesty finished last night. An official paper, king Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd of Faerghus reclining his authority over the land of Duscur and handing it to its people. Finally, after years of hard work, Duscur would be returned to its people.
But it's not just the restitution of his land. Duscur people are making their places in Fódlan, even as they have the possibility to return to their land. Some of them decided to stay where they rebuilt their life after the Tragedy, and Dedue can understand them perfectly. Though at first he hated this kingdom, with time he has made his place in it, and he can hardly see himself leaving anywhere outside of this castle, or leaving King Dimitri's side.
Dedue feels that he belongs there. He chose to, the day he decided to follow king Dimitri during the war to the gates of Enbarr. He chose to follow him anywhere and do anything necessary to make of Faerghus a kingdom that would be proud to boast of Duscur blood. Today he feels that it is the case.
Dedue remembers too well the discomfort he felt the first time a maid called him Lord Molinaro. He had to take a moment to understand that she was speaking to him. Before his bedazzlement, she asked if he preferred that she call him Lord Dedue. As he tried for minutes to explain to her that it was very fine if she simply called him Dedue, he understood his Majesty's discomfort during their academic days, of the formality he always displayed when they were brothers in arms.
Which brings his mind another of his concerns, in those day where they are so close to finally achieve their long held dream. He never held on to the formal speech with his Highness back then because he wanted to, but because he felt like it was a necessity. He thought it could mean nothing good if people knew of their closeness, when their were already rumors about him. He did not need his bad reputation to tarnish his Highness's. But the truth is that calling him his friend is what he always wanted. He was able to tell him one time, use his given name.
Dimitri...
Dedue thinks that maybe it will be time. In days of peace, as Duscur is repaired beyond anything he could hope for and Fódlan accepts his people without looking down on them, he thinks that he can finally call his Majesty... Dimitri. They can finally stand together as equals, without the fear that it might seen bad for his king.
Fully dressed and ready to begin his day, Dedue steps out of his room. In the corridors, he crosses the path of a maid and tries not to flush when she bows to greet him back. It has never been easier for Dedue to feel what his king might have felt in the past, and be sorry for him. He cannot imagine if the roles were reversed, if it was him who refused to call him Dedue and insisted on called him Lord Molinaro. If no one called him by his given name, even the man he considered his closest friend. Things would be quite lonely.
Dedue thinks about his king who always insisted that he called him by his given name and consider them as friends, during years, and Dedue had always found excuses to decline. He decides that today would be changing that.
But then he remembers the last time he indulged in his Majesty's wish, and said his name. It felt so strange on his tongue, but so familiar. Dimitri. It was like going back to years and years earlier, when he was saying his name so casually, when there was not yet this barrier of protocol between the two of them. When they were as close as friends, and he had not yet the understanding why they could never be as closed as he wished.
Dedue had not realized it was his Majesty's wish to hear him say his name. He knew of course he wanted it, because he had repeated it again and again. But it was not before he revealed that Dedue saying that they could not be friends yet was a terrible thing to hear that he realized that maybe, only maybe he put the same importance as he did in their relationship. It was not before he uttered those three syllabus and watched his prince's face light up as his own cheeks flared up that he understood how much he wanted for them to be more than a prince and his vassal, and that the feeling was reciprocated.
Dedue steps in the kitchens, looking around for remaining food he could quickly eat as breakfast before joining his king's side. He is greeted with smiles from the cooks working here, who know him well after his frequent visits to cook something for his king and himself, when he is in the mood. But as he eats rests of bread lying around and grabs an apple to eat on the way to his Majesty's office, he takes notice of something.
He can not say Dimitri's name, not without loosing all of his nerves. It has been so long since he said his name so casually, as a friend. The most recent time was many many, many moons ago and then, he remembers feeling incredibly flustered. That is not how he is supposed to say his friend's name. That is not how he says Ashe or Mercie's name. But he supposes it is because he has always called them by their name. It is only... a matter of habit.
“Di... mitri.” Dedue mutters lowly in the corridors of the castle. There is no one to hear him says this name, even less the one to whom it belongs, and yet he stumbled on the sound and he already feel his heartbeat increase. That won't do it. It is only a matter of habit, so all he has to do is practice, he thinks... But he told himself that he would call his king his friend today. He has no intention on backing up, not when he will soon make the last trip to Duscur before it is finally done. Before their dream is reached.
Dedue clears his throat, and tries again. “... Dimitri.”
At least, this time, he did not get stuck on the first syllable. That is progress. But as his steps take him closer to his king's quarters, he feels more and more nervous. Without any reasons to be, evidently. His Majesty... Dimitri always wanted them to be friends. He would only be happy to hear Dedue call him by his name instead of his title. His happiness would mean a great deal to the Duscur man. Especially since he seemed so stressed out the night before, when he had just put his royal seal on the declaration of independence for Duscur.
Dedue stops right in front of the thick wooden door and clears his throat once again. He will make his friend happy today, he decided so.
“Dimitri.” He murmurs, low enough so that no one will hear him. Not even himself, so he cannot be sure of the intonation of his voice.
“Dimitri.” But at least he can let the sound roll off his tongue and taste how it feels in his mouth to be used to it when he would say it. So that he would not feel as though he was speaking a foreign language or a forgotten spell.
“Dimitri...” Dedue sighs for the last time, and finally, raises his closed fist to knock on the door.
“Yes, Dedue! Come in.”
Dedue hears the immediate response. He is no longer surprised that his king is familiar with his knocking pattern, even if it is not a fancy one. He is only attentive to the people around him this much. Dedue pushes the door open and braces himself for his task.
In the office, there stands his king, leaning over his work desk where are still scattered the drafts for the Duscur declaration of independence they spent the last night to write. He seems to search for something amongst the numerous papers, but when Dedue steps inside he raises his blue eye to him with a smile. Even though he now ties his golden hair back with a dark blue band, there are still locks escaping the tie, falling on his forehead and framing his face.
King Dimitri looks nothing like his old self. Dedue remembers being able to clearly see the darkness lying behind his clear blue eyes, even as a teenager. But since the war has ended, he can see that he is at peace. Or maybe it is because now, all of his efforts are directed toward Duscur, the land he had promised to make reparations to.
Dedue can see it, his king has… softened. It is a strange thing to notice. He thinks he remembers that in general cases, the task of being a king, or only in a position of high responsibilities, often made men sturdier, more weary and worn out. But not his king. He is at peace in that position, he believes. He likes to think that he is no stranger to his Majesty’s peace. As his vassal… and friend, it is his task to take as many of his burden off his shoulders as he can.
“Good morning Dedue.” Dimitri greets him before resuming his search amongst the papers spread on his desk. He seems to finally achieve his task, taking in his hands what Dedue remembers is the paper in which they made notes for the nearing trip to Duscur.
“Good morning Dimitri.” Dedue manages to greet back, without stuttering or feeling his cheeks on fire, which he thinks is a great feat in his opinion.
“I was just on my way to-” Dimitri suddenly stops in his tracks and stares at Dedue, quiet. The taller man then fears that he may have done something wrong. Should he have waited? But it makes little sense in his mind, since his king never stopped insisting for him to call him by his name. “D-did you say...?”
“Dimitri.” Dedue nods, and in the same time he manages to read his friend's emotion. It is not displeasure. Only surprise. He supposes he did take him by surprise. “I only thought, with the reparations to Duscur almost finished, I could call you my friend...”
“Yes! Yes of course, that... I'd like that very much.” Dimitri smiles again, staring at Dedue as though he just did something miraculous that he wanted for his entire life.
Dedue thinks he probably did. They both fall silent, contemplating... he not quite sure what. Their friendship, the deep bond running between them that they finally managed to put a name onto. He feels relieved and a little bit nervous at the same time. He will be able to call his friend by his name, and finally break this habit of protocols he installed between them for his Majesty's sake. But he is not sure if he will be able to break his habits so quickly, or if he does so, that it would seem too foreign for the both of them. Too different from the usual feeling of familiarity that has always been between the two of them.
“I'm sorry” Dedue realizes. “You were saying...”
“Ah, yes!” Dimitri realizes too, snapping out of his own thoughts. He looks down at the paper in his hands with a form of... Dedue would call it disappointment, but he is not sure what could make his friend feel that way. “I was on my way to the stables, to organize your departure.”
Understanding quickly comes to Dedue. “You will not be able to come yourself then.”
Dimitri shakes his head. They had considered this possibility, after his many travels to Duscur. It is not advised for a king to stay away from his throne for too long, and he has yet many thing to do for his kingdom, now that the entirety of Fódlan is unified under his reign. He has yet to open wider communication roads between Firdhiad and the former Adrestian Empire and Lanceister Alliance, negotiate with reticent nobles, and try to be accepted by everyone so there would not be a revolution after a change so drastic as the merging of three former powerful territories with their own cultures and customs.
“But I believe you will do perfectly on your own. I trust you with this, just like every thing else.” Dimitri takes the official document with his royal seal, and hands it to Dedue.
Dedue takes it in his hands with the same delicacy he would use with something incredibly valuable and fragile. It is, to him. This only paper will achieve Duscur's rebuilding. It will give back his lands to his people.
“Thank you Y-... Dimitri...” This time Dedue, feels his cheeks grow warmer, because of his slip up. He will have to break his old habits.
Dimitri chuckles. “Do not worry about it.”
When Dedue sees the joy in his eye, he thinks that he has indeed little to worry about.