Archive of Our Own

Since the end of the war, things had been quite busy in Faerghus. There was plenty to rebuild and reinforce, supply routes to check on and crop fields to replant. The country on the whole was in need of assistance, its very infrastructure, literally and otherwise, having been ravaged by battle. Cornelia had been, by no means, merciful.

That took plenty of time, particularly because Dimitri was against showing favoritism towards Faerghus in comparison to the rest of Fódlan. He had called his own council of sorts to meet within Garreg Mach and discuss a plan for the entirety of the continent to begin recovering, appointing (or rather, asking for the assistance of) some of their fellow classmates in each region to oversee things where Dimitri couldn’t. He certainly still traveled, now convinced that a physical presence was important to the citizenry, to morale, but perhaps inevitably, more of his time was spent within Faerghus itself.

It was perhaps easier on Dimitri’s health to have some steadiness, the familiarity of home as well as routine. It was bolstering as well to see the progress made, to visit the mines of Faerghus that had reopened, to see the farms start to flourish. The new united Fódlan had lifted some burden off the backs of Faerghus’ citizens, too, with the ease of trade -- it was easier to procure certain types of crops and feed for cattle from the warmer areas when Faerghus was in its depths of winter.

It was one day, during which Dimitri was happily reporting on the upward trend in Faerghus’ classic exports (kale, spinach; the sort of crops that could endure the lower temperatures) that Felix had begun to worry.

Others may have described Felix as a pessimist, but he personally considered himself an unflinching realist.

Because of that, when he and Dimitri had finally made up near the end of the war and then kissed on the day that it ended, caught up in a storm of emotions, there had been a voice in the back of his mind that said, simply, ‘this won’t last’. It might have been more appropriate to say ‘can’t’, but the result was the same no matter what.

Two years after their victory, Dimitri still seemed blissfully ignorant to what felt like a glaringly obvious truth to Felix. So Felix did what he excelled in: reminded Dimitri of painful realities that he needed to deal with.

The response he received had been almost offensively, infuriatingly simple. Dimitri did not, in fact, need a royal consort, since he apparently already had one. That had been when Dimitri had sheepishly shown Felix a ring, which resulted in some splutters, absolutely no tears, a whispered agreement, and a hug so tight that Felix felt his ribs ache in protest.

(He made no move to end it, though.)

Preparations for the royal wedding had followed rather shortly, leaving the city of Fhirdiad abuzz with excitement. The official announcement of their engagement had been met with more joyous cheers than Felix could have ever imagined. For whatever reason, it seemed that their people were fond of him, of their relationship, and were anticipating their wedding with bated breath. Everywhere he went he received congratulations and enthusiastic gushing.

It was bizarre, and baffling, but it also allowed part of Felix to relax, finally.

That, too, could not last.

Though they had not yet even reached their 30th years, Felix was, again, a realist. Faerghus’ climate has always meant that sickness could strike quickly and cruelly, and Dimitri was always going to be a target to some given his position. Thus, an heir. Sooner rather than later, Felix thought, would be wiser. To his knowledge, such a thing hadn’t crossed Dimitri’s mind at all. He’d made no mention of it, and he was skeptical that Dimitri was considering fatherhood in the immediate future, or maybe even at all.

Felix was aware that his husband loved children, of course, because that much was obvious. The attention he had put into restoring Faerghus’ schools, to making sure that the orphans of war were cared for, the way that he bent down to look children in the face when interacting with them so that they felt respected and important… If all of that wasn’t enough of a give away, the willingness that Dimitri had to pick up the young children of Fhirdiad and let them sit on his shoulders as he explored the capital and checked in on things might have exposed that secret fondness.

There was an unofficial queue, now, to ride on Dimitri’s shoulders. He was very fair, unwilling to refuse any child, wanting all to have their chance. Dimitri’s habits of mingling with his people were, objectively, foolishly dangerous, but neither Felix nor any of their mutual friends could truly bring themselves to dissuade him from it.

He was also aware, though, that his husband still harbored an enormous amount of self-doubt and loathing. That was a work in progress that went slower than the restoration of the country, really, and Felix knew that he had himself to blame for part of that. Now, at least, he was committed to making up for it. But as a consequence of that dislike of himself, Felix was certain that Dimitri wasn’t considering having children of his own, for the sake of not subjecting them to his parenting.

(Which was nonsense, in Felix’s eyes, because anyone else could easily tell what sort of father Dimitri would be. Loving, attentive, gentle, present and engaged with them, encouraging… He had, admittedly, spent more time imagining such things than the average person, though.)

Ultimately, though, Dimitri’s comfort mattered less than the royal duties he was expected to perform. That was evident more often than Felix was happy with, because he hated seeing his husband drag himself to a meeting after another sleepless night, resented it every time that Dimitri would stare off into the distance like he was somewhere else entirely. Because Felix refused to coddle Dimitri, though, he took up the role of the bearer of bad news once more.

He was usually very particular about how and when he did such things, though. Always in Dimitri’s study so that the negativity didn’t invade their private chambers, always on a better day so as to be less likely to overwhelm him.

Felix enters without knocking at this point, coming and going as he pleases. By now, Dimitri doesn’t flinch at the sound of the door opening without preamble, so Felix sees no need. When Dimitri looks up, Felix means to stay stoic, formal, but caves in nearly immediately, letting his lips curl up into a small, affectionate smile.

It’s worth it for the way that Dimitri’s entire demeanor seems to change; his shoulders seem less heavy, his eye seems brighter. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Duke Fraldarius?” Dimitri asks him, meeting Felix’s smile with one of his own. After so many years, it shouldn’t still make something twist in Felix’s stomach to see that expression, but he’s always been helpless to Dimitri in so many ways.

“We have to talk,” Felix says simply, cutting short the playful mood. Dimitri gestures to the chair across from his desk and nods his head ever so slightly to acknowledge the words, and Felix watches his composure slip back into something more kingly. He settles himself in the chair, legs and arms both crossed, deciding to spell it out plainly. “You need an heir, Dimitri.”

“Ah.”

They stare at each other for a moment, Felix’s chin tilted up ever so slightly as if he’s daring Dimitri to challenge the truth of his words.

“I had a feeling that you would bring this up,” Dimitri continues, letting out some sort of sigh; Felix can’t tell whether it’s exhausted or fond.

“With good reason,” he cuts in, affronted.

That’s definitely a weary expression on Dimitri’s features now, which makes Felix frown.

“I wish that you had a bit more faith in me, my beloved. I have actually given the matter some thought.” At the same moment that Felix feels abashed, he’s surprised. That must show on his face, because Dimitri continues, perhaps more patiently than Felix deserves right now. “It needed some research, after all. Since the… traditional method isn’t an option for us.”

Felix shifts in his seat, hopefully not enough to be noticeable. He’s relieved to hear those words from Dimitri, but has no desire to let his husband know that he’s fretted by himself over this very topic for hours upon hours.

He isn’t so fortunate.

Dimitri’s eye widens, and then suddenly he looks very guilty, which is completely unnecessary but also entirely expected.

“Felix… I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized that you doubted that. To me, it was a given. I cannot ask you to bear my child, and, frankly… I cannot think of something more unappealing than the idea of asking someone else to do so.”

For Dimitri, the idea of it feels very wrong. Whether he could even manage what was required of him in such a scenario is up for debate in itself, but even if he could… it makes his heart ache a little to consider having a biological child that doesn’t share Felix’s blood as well. Either their child has both of their bloodlines or neither, Dimitri thinks.

As such, he’d set off on his own private quest to find an alternative, enlisting the professor’s help as well as Yuri’s. Abyss is its own resource, what with its library of forbidden knowledge, and Dimitri has been willing to entertain any avenue.

“Good,” Felix says simply, his tone clipped. It’s not irritation, but rather some sort of embarrassment. There’s no point or need to hide how reassured he feels from Dimitri, but he does so anyway, instinctively. “... So is there another option?” He can’t imagine what it might be, but Felix suspects Dimitri would look far more upset if he was going to be the one to deliver the bad news for once.

“Well, yes, I believe so.” Dimitri moves back in his chair enough to pull out the top drawer of his desk, lifting a small container from it. Felix’s eyes narrow, suspicious and confused. “I sent Ashe to acquire it for us,” he continues, lifting the lid of it carefully. Felix has no idea what he anticipated being inside of it, truly, but a seed is probably one of the last things that would have crossed his mind.

“That’s a plant seed, Dimitri.” He isn’t particularly amused with the joke, nor the idea of Ashe knowing what Dimitri has been thinking and investigating before Felix himself did.

“I’m aware,” Dimitri says, smiling once again, for some reason, in this fondly amused way that makes Felix sort of want to smack him and kiss him all at once. It feels condescending at the moment, given Felix’s complete confusion. “It grows a human, though. A baby, to be specific. You see, Yuri found mention of it in a book in Abyss, which he then brought to the professor at my request, and they did their own research -- ah, I think Linhardt may have helped as well? -- to verify things.”

Felix is silently fuming, but also hurt. Why did half the continent seem to know that Dimitri was considering this and he didn’t? Instead of consulting with him and sharing his ideas, the possibilities, Dimitri had gone to so many of their friends.

It stings.

“That seems like nonsense,” Felix nearly snaps. “How could a seed produce an entire human being?

“With magic, of course. We have the magic to repair the body, to heal… is creation so far off? I understand your skepticism, my love, but I assure you--”

“You shouldn’t be able to assure me!” Felix cuts him off, too harsh, too heated, but it truly does hurt. “This is something we should have explored together, but instead even Linhardt knows, somehow!”

Dimitri goes very still, looks very sad. Felix regrets his tone, the volume of his voice, but not his words.

Dimitri stands up, crosses to the other side of the desk, kneels beside Felix’s chair as if he isn’t a king at all. “You’re right,” he says softly, and that alone does do plenty to mollify Felix, but he lets Dimitri carry on. “I should have told you sooner. I am sorry. I wanted… to wait until we were ready, but also to protect you. The idea of getting your hopes up about such a thing, if you would want…” He trails off, betraying his own insecurities, his own uncertainty about the idea of Felix wanting this with him.

It’s heartbreaking and infuriating all at once.

“Still a foolish boar,” Felix grumbles, but the heat in his words is gone, replaced with a more palatable warmth. He doesn’t often use this name now, but ever so often Dimitri does something that still warrants it in Felix’s eyes; charging ahead by himself, not leaning on the husband who would readily offer support. “We’re supposed to get our hopes up together. That’s what expecting a child is, Dimitri. And if you don’t tell me these things, how can I help when your hopes are crushed?” Finally, Felix unfolds his arms, reaching out to cup his husband’s cheek and stroke his skin gently with his thumb. “It’s a partnership, Dimitri. Marriage and parenthood both.”

Dimitri closes his eye and leans into Felix’s touch, another smile making its way onto his lips.

“You’re right,” he says once more.

Felix nods. “I know.”

Dimitri leans up to kiss him, then, and Felix feels his heart stutter at the gesture still. He doesn’t resist, stealing another kiss and cupping Dimitri’s face with both hands now. Sometimes he still marvels at the ability to do this, to indulge without the slightest bit of fear. He’d spent years thinking he’d lost Dimitri for good, both during their school days and later during the war. Each and every solid reminder that he receives of Dimitri’s presence is something Felix privately cherishes, and the reminders that Dimitri is his are truly gifts, even if he’d struggle to say so aloud.

Despite being the one to deepen it, to hold onto Dimitri more firmly, Felix is the one to pull away, too.

“Explain the seed,” he says, almost embarrassed by the tenderness between them.

The grin on Dimitri’s lips is undeniable, then, and too bright for Felix to keep looking at.

The royal greenhouse is commissioned not a week later.

Though neither of them are architects, Dedue and Ashe are deeply involved in the design, providing their input on how much sunlight the building should receive, what type of soil it should be built upon, and so much more. It goes over both Dimitri’s and Felix’s heads, which is only slightly worrying when their child is apparently to be a plant for the beginning of their life.

It’s quite simple, really, or so Byleth had said: the seed requires blood from both parents, and also their feelings; both of which would be imbued in it before it was buried. Felix had nearly gaped at them, hearing the second requirement.

(“I thought they were kidding,” Felix murmurs to Dimitri as the professor walks away, off to find Dedue.

“Er. I confess I wasn’t certain either,” Dimitri admits, just as quiet.)

The blood is easy enough, but their feelings… it’s such a vague ingredient that Felix isn’t sure what to make of it. The book they’re all referencing goes into slightly more detail, thank the Goddess, but it’s no less mortifying to read.

The seed is to be grown partially through magic, after all, so it only makes sense that faith is required. It’s that faith that they have to embed somehow, but the instructions aren’t clear as to the ‘how’. When he really thinks about it, Felix supposes it makes some sense -- children are born through what is, sometimes at least, a physical act that embodies love. Perhaps this seed needs that love to flourish, too.

There’s an idealism in that, though, that makes Felix feel all the more embarrassed, because plenty of children are born from decidedly not loving encounters. Why does magic have to mandate that he and Dimitri pledge their true love in front of a seed before they can have a child when others don’t have to jump through any hoop at all? There’s no real reason to object or complain, it’s not like he and Dimitri aren’t in love, but Felix still feels defensive about the idea of having to proclaim that and prove it to a seed, to some magic that he can’t see.

Felix doesn’t even particularly struggle when it comes to faith, which is a fact he keeps hidden as best he can, lest he be subjected to more teasing. It’s bad enough the professor knows, would subject him to choir rehearsals in school…

It’s rather late at night when Felix broaches the subject with Dimitri, pries for his husband’s thoughts. They’re both still awake, he can tell that much from how Dimitri’s breathing hasn’t evened out, just listening to the crackling of the fireplace in their chambers.

“So,” Felix says finally, breaking the stillness of the night. There are no crickets to chirp in Faerghus nights, only wolves howling and the telling evidence of a family of deer having run through the snowfields when they wake up in the morning. His voice feels very loud. “How are we to do this? Put our feelings into this seed, I mean.”

Dimitri shifts, which in turn makes the bed dip along with him, and Felix is not at all surprised to feel his husband’s arm wrap around him, pulling him close to his chest.

“Is that what’s keeping you awake?” Dimitri asks, making Felix grumble into the blankets and furs covering them. There’s warm amusement in Dimitri’s tone, which makes him sound downright unfair when his voice is already a rumble, low and sleepy in a way that makes Felix’s stomach flip.

“It’s a seed, Dimitri.” That exact phrase has come out of Felix’s mouth many times in the past week or so, sounding just as exasperated every time. “And feelings aren’t -- you can’t touch them! Blood is easy, but this?”

Dimitri’s lips skim the back of his shoulder; they’re curled into a smile.

“Sure you can.” His hand trails up Felix’s chest, his palm splayed out over Felix’s heart. Felix scowls. “Is that not what that ring is for?”

Dimitri can’t see Felix rolling his eyes because he isn’t facing him, but Felix most certainly rolls his eyes. “Then let’s just rub them against the seed and call it good.”

“We can try that,” his husband agrees with a chuckle. “More seriously, however… I have considered it myself. I would imagine we pray.”

Great.

“To the Goddess? For?”

Dimitri hums. “For her blessing, for her magic to grant us a child.”

Finally, Felix turns over to face Dimitri. He studies his king’s face intently, something he does nearly every day. He catalogues the wrinkles on Dimitri’s forehead, how deep the bags under his eyes are. Right now, he’s searching for something simpler, though usually more difficult to see -- doubt, nervousness, fear… all the things Dimitri keeps bottled up to try and deal with on his own.

“Do you know what you’ll say, then? How you’ll convince her?”

Dimitri looks at him for a long moment. He has some ideas, some ways that he’s tried to put words to the feelings that he experiences when looking at Felix. They’ve been reconciled for a long time now, quite happily in love for over half of that duration, and yet Dimitri has never quite been able to get rid of the feeling of longing. By all logic, Felix is his, perfectly within his grasp, and yet Dimitri still wants, still aches for him, even in a purely emotional sense, despite that.

That feeling seems key to convey, but Dimitri has yet to phrase it in a way that satisfies him, one that feels right. How should he communicate the desperate greed that is his love in such a way that the Goddess will gift them a child?

“No,” he admits quietly, finally. “Not quite.”

Felix huffs, wiggling to make himself comfortable, shuts his eyes again.

“Me neither.”

Dimitri kisses his brow before Felix burrows his face into Dimitri’s shoulder, something he only does when both sleepy and grumpy. The two moods overlap less often than one would think.

“It’ll come to you,” Dimitri assures him, his hand now running up and down Felix’s arm, soothing.

And it does.

Not until they’re within the greenhouse, standing over the plot meant for their seed to go into, though.

The plot is in the center of the building, buffered by a few other rows of plants on every side so that it isn’t so vulnerable. It can’t be seen through the glass walls directly, but the sun hits the location perfectly for most of the day, so despite being hidden from eye-level no matter what angle you approach it from, it’s in plain sight of the sky. It has its own little fencing around it, too, to prevent someone from accidentally trampling over anything.

They’re still debating whether or not to have guards protecting the greenhouse; Felix is for it, but Dimitri is wary of drawing even more attention to the area. The guards wouldn’t have to be informed of what they’re guarding, but even that’s not good enough for Dimitri’s comfort. Part of Felix wants to grumble, to ask what guards are even for if Dimitri is too paranoid to lean on them, but the more he thinks on it, the more he can accept the decision. Would he leave their child to be babysat by random knights? Absolutely not.

Would he entrust the child to Dedue, Ashe, and other friends of theirs? No doubt. He’d still huff over it, but not due to any real concern and lack of faith. They’ve been fortunate enough to have plenty of dear friends who are good with children around; he knows that Sylvain and Ingrid are planning on children of their own in a few years as well, once Ingrid’s position as a knight is more solidified, once she feels like she can take a break. Dimitri has always promised that her spot won’t be taken while she takes maternity leave, but Ingrid wants to earn that instead of being granted it because of friendship.

Dimitri wishes that she’d believe it’s because she already has, but there’s never been much point arguing with Ingrid.

So in the end, they’ve settled on leaving the majority of ‘guard duty’ to Dedue and Ashe since they frequent the greenhouse anyway, supplemented by Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette, and Mercedes whenever she visits.

Actually planting the seed brings a wave of anxiety that Felix hadn’t quite anticipated, though. He doesn’t mind spilling his blood onto it, which he does after Dimitri does so, but preparing to let go of it and give it up to the earth to nurture feels bizarre. The idea that this could truly succeed and give them a child really starts to sink in, as does the very opposite -- it could fail, it could leave them having to consider far more unpleasant possibilities.

It could make Dimitri sad.

What if it’s Felix’s fault?

If, somehow, his feelings aren’t delivered sincerely enough to the goddess?

It leaves him panicking somewhat as he holds the seed in his hand, watching blood stain its shell.

“Are you ready?” Dimitri asks softly, his voice quiet, intimate, and shaking ever so slightly.

It’s that unsteady note that helps Felix center himself, makes him able to give a firm nod.

Felix allows himself to be honest, at least in the privacy of his thoughts, and hopes that will be enough to appease the goddess. At the very core of things, it’s quite simple: I want to be with him, he thinks. I’ve spent my whole life wanting to be by his side. If he must do this, then let me do it with him. It’s not as if Felix is opposed to having children, but his tentative excitement is rooted in something far more childish and long-standing than any desire he has for offspring. It’s about wanting to make Dimitri happy, to support him, to be the one that makes Dimitri smile, to hold him. Being born a Fraldarius has meant that Felix has always belonged to Dimitri in some way, or rather, his sword has always belonged to the future king. Dimitri, though, is who Felix as an individual belongs to, who his heart belongs to.

He’s not willing to share.

So Felix wants to be the person who walks this path with him. Maybe, deep down, he even wants a child of their own for an even more selfish reason -- living, breathing proof of how much he and Dimitri do love each other, how much they’ve made it through.

There’s no reason for him to be jealous. Dimitri has never strayed, and the public approves of their relationship, but Felix finds himself defiant anyway. He doesn’t like to think of himself as a bragger, but when it comes to Dimitri, his immaturity comes to the surface and Felix feels the temptation to gloat. Dimitri chose him, out of everyone else in the kingdom, and in all of the lands beyond it, too. Sometimes he wants to show off, right in front of everyone who had ever tried to impede them.

(Neither of them are very much for overt displays of affection in public; Dimitri worries about propriety, so he keeps to quick, gentle touches, often at the small of Felix’s back. Felix usually squeezes his arm or shoulder. There have been a few, rare moments, though… and oh, how Felix had secretly wished that the obnoxious nobles arguing with Dimitri about taxes had walked into the conference room again and been too mortified by the sight to ever return to Fhirdiad.)

Though Dimitri’s motivation is ostensibly less selfish, there’s no lack of love in the feelings he hopes to imbue. They stem from a different place, though, one that’s more focused on gratitude, as well as fear. Fond of and good with children though he may be, his experiences with them have always been brief. It simply isn’t the same thing, playing with children in the market square in comparison to raising his own, day in and day out. It doesn’t sound like a burden to him, but Dimitri knows his own weaknesses. Stress still takes a toll on him, he still struggles to sleep sometimes, can still get a bit snappish, and though the voices are almost entirely gone, some days there are whispers that terrify him still.

The thought of taking any of that out on his child, of exposing them to it all, frightens him to his very bones.

Felix is a comfort, an anchor.

He’s blunt, to a degree that has indeed undeniably stung at times, but he’s watchful and honest about the state Dimitri is in. He’s realistic about what Dimitri can handle at any given moment, and takes care to badger him into resting or centering himself. Felix’s truths are often harshly delivered, or impatient and heated due to his own worries, but they’ve learned each other once more and Dimitri can sense the love behind what he says.

His faith in Felix and his judgment helps Dimitri have more faith in himself. It’s for that reason above all else that Dimitri can take this step forward. So please, he thinks, please allow us to have this. I know that I must have an heir, so allow me to have it like this, with the one who steadies me. I do not wish to break his heart again, I love him far too dearly to ask him to stand aside and have another produce my heir instead. I swear that I will love our child with all that I am, if we are just given the chance.

Dimitri insists on burying the seed together, both of their fingers touching it as it goes into the ground, for purely sentimental reasons. They spread the dirt over it themselves, too, and Dimitri reaches for the container of pegasus blessings provided by Ingrid’s very own mount for them to scatter over the plot as well.

“From your aunt,” Dimitri says softly to the ground as he tosses some out, smiling. Felix is torn between scoffing and smiling, too. It’s true that Ingrid is family in all but blood to them already, and at one point in Felix’s life, she was set to be family by law with him anyway.

It’s not only the pegasus’ blessing that they’re infusing into the soil, but some from their friends as well. It may be more symbolic, but it comforts Felix ever so slightly.

When they straighten up, Dimitri is beaming at him, and there’s a slightly more subdued but still matching expression on Felix’s features, too. They don’t have any idea how this will go, what sort of timeline a plant-made-human will follow, or how to care for it, really. A few instructions from an old book of magical items are all they have to go on, and yet, there’s something hopeful and excited brimming between them.

It’s Felix, this time, who steps closer towards his husband’s chest, reaching up to touch Dimitri’s cheek to guide him down into a kiss. He gets dirt on Dimitri’s skin, but there’s no complaint, just simply eyes fluttering shut and an exhale of amusement before their lips touch.

Dimitri takes to calling their seed ‘the baby’, which is nearly too much for Felix to handle for a multitude of reasons. It feels premature, embarrasses him some, and leaves him feeling incredibly impatient for when it actually is a baby. Dimitri sees nothing strange about referring to it that way, though, since it only follows how parents speak about their unborn children in the womb, too.

There’s nothing particularly interesting happening with the seed for quite some time, though. Certainly no visible progress. It doesn’t stop Felix or Dimitri from nagging Dedue and Ashe for their impressions of how it’s growing, despite both of them knowing that they’re being overbearing.

Dimitri spends his breaks between meetings with nobles and civilians alike in the greenhouse, fussing, sometimes quite literally leaning over Ashe’s shoulder. It’s not as easy to do so with Dedue, but it doesn’t mean Dimitri is silent by any means.

“You are still using Airmid water, correct?” he questions again, probably for the tenth time this week alone.

Dedue and his near-infinite patience, plus his affection for Dimitri, simply nods as he waters the plot, offering yet another reassurance. “Yes, Your Majesty. We have plenty, our stock is in no danger.” Dimitri nods back to him, seeming somewhat distracted already, and continues his pacing, eyes fixed on the plot of dirt. How could he do anything but stare, though, when his future child is under that soil?

Dedue takes quiet steps forward, places a steady hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, offering a smile. “It will grow fine. The season is right for new plants, I have no doubts.”

There’s an obvious impact on Dimitri from just that touch, with the way his whole posture seems to soften, to relax into a familiar gesture.

“I trust you,” Dimitri says in return, his voice serious, “wholeheartedly. I just -- cannot help but fret, still.” He frowns slightly, like he’s frustrated with himself for that, like it’s an insult to Dedue for him to still hold these worries.

“As is only natural of a parent,” Dedue responds, and then suddenly, he isn’t the only one smiling.

That evening, during a rare meeting that Felix is not attending alongside Dimitri, Felix finds himself in the greenhouse, too. He had waved off Ashe and insisted he take a break, insisted that he could stand guard for sometime and then lock up the greenhouse behind him.

Of course, he has his sword with him, so Felix feels more than prepared to tackle any would-be intruders. At this point, though, he has no idea who might actually break in. Are there really people who would steal plants? Perhaps so, but since there hasn’t been any public announcement of their intention to have a child, let alone through these means, Felix can’t imagine they’ll actually have any sort of trouble.

… It pays to be cautious, though, still.

For lack of a chair, Felix settles himself on the ground. It’s not uncomfortable for him, though, given how much more harsh the conditions were in the war. He’s unsheathed his sword and taken out a cloth, as well, to clean the blade. It doesn’t need polishing, strictly speaking, but it’s an activity that Felix finds somewhat therapeutic, since it’s easy for him to get lost in the motions.

Today it isn’t as successful, primarily because he keeps glancing at the dirt that he’s seated near. Frankly, despite everything, Felix is still somewhat skeptical. It’s only normal to be, isn’t it? Whoever had heard of a plant becoming a human child, after all?

“... I wonder when you’ll be able to hear me,” he says aloud, eventually. It feels foolish, but there’s no one around, and there’s so much on his mind lately. “Although I suppose that could be a myth overall, that babies can understand anything before they’re born. Should we be playing music?” He scoffs.

“No matter. We’ll make up for it once you’re born. Dimitri is so nervous that there’s no doubt he’ll try everything that supposedly benefits a child.” Secretly, it’s not like Felix is against that, either, but it’s much easier to pretend that he’s calm and collected about this. They’re sort of both behaving that way, really; Felix can sense Dimitri’s nervousness, notice it, but it’s more that Felix knows Dimitri’s tells rather than Dimitri being honest with him.

With the silence of the evening around him and nothing but his blade to keep him company, Felix falls prey to something much like sincerity himself. “Obviously there isn’t anything to worry about, though. You’ll be well cared for.” The phrasing strikes him as cold, though, and if he’s going to reassure his unborn (ungrown?) child, shouldn’t it be with a little more promise, warmth? “Loved,” Felix manages, embarrassed despite the privacy.

“He’s good at that,” Felix mumbles, staring down at the sword in his lap now, very nearly shy. “Making people feel loved. You’ll never have to doubt it. I’ll… work to make sure I do the same for you.”

He thinks back to his own family, then, the one that he was born with, rather than the one he’s about to create with Dimitri. For all he and his father disagreed, Felix had never exactly felt unloved. Perhaps he’d felt… neglected, somewhat, by his father’s adherence to Lambert’s memory, his commitment to treating Glenn’s death like something to be proud of despite how it had made Felix feel, but ultimately… He knew that his father loved him, very much so. He had tolerated a lot of harsh words from Felix, ones that he looks back on with a cringe, and they had still corresponded so frequently. His father was always asking after his friends, curious about his training and also his schoolwork, and every letter had still been signed with the word ‘love’.

Felix simply has to get a little better at verbalizing, but maybe he can be that sort of father, too. A steady presence, a tolerant and lenient parent who doesn’t punish his child for their feelings, who doesn’t make his child afraid to disagree with him. At the time of his teenage years, these were things that Felix had never quite appreciated until he had gotten a bit older, until he had learned more about the sorts of families that others had come from.

Thankfully, he knows that the home he and Dimitri are building is one that will be safe for their child. Whatever doubts Dimitri has, Felix is sure of their irrelevance.

---

It is not only Felix who enters the greenhouse and simply talks. He does so with less reservation than Felix does, really, far less concerned about looking embarrassing, despite his status as the king. He settles himself on the ground as well, being careful as to not sit upon his cape and dirty it -- the fur isn't a favorite thing of anyone's to wash. It would also look terribly unbecoming if he trailed dirt throughout the castle because of it.

"Hello." Dimitri says it once he glances at the patch of dirt, then finds himself smiling slightly, amused at his own actions, as if he truly could expect a reply. "I -- am your father, or will be... I'm not quite sure when that becomes official."

When the baby is born? When they put the seed in the ground to begin with? He feels like a father already, with how much worry is hanging over him, but that's only going to get more prominent and pointed when there's an actual toddler roaming around, depending on them for everything. The day that the child begins to crawl, let alone walk, Dimitri expects he might have an anxiety attack at the idea of all the trouble that they could get into.

"I feel that it's only right if I disclose some things to you... though you may not ever hear these words again, I suppose, when you can actually take them in..." Dimitri sighs, his hands folded in his lap, clenching and relaxing ever so often as he thinks. "I am not, by any means, as great of a man as you will no doubt be told...

I expect that many will say that you are fortunate to be born as my child, but I... feel that I have burdened you greatly already, and I am sorry for it. To be royalty is not easy -- though, no life that anyone lives is truly easy..." He's aware of all the ways that he had it better than others, of course, in how he never had to worry about food or shelter or clothing, but he also remembers hours of lessons and a great chasm of distance from his family.

"There are expectations," Dimitri says softly, his eye falling shut, a sigh making its way across his lips. "I will do my best to shelter you from them, and to make certain that you do not have to face any of them alone. My own mother died when I was just a baby, and my father was taken from me too soon. I was cared for, of course, but -- I often wonder if things would have been different, had they survived..."

It's perhaps silly, but Dimitri reaches out and places a hand atop the soil, drags his fingers through it gently, afraid to disturb any of the growth, but wanting the contact anyway. It makes things feel more real.

"Felix and I will not allow that to happen to you. He is... one of the best men I know, and one of the most talented fighters I have ever seen. No doubt he will protect you. From myself, if need be." His breath is more of a shudder than a sigh, then.

"I would never harm you, of course... but my crest means that there have been accidents. Humiliating ones, stories that I am certain you will hear over dinners with your aunts and uncles, but also more severe incidents..." He takes his hand away from the soil now, places it back in his lap. "Truth be told," he says, barely a whisper, "I am terrified to hold you. You will be so small in my arms, and when -- when I'm nervous, I have less control, so..."

It isn't likely, though, he and Felix both know that. It's something Dimitri is still anxious over, will be until that very moment has passed, but his strength hasn't truly been out of his control in many years. Here he has a very vested interest in maintaining that restraint, too, but there was a time that he simply didn't care. For anything, really, lost as he was, despairing to such depths. Having lost everything, his teacher, his best friend, his kingdom... What did it matter if he was destructive?

In hindsight, though, Dimitri finds that... place he was in frightening, finds the anger he held so scary to look back on. The ruthlessness with which he dealt with enemies, the bloodshed he truly hungered for... It's those parts of himself and his past that make him doubt his very right to sit here and await something as innocent and wonderful as a child.

"I won't hurt you," he finally whispers. "And I hope that you never fear me."

The greenhouse door opens, startling him into jerking his head upwards, but the figure at the door is familiar. Felix, hand on his hip, looking exasperated -- a common sight.

"It's dinner time, Dimitri. No doubt you've lost track of time, but the cooks haven't."

He's guilty of that, just as Felix says, so all Dimitri can do is offer a sheepish sort of smile as he gets to his feet. "It is as you say, my beloved, I was lost in my thoughts."

Felix snorts, inelegant and perfect. "And whoever benefits from that? No one. Come along."

It's easy and just what Dimitri wants to do anyway, going to Felix, linking their arms together. He presses a kiss to Felix's furrowed brow, feels that look of irritation deepen, and feels the knot in his chest loosen as he laughs.

"Good night," Dimitri says softly, fondly, to the plot behind them both. Felix stares at him, giving him some strange look that seems part besotted and part confused.

"We'll be back tomorrow," Felix says, and Dimitri can't discern whether it's a reminder to him or a promise to their unborn child. Either way, he smiles wider as they lock the door behind them.

----

Later that night, Felix crawls into bed last, dragging a brush through his hair after their bath, which Dimitri greedily soaks up the sight of. For his part, Dimitri actually feels quite relaxed, bare chested and under layers of covers that are warm enough as is, surely only going to get warmer with Felix's heat in addition to his own. This is, apparently, not reflected in his expression, or perhaps his posture -- something.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" Felix asks out of nowhere, direct and cutting straight to the heart of the matter just as Dimitri appreciates. "Of the child."

The way he puts it makes Dimitri laugh slightly, but it's not -- it's not wrong, still, so he doesn't even bother to deny it.

"Less of the child themselves and more of parenting them, but, yes. Of course. Are you not?"

He scoffs again, and Dimitri wonders, vaguely, if Felix knows how often he responds that way? Is it purely unconscious? Dimitri thinks he might start keeping a count, just for his own private amusement.

"Of course I am. But I don't trust your fear to be reasonable or fair to yourself."

And that's -- well, it's understandable, Dimitri supposes. Felix sets the brush aside onto their nightstand and sighs, clambering onto the bed, walking on his knees to get closer, making Dimitri grin at him.

Felix just scowls, takes Dimitri's face in both his hands, forcing eye contact.

"This child is going to be lucky to have you for a father," Felix says, his voice firm, sharp like he wants Dimitri to fight him on it, to try and challenge those words. Dimitri doesn't do so, just keeps his mouth shut, but his silence doesn't mean agreement, of course. Felix knows this, so his eyes narrow. "No matter what you think, they will be. And people will agree, but for all the wrong reasons."

That intrigues him, makes Dimitri hum in consideration, tilt his cheek into Felix's hold, nuzzling slightly. "Why do you think so, then?"

"Well, they certainly aren't going to be bound to tradition, since you're already breaking so much of it yourself." Dimitri has to chuckle at that, low and warm, his eye sliding shut, shifting his face so that his lips brush Felix's palm.

There's a little hitch of breath from Felix, and then Dimitri's cheek gets pinched with Felix's other hand.

"Stop that," he snaps, but it sounds affectionate. Dimitri grins against his skin. "I'm talking, you boar, don't get distracted."

"I'm listening," Dimitri answers him, his tone undeniably playful.

"I'm sure." Even with his eye closed, Dimitri can practically sense Felix rolling his eyes. "I'm trying to comfort you, you ought to pay attention."

That makes Dimitri regain some seriousness, moving to kiss Felix's lips once, briefly. "You already have. Your confidence in me... Felix, I doubt you understand the true extent of how that steadies me. I trust you, you have always been fair and seen me for what I am, and I know that you would not... simply go along with this. I know that you trust me with this undertaking, and that is enough to beat back plenty of my fears."

Felix is quiet for a long moment, seemingly turning that over in his head, but then all of a sudden he surges forward and kisses Dimitri again. It lasts this time, Dimitri parting his lips readily, Felix's tongue darting inside right away. Despite the rushed start, it's languid, Felix's hands ending up on Dimitri's shoulders, clutching at him. They kiss until Felix is pink in the cheeks, his breathing not quite steady when they pull apart.

"I thought I was supposed to be listening," Dimitri teases lightly, smiling, savoring the way that Felix's sharp features look in the low candlelight.

"Shut up," his husband snaps again, lacking in any real heat. "You are. Especially because you have something wrong." Felix looks serious, but not angry, just... sober, like something heavy is weighing on him. "I didn't. I didn't always see you for who you were. I misjudged you, you and I both know it. Hold me accountable for that."

For as much as Felix chides Dimitri about not forgiving himself, Dimitri finds Felix awfully guilty of the same behavior. They're both individuals who are hard on themselves, who hold themselves to standards that are sometimes unreasonable -- perhaps that's why forgiveness and understanding from Felix has always felt so good to Dimitri, so valuable.

"It's in the past, we were younger, we were both hurting... But you weren't entirely wrong, Felix, you know how I feel about my past actions..."

Felix shoves at his chest, which could never really move Dimitri if he didn't want to be moved, until Dimitri is flat on his back again and Felix is crawling over him.

"Use your mouth for something better," Felix grumbles at him, stealing another kiss. They'll never quite agree on how much culpability to still hold onto, how much they should still feel guilt, so it's better not to argue. It never goes anywhere anyway. Dimitri is much happier with this suggestion, eager to plant his hands on Felix's hips and let them slide up his sides, under his shirt.

"As you say, my love," Dimitri murmurs against his lips, sneaking words between kisses. He loses track of when Felix blows out the candle, leaving them in only comfortable darkness and warm, tangled sheets.

There are more preparations necessary, which Dimitri sets to addressing with renewed energy, seemingly from Felix’s encouragement. Privately, Felix feels satisfied to see that. There’s a great deal of gifts that their child is expected to receive, from their friends, from the citizenry, and from representatives elsewhere. Dimitri is still making his own list of items they’ll need despite that, wanting to make sure that they’re prepared ahead of time instead of waiting on offerings from others.

A letter to Mercedes is penned, requesting stuffed toys, or perhaps patterns for them that she could enclose for Dimitri to try his own hand at creating some. Faerghus tradition has always placed cold steel in a child’s hands quite young, but Dimitri wants their baby to have softer comforts, too, unlike how he and Felix were raised. More blankets, too, he decides, scribbling that into the note as almost an afterthought before he signs his name, leaves his affection.

He makes a public announcement as well, essentially to commission the public for their assistance. Messengers are sent to other areas of Faerghus to invite their woodworkers and seamstresses to provide a crib, clothing, and more, for the royal baby, for which they’ll be compensated for their time in both gold and warm appreciation.

Later, Felix points out how this is going to leave them with an excess of such things. The clothing and blankets, perhaps, are fine with that, but how many cribs will they need?

Dimitri smiles sheepishly, first, but recovers. “If our child ends up manifesting one of our crests, but particularly mine, having these may be more of a blessing than you thought, Felix.”

Begrudgingly, he has to concede this. It’s far too easy to imagine a Blaiddyd baby cracking the wooden bars of a crib, and it’s not untrue that his own crest had given him some trouble as a child once or twice…

Of course, Dimitri refuses to leave everything to the servants in the castle, wanting to take an active role in outfitting the chambers nearest he and Felix’s for the baby. It takes Felix far longer than it should to pull Dimitri away from the room and remind him of other duties to prevent him from taking part in cleaning it. The decorating he’ll allow, but there’s no need for this much.

Dimitri ends up seated at his desk, reading over papers, having to consider various proposals, but it’s clear he’s distracted. He hums, thoughtful, and certainly grants his signature to a few things, but looks up and smiles at Felix ever so often with other ideas.

“We ought to have new drapes in their room, don’t you think?”
“A book shelf, of course… Ingrid and Ashe can contribute some of their favorite tales.”
“... Do you think it would be appreciated, if we were to put some greenery in the room? Would it feel familiar? I wonder…”

Finally, Felix reaches out and puts his hand over Dimitri’s, stealing his attention.

“Hm?”

Felix sighs.

“I can’t believe that you’re making me tell you, for once, to actually do your work. You can tell me all these ideas later.”

It makes Dimitri fluster, the apples of his cheeks dusted with pink, and his gaze drops.

“Yes, normally you have to pull me away… I’ll endeavor to focus.”

Of course, Felix doesn’t enjoy that sort of abashed expression on Dimitri’s features. He never actually enjoys having to say such things, but in Felix’s view, they are husbands second; king and advisor first.

“I want to hear it all,” he says firmly, fighting past his own embarrassment to admit to that much. He’d happily listen to Dimitri spout these ideas for hours, letting himself curl up in Dimitri’s hold, but Felix never indulges so thoroughly. “But later,” Felix finishes, “when there’s no need to interrupt.”

Dimitri lifts his husband’s hand, presses his lips to the back of it, and gives Felix a nod.

Felix wears his gloves the rest of the day, that part of his skin still tingling from Dimitri’s lips. He savors it, all the way until it’s time for bed, until Dimitri’s hands and lips are elsewhere, everywhere, and every sensation is just a delightful blur.

Later, warm and sated, his hair loose and fanned out over a pillow, Felix brings them back to the topic.

“Tell me your ideas now,” he murmurs, eyes closed, an arm over Dimitri’s torso. “But I’ll have you know, I refuse to allow our child’s first bedtime story to be about Kyphon and Loog’s adventures. No need to indoctrinate them that early.”
“If you had your way entirely, my love, they would never hear the story at all.”

Felix snorts.

“What’s so wrong with that?”

There are lips on his forehead, then, and fingers in his hair, blankets pulled up higher, and a quiet chuckle that Felix can feel underneath his ear.

“Nothing, I suppose. You’re right that we don’t want them to linger on history…”

When Dimitri thinks about it anyway, there won’t be an easy way for the story of Kyphon and Loog to be followed anymore. He and Felix are about to mix their bloodlines together, which means that their child won’t have a Fraldarius shield at their side, because they’ll be that shield themselves. It’s a strange thought, and while Dimitri knows that by traditional mandates, it’s his line that has to continue, it gives him an odd pang of sadness to think of only his family’s name being carried on.

Whether Felix is the type to care about such a thing, Dimitri honestly doesn’t know. He’s not exactly the sort to flaunt his family name, but he’s never quite shirked it, either, only criticized blind obedience and judgment based off of a name itself.

It’s late, and they’ve both tired themselves out some, so Dimitri will table the idea of discussing it for now. The thought nags at him, though, as he lays there and listens to Felix’s breathing even out. He presses another kiss to Felix’s temple, whispers his affection, and settles himself down to rest, too.

Dimitri wakes early, perhaps not having had sufficient rest, but determined nonetheless to sneak in some time for his own personal research before he attends to his kingly duties. Frankly, he doesn’t much care whether his advisors and the like approve of his idea, but if there’s a historical precedent for it, it’d be much easier to argue against any complaints.

He spends an hour or so in the library, pouring through old records, and finds only two instances that he can use to plead his case. They’re both children who were not the first heir, but Dimitri will take it nonetheless.

Why shouldn’t they be able to honestly state that their child is a Blaiddyd and a Fraldarius both? Most everyone already has three names, why not a fourth?

He runs into his husband at lunch, and as expected, Felix looks a bit grumpy when Dimitri enters his office for once. With a sheepish smile, Dimitri shuts the door behind him, but doesn’t sit. “Could I convince you to join me for lunch?”

Felix stands up and scoffs, but offers his arm for Dimitri to take and loop with his own nonetheless. Over the years Felix has gotten more comfortable with public displays of their relationship, something Dimitri very pointedly doesn’t address just in case it would fluster him and make the behavior change. “Is this your apology for being gone in the morning?”

Dimitri links arms with him and smiles softly, his eyes crinkling. “Indeed it is. I had an important topic to look into, though.” He opens the door to Felix’s study with his free hand, leads them out into the hall, off towards the more private dining room for the royal family.

“And what would that be?” Felix glances to the side at him, looking somewhat suspicious and skeptical both at once.

“Well,” Dimitri begins, nervous now that the idea will actually be broached. The corridor is very much empty save for themselves, so it’s not a matter of privacy, entirely, but… “It’s about our child’s name.” Felix’s footsteps falter, just for a second, before he gives a sharp nod. It’s an obvious sign to continue. “Well,” he says again, hedging, “I am uncertain how much it matters to you, but it seemed to me… that it would hardly be fair for the child to only be a Blaiddyd. Luckily, there is historical precedence for the children of royals to receive hyphenated names, so if we so wished, naming them as a Blaiddyd-Fraldarius wouldn’t be unheard of.”

Felix pauses altogether then, his expression difficult for Dimitri to parse, despite how well they know each other. Felix’s brow is furrowed like he’s troubled, or perhaps just considering it.

“I don’t particularly care for that sort of thing,” Felix settles on finally, but he’s speaking slowly, so Dimitri only waits for him to continue. “But it seems like the sort of thing that my old man would have been touched by.” It’s quite a sentimental agreement, especially from Felix, and it makes Dimitri feel warm. It feels like he’s done something right, something meaningful for Felix.

Perhaps it’ll be meaningful for all of Faerghus, and even beyond.

“It feels right to me,” Dimitri admits, excitement creeping into his tone, and no doubt his expression. “To think that after so many years, the longstanding ties of our families would result in this… It’s -- poetic, really.”

Felix rolls his eyes, tugs on Dimitri’s arm, directing them back to their quest for nourishment.

“You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Ingrid and Ashe, with their fantastical tales,” he grumbles, but being compared to two of Felix’s other favorite people is no insult, so Dimitri only chuckles.

“They could be onto something, though.”

Names.

The idea lingers on Dimitri’s mind, after having gained Felix’s approval for their child’s family name. There are at least two more parts of it still to go, though. The first name… should wait a bit longer, he thinks. Until closer to their child’s… sprouting? Unfortunately, they can hardly tell any identifying details from the plant that’s sprung up through the dirt, but Dimitri has marveled at it all the same.

Tonight Dimitri is thinking about a middle name, though. He and Felix were both given theirs from a relative long since passed away, men they never met, men they hardly even know the character of. That strikes him as too impersonal. He wants their child to have something meaningful; not quite a legacy, but a connection.

Felix is readying himself for bed, his back to Dimitri, already under the covers, as he brushes out his hair.

“What about Glenn?” Dimitri muses aloud, and Felix whips around so quickly that it nearly startles him. His eyes narrow slightly, not with anger but more like concern.

“What about Glenn?”

“Ah, my apologies… I spoke my thoughts aloud without any context for you. I was pondering our child’s middle name. I was wondering if… Glenn’s name would be fitting, as a tribute to him, a man who was important to us both.”

Felix sets down his brush, though Dimitri isn’t sure whether he was actually finished with it or he’s simply distracted by this conversation now. He doesn’t ask.

He’s quiet for a long moment, brows knitted together as he seems to consider it. Glenn was his brother, after all, no matter how much Dimitri also loved him, so it’s a decision in Felix’s hands, ultimately. Felix bites his lip, chews on it for a beat before finally opening his mouth to speak.

“... What if it’s a girl?”

It isn’t the objection (if it can even be called that) that Dimitri was expecting. His eye widens, not having considered that at all. Dimitri had focused entirely on choosing an important person in their lives, not on any other factor.

“Does it matter?” he asks.

“Not to me,” Felix nearly snaps in reply, as if offended by the notion. “But traditionally -- you know this, Dimitri. People care so much for what’s ‘suitable’, what’s too feminine or too masculine.”

“We are not ‘people’,” Dimitri reminds him gently, lovingly, and offers out his hand for Felix to take.

He does so, settles himself on the edge of the bed, but heaves a great sigh instead of making himself comfortable.

“Since you became king, it’s felt like you’ve stopped caring about what others think. Normally, I would have expected to be thrilled about that, but it’s not -- it’s not that simple, Dimitri. This child -- our child -- is likely to become the next ruler of Faerghus and Fódlan. The scrutiny they’ll receive…”

All at once, Dimitri realizes that Felix has been terribly afraid, too. He’s just much better at hiding it, far more subtle. Felix hardly cares at all for what people think of him, he does what he feels is right with a dogged persistence and very little concern for how it looks to others. He does, however, care deeply about how others view Dimitri. He frets far more than Dimitri himself does. First and foremost he worries about the public opinion, because Felix loves the people of their lands and feels responsible for them to the same extent that Dimitri does, but then he lets himself be weighed down by the opinions of the other nobles, the other advisors…

Dimitri has known, since he was quite young, that you can hardly please all of those people. What matters to him, then, is the overall health and happiness of his subjects, and now, his closest companions. No matter what decision he makes, one noble family will object and cite something about their land taxes, or an advisor will step in and urge him to reconsider how much of the country’s income he’ll be imposing on if he raises wages. In light of that, he can only hear them all out and then follow his heart -- just as Rodrigue had encouraged him to do. Just as his father had done, as well.

He reaches out, places his hand on Felix’s shoulder, painfully aware of how his husband has crossed his arms over his chest, agitated, withdrawing.

“It is an unfortunate reality that our child will be subject to that scrutiny no matter what, Felix. Would that I could make it different…”

He must sound melancholy, or too self-deprecating, because Felix’s hand comes up to clutch at his -- tightly. Angrily, really.

“Stop that. It is what it is. You need an heir. I’m only -- trying to say we should consider what we can do to lessen what they’ll go through. We’re already bucking against so many standards, Dimitri. You and I can handle that, but…”

Felix likely remembers quite well what it’s like to be a child who isn’t entirely suited for the norm. While he had loved swords even as a kid, he was also so very gentle, soft in a way that children of Faerghus are not supposed to be. He shed so many tears, hid behind his mother’s skirts and then Dimitri’s back, cowered at Ingrid’s pegasus, whined to Sylvain when he was teased by his brother… His fragile, full heart had been chipped away at slowly, Dimitri can see that now. By the time that Glenn was killed and Dimitri dealt with his own subsequent agony, Felix was already nearly brokenhearted.

Of course he would want to prevent his child from dealing with any similar struggles, to shelter them from the cruelty that others are capable of. A dark part of Dimitri’s mind still nags at him, telling him that if Felix wants to truly protect their child, he shouldn’t allow Dimitri near either of them at all.

Felix would never allow that, though, because that simply isn’t how he sees Dimitri now. On good days, perhaps even most days, it’s not how Dimitri truly sees himself either, but the fear is still there.

“The least worrisome thing that our child could be criticized over would be their name, Felix.” That won’t be an answer that sits right with Felix, though, he knows that. He isn’t done. “I do not wish for our child to suffer scorn, either, but… They will be our child, Felix. Not Faerghus’. Not Fódlan’s. Others can have their opinions, but I will not bend to their closed-minded views. That isn’t how we create this new era of peace or foster the better relations with other countries that we are hoping for. It is time for change. Change is overdue, in fact.

So let it begin with us,” Dimitri urges him, quietly. “It is our turn to decide what this world will look like, what traditions will last, what conceptions should continue. Is this one we care to uphold?”

With that, Felix snorts. He slumps to the side, though, just enough to lean against Dimitri for support. He is a welcome warmth and weight against Dimitri, always.

“Absolutely not,” Felix says, finally, with a firm note of decision in his voice.

“‘Glenn’ it is, then,” Dimitri replies, nodding, a smile creeping onto his expression.

Felix shrugs off the hand on his shoulder so that he can crawl into bed unimpeded, gets under the blankets and ends up outright smirking at Dimitri. “If it’s a girl,” he agrees. Then he’s quiet again, the smugness gone, replaced by something thoughtful and nervous. “If it’s a boy… El?”

Seeing Felix regain his defiance gladdens Dimitri, but it’s no sooner than he manages to feel that joy that Felix robs him of feeling anything at all. To hear his suggestion robs Dimitri of his breath, wipes his mind of all thought -- El. To honor her, too, is something that Dimitri hadn’t yet considered. She was his sister, though, and a love that he had thought he lost for most of his life. The grief he feels even now, quietly, distantly, at the loss of her is impossible to articulate.

It means very much to him that Felix brings up the possibility. It’s no surprise that he does, that he wants Dimitri’s sibling to be represented as well, given what he knows of how Dimitri cared for her. The choice of El, though, must be deliberate. It is not exactly ‘Edelgard’ that they’ll be honoring, but rather the girl she used to be, when both she and Dimitri were more innocent.

His throat tight with emotion, Dimitri nods. “I would like that.”

He turns towards Felix, who is already opening his arms for him, making room for Dimitri to hold onto him. His head gets tucked into the crook of Felix’s neck, Felix’s arms around his back, his chin resting atop Dimitri’s head.

“I thought you might.” It’s soft and knowing, one of the sweetest tones Dimitri ever hears from Felix, and he savors the moment as they cling to each other, both of their hearts no doubt aching. If only Glenn were here, if only El were here, what a splendid uncle and aunt they may have made. They are both grieving the loss of that chance, every milestone that every member of their families has missed; first their wedding, now their child’s birth.

It’s lonely, even in each other’s hold. Perhaps another night they’ll have the strength to speculate, to wonder if Edelgard might have given their child a dagger as a present, just as Dimitri had her. To wonder if Glenn would have been the one teaching their child swear words, secret ways to sneak out of the castle.

Tonight they are quiet. Tonight, Dimitri falls asleep first, his head pillowed on Felix’s arm and chest. Felix resigns himself to waking up with tingles in that arm, but doesn’t mind very much. It may very well be his turn, though, to extricate himself from their sheets early and spend some time in the library.

Felix does not manage to escape to the library that very morning, waylaid by a reluctance to wake Dimitri when he’s sleeping soundly and a painful amount of affection for the way he looks so peaceful in the early hours, with the sun shining into their room. It’s hardly Felix’s fault that he has to kiss Dimitri good morning several times, nor is it his fault that it’s a particularly chilly morning despite the warmer seasons. It’s only natural that they would huddle under the blankets for as long as possible.

He isn’t deterred the following days, though, and sets to his task with determination. What he’s looking for in particular, Felix isn’t quite sure. He has records books, some documents on Faerghus history, even a few compilations of myths and legends to skim through. These are a secret, of course, and kept away from the prying eyes of those who would be overly enthusiastic. He spends hours in his office pouring over them, frowning, trying to find something that strikes him.

A week or so later, he has a list. It’s a small one, but he’s satisfied with every name on it.

Felix feels as if he’s been in a stupor, practically, with his nose in more volumes than he can count for days on end. When he finally allows himself a bit of fresh air, he almost trips on his own feet, unsure if he’s seeing things, at the sight of Mercedes outside the castle.

“Felix!” she calls to him cheerfully, waving, picking up her skirts enough to rush forward.

He’d forgotten she was to be visiting soon. It feels disorienting to think that time has gone by so quickly.

“Mercedes,” Felix begins, trying to get his bearings. “Did you just arrive?”

She laughs, probably able to see right through his fluster. “Oh, no. I’ve already spoken with Dimitri. I was looking for you, actually! It’s so nice of you to find me first and save me the trouble.”

It obviously wasn’t on purpose, but neither of them care about that part. She’s just teasing him like always.

“Where’s Dimitri?” he ends up asking, then actually going a bit pink in the cheeks when he thinks about how single-minded he’s acting.

Mercedes takes him by the arm (why is that always happening to him? He’s perfectly capable of walking by himself, do people not trust him to follow along?) and starts to march them back inside, much to Felix’s dismay. “He’s busy right now, apparently accepting the deliveries of the royal cribs? My, there were more than I expected…”

Felix’s sigh is almost comically heavy.

“That’s because that boar commissioned every artisan in the country, just in case the child has a crest…”

Mercedes giggles at it, and Felix honestly can’t blame her. He’d want to laugh, too, if it wasn’t his husband and their castle that he was dealing with.

“Well, in any case, while he’s occupied, you’ll have some tea with me, won’t you, Felix?”

Felix considers himself quite strong, but not nearly so strong as to refuse Mercedes’ invitation. Not when she’s here to help consult with them about what to do with a newborn, especially.

That’s how they end up in Dimitri’s sitting room with some tiny pastries that Felix doesn’t even know the name of, Mercedes chatting happily about how things are going at her orphanage and the children there. Felix is half-listening, if he’s honest, because the more she goes on about children, the more he thinks about his own. He sips his tea and makes the appropriate hums and sounds of agreement, even genuinely catches himself smiling at a few anecdotes, but she gives up on him sooner rather than later.

“I can see your mind is elsewhere, Felix. I imagine it’s with you and Dimitri’s baby, isn’t it? Shall we get started on that topic, then?”

“I thought we were waiting for Dimitri,” Felix sort of splutters. He’s not at all prepared to be the one to tackle this subject. Dimitri is so much more composed about it than he is, Felix still gets foolishly embarrassed.

“But -- he needs to hear all this, too.”

“I just thought, since you were so excited…” She trails off, an obvious teasing lilt to her tone, and Felix feels a little like putting his head down on the table and groaning. “If you insist, though, we’ll wait. Why don’t you tell me more about what you two have been up to? How Fhirdiad is? Have you seen Annette, lately?”

He takes his cue to actually talk, scrounges up the details of recent happenings and makes sure to recount, in detail, exactly how excited Annette is for the baby. Really, all of their friends are likely to receive the title of aunt or uncle, but Annette is particularly fierce about wanting a place in he and Dimitri’s child’s life. As if she wouldn’t, when she and Dimitri have expressed how much like siblings they feel, only in addition to how close she is with Felix. There was no question.

But still, she had beamed when he assured her, and Mercedes does the very same at how the fondness he holds for Annette leaks into his voice.

Felix resolutely pretends not to notice.

Sadly, Mercedes isn’t able to stay until the… birth, but she does offer them plenty of advice and well wishes before she departs. Felix had returned her hug awkwardly, but Dimitri had held onto her tightly, thanked her so fervently for coming and giving suggestions that Felix swears she actually looked a bit flustered, subject to so much appreciation. Only a sign that she needs more of it, no doubt.

Eventually they settle on trying water, rather than mother’s milk. A wet nurse could certainly be summoned if need be, but there’s a significant likelihood that given the nature of how the baby was grown, traditional sustenance may not do the trick.

Truthfully, both Dimitri and Felix would prefer that route. Dimitri feels a bit guilty at the thought of having someone else take the time to nurse their own child, and something in Felix bristles at the notion, too. He’s a bit overprotective, perhaps, but isn’t it reasonable? Feeding a child is part of bonding and whatnot, isn’t it? Selfishly, Felix wants that for him and Dimitri alone.

They’ll do what they have to, that much is obvious, but that doesn’t mean either of them will be that pleased about it.

According to Dedue, their child has grown quite a bit. The plant has gotten much larger, with wide leaves that droop towards the ground. There’s no precise way to tell, really, but to his experienced eyes, it seems like something sprouting would make sense, given the size.

That’s how Dimitri ends up spending all of his free time practically camping out in the greenhouse. He even takes his paperwork in there now, sitting on an upturned bucket, happily chatting with Dedue.

“My dear friend,” Dimitri calls to him, lifting a few sheets of paper with a smile, “could I ask for your thoughts?”

“Of course, Dimitri.” The atmosphere is so warm, and it has nothing to do with the sun shining down through the glass roof.

Ingrid comes by with more pegasus blessings, sometimes drags Dimitri to dinner and describes, in detail, the flavor of everything that Dimitri still can’t quite taste. Her enthusiasm helps him appreciate the kitchen staff more, to be certain. She returns to her guardpost after stopping by to check in on Felix. She teases him, too, about whether or not he’ll cry when he and Dimitri’s child is born.

(In return, Felix teases her about whether she’s lonely, missing Sylvain while he’s in Gautier territory, and Ingrid marches off with red cheeks. Felix crosses his arms and soaks up the satisfaction of a verbal spar won handedly.)

It’s good, having their friends involved. It helps. Felix sometimes lingers in the greenhouse, too, chats with Ashe and listens to him enthuse. He gets a kick out of watching Ashe still attempt to call Dimitri simply by his name, no titles, and seeing him flush at the way Dimitri lights up when he does so.
Somehow, despite how often they’ve drawn a small crowd of their group to the greenhouse, they manage to be the only ones present when there’s a shifting sound, something like --

-- dirt, moving, and of course this would happen the very moment they look away. Felix is the one who whirls around faster, not even considering the idea that it could be the plant, their plant, their child, but rather some sort of attack, no matter how implausible that sounds.

When he turns, though, there’s a small head poking out of the dirt.

Felix actually jolts back, grabbing Dimitri by the arm, squeezing tightly, surely enough so that it hurts. Dimitri stiffens immediately, alarmed, and Felix would apologize for frightening his husband, probably dredging up old anxieties, if he had the presence of mind to say anything at all.

Felix blinks.

The human-looking creature (the baby, his mind hisses) blinks back at him.

Dimitri turns, voice low and severe when he asks what’s wrong, but he trails off immediately as soon as he catches sight of what has Felix’s attention.

Dimitri inhales so sharp and quickly that it’s a wonder he doesn’t choke on the breath he takes. Felix has only ever heard him that pleasantly surprised once before, when they’d confessed their feelings to each other.

At a distance, Felix can tell the child has darker hair. Like his own, if he’s honest. That thought is overwhelming, makes him swallow hard. Their eyes are blue, similar to Dimitri’s, but darker.

While lost in his thoughts, frozen in place like this, the child decides to open up their mouth and let out the first of what’s sure to be many wails.

Felix flinches.

Dimitri, though, with laudable instincts, rushes forward and gets to his knees, reaches out without thinking at all--

And that’s when he falters, as if afraid. That’s what snaps Felix back to reality, makes him march right over, too, and scowl right in Dimitri’s face. He probably shouldn’t be making such an ugly expression in such a joyous moment, but it’s just so frustrating to watch Dimitri worry.

“It just pushed its way out of the ground, Dimitri, I think it can handle your touch.”

Dimitri doesn’t fight it, only reaches out and digs into the soil with his bare hands, revealing more and more of the child’s body as he does. Once the torso is visible, Dimitri very gently, carefully, pulls the child free of the ground, cradling them in his arms like Mercedes had shown him.

Very quietly, with no small amount of awe, he corrects Felix: “she. We -- we have a baby girl, Felix.”

There are tears in Dimitri’s eyes already, his voice sounding choked by the end of that sentence. Felix is blinking quickly, fighting the sting in his own eyes, even though there’s no reason to. When he moves closer, he can take in her face in more detail. Her eyes are a darker blue, with flecks of something like amber in them, which Felix vaguely considers may be from his own. It’s probably too early to tell much, but Felix feels like she looks more like Dimitri, and is glad for it. It’ll make it easier to deal with any potential disputes that the other nobles have about her parentage.

A few seconds later, he wants to kick himself for even considering them all in a moment like this. He’s a worrier by nature, something he normally keeps under wraps, but now, with their child -- their daughter -- so very real and in Dimitri’s arms, Felix is similarly terrified of everything that could go wrong. All of the anxiety that Dimitri had spent months stewing in sort of hits Felix right now in the moment. Of course he’s had his concerns, but now he’s downright terrified.

This little thing is about to rely on him for everything. Maybe Dimitri had the right of it, being so scared.

“Felix?” he calls softly, shaking him from his thoughts. “Did you decide on a name for her?”

Felix has to clear his throat before he can speak, trying to get rid of the lump that’s developed in it. “Brenna.”

Dimitri looks at his husband with an incredibly fond expression, the very picture of besotted. Felix’s cheeks heat up immediately.

“I like it. Very much. Does it mean something?”

Felix’s jaw clenches.

“Yes,” he admits through gritted teeth.

Dimitri’s lips quirk upwards into a smile, his fingers gently trailing over their daughter’s cheek, sometimes her hair, trying to soothe her. “Are you going to share?”

He exhales in a huff, not inclined to do so, but feeling obligated to. It’s not as if he can keep something a secret from Dimitri when it concerns their daughter, let alone her name. He’s well aware, though, of what reaction he’ll get.

“... It means sword.”

To Dimitri’s credit, he only snorts, inelegant, but honest. He’s smiling, too, so Felix only blushes deeper. It’d be easier if Dimitri seemed annoyed by it instead.

“I see,” he says, voice warm. “I’ll leave it up to you whether we reveal that to our curious friends or not, then.”

“Not,” Felix responds quickly, and the way his eyes narrow means that the conversation is very much finished. He reaches out himself then, feeling for himself the rumored softness of a baby’s hair. It’s true enough for him, at least, and Felix finds his vision watery.

She looks happier now, less distressed. Perhaps she knows their touch somehow. Perhaps, despite how foolish it had felt to try and pour so much emotion into a seed, it truly transferred through to her.

“Brenna Glenn Blaiddyd-Fraldarius, then,” Dimitri murmurs, a few tears spilling over and slipping down his cheek. “Welcome, little one.”

Felix brushes off their daughter’s head to be sure there’s no remaining dirt, hears Dimitri’s chuckle before he leans down to kiss her on the forehead. He kisses Felix’s, too, and Felix gives them both the moment of privacy to simply soak this up before having to share it with the rest of the world.

The first crown princess of Faerghus, Brenna Glenn Blaiddyd-Fraldarius, is born on the 20th day of the Verdant Rain Moon.

The first and most critical order of business is finding out how to nourish their daughter. That comes before even the announcement to the public, with a sort of urgency that the castle hasn’t felt in quite some time.

The answer turns out to be laughably simple: the princess eagerly accepts water and chugs it down.

Dimitri’s laugh is somewhat hysteric, but undeniably relieved. Felix just feels like putting his face in his hands at that. Simply because she was created from a plant, they’re supposed to feed her the same way? It hardly makes sense, but magic rarely does, and neither of the royal couple is inclined to question how easy things become this way. There’s no need to search for a trusted wet nurse to employ now, no need to share these precious moments feeding her with anyone else. Felix is, strangely, grateful to his daughter for that.

She’s bathed soon after she’s fed, both Dimitri and Felix insisting on doing it all for themselves. It’s not a lack of trust (on Dimitri’s side of things, at least), but rather just an investment in the experience. Though Felix’s anticipation of all this had been quieter, perhaps not as keenly felt, having his daughter in his arms is something he becomes attached to immediately.

Brenna is so small, blinking up at him with wide eyes, taking in the world, and Felix’s heart aches with the trust that she gives them so readily.

They’re so cautious when getting her cleaned off. Dimitri leaves most of it to Felix, as if still skittish about touching her. Felix knows that he’s likely worried he’ll rub too hard when attempting to get some dirt off and end up hurting her, so he takes it in stride.

Her very first outfit is one handmade by Mercedes, with little socks to keep her feet covered that Dimitri himself worked on alongside Dedue. As a result, she’s a bit mismatched, and one sock is clearly less skillfully made than the other, but Brenna certainly isn’t going to complain.

The way Dimitri beams down at her and keeps lifting her small, sock-clad feet with wonder is enough for Felix to approve how she’s dressed anyway.

It’s daylight still, so there’s no need to wait to announce the princess to their people beyond sentimentality, wanting time with her alone. The sooner they get it out of the way, though, the sooner she can be safely tucked behind closed doors and with her parents.

Dimitri calls for the people of Fhirdiad’s attention, having the knights go out to inform them that His Majesty has something to share with them, while he and Felix finish getting ready. It’s Dimitri whose appearance truly matters, but Felix still makes sure that he looks presentable as well. They only really get one moment for this, after all, to introduce their citizens to their daughter.

Speaking of: “we’re not holding her up for anyone to look at, you know,” Felix grumbles, helping Dimitri fasten his cloak on.

“Of course not,” Dimitri agrees easily, nodding. They’re both probably worried enough to consider how vulnerable that would leave her to an arrow or something, even just a rock, from the crowd. Is it likely that anyone would do that? Not really, but it’s worth the caution anyway.

The least probable outcome is that they drop her, and that would surely never happen, but probably neither of them will be able to relax unless their daughter is tucked closely to them.

Before they go out to the balcony, Dimitri kisses Felix on the cheek ‘for luck’ like usual, but it’s a little more difficult for Felix to simply roll his eyes this time when there’s a baby tucked into Dimitri’s arms. She’s bundled up carefully so that no Faerghus wind can bite at her cheeks, but Felix worries a bit anyway. It’ll be a short speech, no doubt, and yet…

Dimitri smiles, Felix doesn’t. It’s par for the course, yet somehow everyone still insists that the citizens of Fhirdiad and beyond do like him. If they’re satisfied by his surliness, then it’s all the better for him, and privately he’s grateful that Dimitri doesn’t ask him to change his behavior.

(Felix had made the grave mistake of mentioning it once, getting an absolutely besotted look from Dimitri as he’d expressed how glad he was that their citizens were fond of Felix just as he himself was. Needless to say, Felix had nearly stormed out of the room with his red cheeks.)

It goes the same as it almost always does: Dimitri talks, his earnestness taking over and allowing him to deliver the sort of speech that truly touches those that listen. He admits to his worries, expresses his gratitude for each and every person’s well-wishes and contributions to their supplies, asks for their patience in light of him becoming a bit busier than normal…

He reveals the princess’ name and receives a plethora of cheers in response, which privately makes Felix feel a bit vindicated. Sure, they don’t know what it means, but they still think it sounds pretty, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? Is it so strange that a child of Faerghus would have a name that related to a weapon?

Plus, unoriginal jokes about swords that Sylvain is almost certainly going to deliver aside, Dimitri and Felix both love swords. Naming their first child after something they both love makes sense. It’s a shared interest, something they’ve both always enthused over…

This is what Felix spends most of this impromptu ceremony mulling over, until he hears Dimitri saying his name -- that snaps him back into the present moment.

“It goes without saying, of course, that without Felix, I would be at a loss. He named our daughter, so please be sure to let him know if it strikes your fancy. I know he’s going to be a wonderful father.”

Damn him.

And of course he’s smiling at Felix so lovingly that there’s simply no way for Felix to scold him. He’s resigned to gifting the citizens of Fhirdiad a crumb of insight into their relationship, something for them to coo over; he leans up to brush his lips against Dimitri’s cheek, stealing Brenna back from his arms.

“We’re very grateful for your support,” Felix says to the crowd, feeling a little flushed from the applause that he can hear, the cheering… He doesn’t do a lot of the talking to their people, so even a sparse statement like this still excites them. His father had had much more talent for public speech than Felix ever developed.

… Still, though. He doesn’t want it to sound fake. Felix clears his throat, braves continuing: “I never expected to be able to have this life. If you understand Dimitri at all, you know that he would never have married me if it would have upset his citizens.” Which he thinks is unfair, and wrong, and yet he probably would have encouraged that even still. It’s not like Felix felt that he had a right to keep Dimitri to himself, and the idea of them being selfish with Faerghus and how it would be run, after all the personal losses they’d suffered, would never sit right with him.

“... So thank you. For not giving him an excuse to deprive himself.” It’s a bit grumpy, of course, but that’s only to be expected from Felix. He’s never the most emotionally forthcoming, least of all when it’s a sensitive issue and he’s involved, but there’s no lack of sincerity in his words. Their citizens matter to him as well, quite deeply, Felix just prefers to show that in his actions rather than through public words.

There’s laughter, but it’s warm, and Dimitri looks appropriately abashed to have Felix call him out on his tendencies in front of nearly all of Fhirdiad.

“By your leave, then,” Dimitri carries on, grinning despite his embarrassment, “I think we’ll return to marveling at our daughter. Rest assured that we intend to share her development with you.” He stops short of promising too much, though Felix is still wary about turning their daughter into the people’s princess to fawn over too often.

Dimitri’s arm comes down around Felix’s shoulders and he steers them around, away, back inside the castle and its safety. Both of them seem to deflate a little the moment the balcony doors are shut behind them.

“We’re bathing her now,” Felix says, firm and fussy, just as Dimitri adores. “Not just brushing off the dirt. She’s not getting into her crib like that.”

And just like that, Felix validates every suspicion Dimitri’s ever had about the type of parent he would end up becoming. He’s helpless but to smile, to nod, and let Felix march them off wherever he likes.

There are only two downsides to having their daughter that Dimitri’s found. He’s not blaming her, of course, only feeling a bit foolish for not considering at least one of these issues beforehand. He’d thought about plenty of ways he might be unsuited for parenthood, but somehow neglected to consider his sleep when worrying about his mental health. Babies don’t necessarily sleep through the night. According to Mercedes, this doesn’t last very long, only a few months, but it’s enough right now to still be giving Dimitri some trouble. Something that had truly helped to make him feel more balanced was having regular amounts of sleep, around the same time every night. Now, though, it’s more likely for him to be woken up by his daughter’s crying than any nightmare of his, like he’d struggled with before. Dimitri has never exactly been the best at getting to sleep to begin with, but it’s even harder now that he can’t roll over and try again right away; he has to tend to his daughter.

Of course, Felix is happy to take on that duty a lot of the time, but he needs his own rest, has responsibilities of his own during the day as well. It’s unfortunate, and though Dimitri doesn’t hold a single bit of regret, especially not as he rocks his daughter back to sleep, her fist curled around some of his hair, but it’s still difficult. There’s a dull ache in his head fairly often now, something he’d thought he’d left behind, and Dimitri truly hasn’t missed the pain.

The only other aspect is something that makes him feel downright pitiful, but he’s… a little lonely. His days are spent tending to his kingly chores, advising, reviewing budgets, and in the evening, when he finally has leave to see his family, he and Felix spend it fussing over Brenna.

On the brightside, Dimitri eats better these days, if only because Brenna is often plopped carefully nearby and watches him with wide eyes. Felix only has to make a few ‘subtle’ comments about how she might inherit her appetite from her father before Dimitri starts pushing himself to clear his plate more often. It’s honestly stressful, since he may as well have forgotten what it’s like to indulge in food, leaving him at a loss as to how to model the behavior for her, but Felix looks so pleased that it’s hard to complain.

One night, Felix offers to put Brenna down to bed while Dimitri takes a bath, which he gratefully accepts and subsequently sinks into the hot water, feeling exhausted. By the time he’s out, towel wrapped around him, Felix enters the bathroom.

Or, well, he tries to, but sort of stops short once he sees Dimitri’s mostly-nude form, which is always flattering.

Dimitri grins, and because he has much less shame than Felix does about this, he steps closer towards his husband. Before he can open his mouth, Felix opens his own. “You look good,” he blurts out, taking his own steps forward. His hand comes out to rest on Dimitri’s stomach, patting it almost awkwardly, and then it slides up his torso over his ribs, which even Dimitri can tell are less prominent.

“Thank you,” Dimitri replies, with only one small snort of laughter. Felix scowls anyway. Dimitri kisses it, sweeps Felix off his feet and into his arms with only mild protests, carrying him to bed. When he lays Felix down, Dimitri can’t help but beam at him, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips.

This is what he’s missed, the chance to simply indulge in each other, to feel Felix’s warmth against his skin. Dimitri delights in every inch of them touching, in the sound of Felix’s breath hitching underneath these kisses, and the way Felix doesn’t hesitate at all to reach out and pull at the towel around Dimitri’s waist.

“That’s hardly fair,” Dimitri murmurs against his lips, moving down to press kisses on Felix’s jaw, down the line of his throat, rubbing his nose against the skin there affectionately, too.

“Do something about it, then,” Felix snaps back at him, unapologetic and unsympathetic.

Lucky for them both, Dimitri fully intends to.

He’s midway through pulling off Felix’s shirt, getting soft, encouraging noises and Felix’s thigh being offered to him for his own enjoyment when they hear a wail.

Despite himself, Dimitri feels a brief pang of sadness, though he feels guilty for it. He’s well aware that being a parent doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be a person, still, but every time he feels even the slightest bit put out by Brenna, Dimitri feels terrible for it. Felix seems to take it all much more in stride, though; ‘children are annoying, even your own,’ he’d said. Felix never seems to feel guilty in the same way, able to roll his eyes or heave a sigh even with Brenna in his arms. He’s right that she doesn’t seem to notice, too happy to see her father and bat at his face with her uncoordinated hands.

“It’s my fault,” Felix grumbles, gently shoving Dimitri off of him, sitting up properly. “I should have tried feeding her, it’s probably been too long since dinner…” Without any deliberation, Felix gets up to head into their nursery, leaving Dimitri to stare, forlorn, after him.

“You could sense that you weren’t the center of attention anymore, couldn’t you?” Dimitri hears Felix murmur, which makes him chuckle, even as he collapses into their pillows, feeling defeated. “All babies can,” Felix continues, and Dimitri smiles so widely that it hurts.

After a few minutes of soft soothing, Dimitri decides not to stay waiting. He gets to his feet, pulls some nightclothes from the armoire and pulls them on before making himself comfortable in bed once more. Felix won’t be angry, he’ll just be glad to see Dimitri trying to get rest, just as he is to see Dimitri eating more. Both endeavors have been a process over years, Felix’s approval consistent throughout it all, but it hasn’t stopped feeling a bit embarrassing to Dimitri.

As a child, he’d thought these tasks were supposed to remain simple. Now, after going through a war and ruling a country each day, he wishes that someone had warned him about how difficult the mundane and necessary could be, too.

Brenna’s giggle from the next room over helps to reaffirm his resolve, though. At the very least, if his daughter struggles this way, Dimitri won’t let her feel alone in it, won’t let her have to question if something is strange about her.

When Felix will be able to come back to bed is anyone’s guess, so Dimitri closes his eyes, exhales slowly. So it goes.

Parenthood.

It does get easier.

Brenna starts to sleep for longer periods of time, much to Dimitri’s relief. The throbbing he’s felt in his forehead starts to dissipate, he feels more steady, less likely to snap at someone. Things feel more normal once Felix is the grumpier one in their marriage again.

She’s gotten more and more grabby as time marches on, tugging too hard on the hair she grasps onto, pulling it out of ties, sometimes knocking things like cups over in her haste to touch them. Though she’s becoming a bit of a terror, Dimitri finds it endlessly amusing, sometimes even placing things in front of her himself just to watch her reach for them.

He’d never known how much babies liked to roll, either, until watching Brenna have her fun on her parents’ bed. She starts to seem rebellious, turning over no matter how she’s placed, giggling happily all the while. It starts to make changing her truly a chore at some point. Nothing she does with a smile or a laugh can really register as a bad thing to Dimitri, though, so he’s reluctantly resigned to her fidgeting.

At meals, she’s no longer put in some sort of basket lined with blankets to lay in while they eat, more able to actually stay upright if one of her parents seats her. The table is, of course, too tall for her, but it’s obvious Brenna is present. There would never be any reason for Dimitri and Felix to leave a seat open between them otherwise. The little laughs that float through the dining hall are a good giveaway, too.

Both Felix and Dimitri are of the mind that their daughter takes after the other, sometimes for the exact same reason. She’s difficult sometimes, with how she squirms, sometimes fussing even when being given what she wants (a toy, her water, more blankets, or simply attention), and it’s this very contrary streak that feels reminiscent of them both.

So perhaps the seed truly had worked its magic and made her their child not just in looks, but also spirit, personality.

It’s precisely that instinct of theirs that leads to quite a predictable list of suggested gifts for Brenna’s first birthday. Of course they aren’t recommending anything to the citizenry, but to their personal friends, Felix and Dimitri have come up with a small set of ideas.

Naturally, Felix is the one putting a ‘child-sized wooden sword’ on the very top of it. Dimitri helpfully adds in a lance as well, to which Felix scowls.

“It’s traditional,” Dimitri defends, though he’s smiling, always endeared by Felix’s own streak of independence, his fierce desire to choose a weapon that differs from the rest of their group.

“As if I want our daughter to be traditional,” Felix snaps back. Dimitri loves him very much for that, and has to concede the point. He crosses it out on the list as he kisses Felix on the cheek.

Moments later, Dimitri chuckles, giving Felix a smile. “You know, we could truly break tradition and put a book in our daughter’s hands instead of a weapon.”

This, too, prompts a scowl.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

And how very like Felix that is makes Dimitri laugh harder. Unique, but not entirely forsaking the culture he was raised in.

Dimitri doesn’t blame him anyway; they both speak the language of blades, of swords specifically, and there’s something undeniably thrilling about the idea of teaching their daughter that same appreciation. Perhaps she, too, will end up loving the way steel can sing, admiring the craftsmanship that goes into the weapons. They can dream, can’t they? Of having a child who will be as enthusiastic as they are?

Luckily for them both, that dream seems closer than they had truly dared to hope. It’s Sylvain and Ingrid’s present to the little princess, a wooden sword that’s still too big for her despite being scaled down, and Brenna takes to it with delight. Her approach isn’t perfect, grabbing it by the blade rather than the hilt first, but Felix’s snort of amusement is undeniable. He takes it from her small hand and rights it for her, making Brenna stare up at him with big eyes, a wide smile, and Dimitri strongly suspects they’ve made a menace, actually.

Much to the delight of nearly everyone present, Brenna takes her new present and seems to thank her honorary Uncle Sylvain with a solid whack on the arm.

“Okay, wow,” he says, “definitely inherited Felix’s manners.” Sylvain crouches a little to look Brenna in the eyes, expression serious, rubbing his arm in a very exaggerated manner. “You don’t have to be like him, you know. You can be nice. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Ingrid puts her arms out for the baby, still giggling as Dimitri hands her over. Everyone allowed to hold her is present in the room; their old house’s members, Byleth included. “Well, I think she’s shaping up to be pretty smart.”

If they’re honest about it, this party is more about an excuse for everyone to get their fair chance at holding her than anything else anyway. Perhaps there’s a kernel of it that’s about celebrating the continued peace they’ve experienced, Dimitri and Felix actually carving out some happiness for themselves, and similar things, but mainly they’re here to have some private, unimpeded time to have Brenna in their arms and laps.

To her credit, she handles this quite well, being passed around between their friends and seeming no less excited each time she’s transferred to a different pair of arms. She smiles brightly up at them all, though she does make a grab at Dedue’s earring, which has Dimitri panicking a little.

“Oh, please don’t pull, sweetheart,” Dimitri fusses, reaching out, but Dedue is easily able to reach up and gently pry her fingers off the accessory.

“It’s alright,” he says, his voice as warm as always, and Dimitri is so fond that his heart aches. “Unlike Sylvain, she hasn’t hurt me.”

Dimitri tries, and fails, not to snicker. He takes a seat next to Dedue, his dearest friend even now, and puts a hand on his arm, just for the sake of touching him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… If it isn’t too much of a burden, would you share some of Duscur’s culture with her when she’s old enough to understand? Just… some of its history, its practices… You’ve shared so much with me already, and I’m deeply grateful for it all. I want Brenna to have that same understanding if she’s to rule… but I think it best if it comes from you directly.”

Dedue smiles at him, and there’s a moment where he and Dimitri do nothing but smile at each other, almost communicating silently between the two of them.

“I can’t say that I know what age she might be interested… but it is something I had considered myself. I had a feeling you would want that for her. It’s something that… Byleth has encouraged,” Dedue says, a little flustered, still shy about using that name instead of a title. Dimitri can relate, he’s sure they all can. “I’ve been writing down all that I can remember, to preserve as much as I can. We’ll be visiting Duscur soon again, too. I suspect it’ll bring back memories.”

It must be difficult, provoking mixed feelings no doubt, to travel there. Dimitri is fiercely grateful to the professor for being by Dedude’s side and supporting his endeavors, all the more certain that one day he’ll bring Brenna to Duscur as well, perhaps when she’s old enough for Dimitri to be somewhat transparent about what all went on there.

“You know that I will gladly have copies made of it. Under my watch, of course, to ensure there is no harm done to the original.” There is still prejudice that lurks within Dimitri’s kingdom, perhaps more subtle now, but Dimitri won’t chance Dedue’s efforts being sabotaged.

“I do know,” Dedue agrees, his expression rather content, but soon turned towards Brenna instead. That much is fine and fair, Dimitri has become quite used to his daughter taking up more attention than him nowadays.

“I hope you also know,” Dimitri begins, honestly feeling nearly shy over voicing this sentiment, “that I would not be here without you, my friend.” He owes so much to Dedue, can never truly make him understand just how grateful Dimitri is.

Dedue’s laugh is soft, always low enough that Dimitri listens closer to hear it, to savor it. “That is, of course, mutual, Dimitri.”

He blinks, and then fumbles his words in embarrassment, all too aware that he is being teased. “I -- yes, I suppose it is. But you have done more for me than I will ever be able to articulate, Dedue, and --”

He’s cut off by Mercedes, sweeping into the room with a cake on a platter that looks too large for them all to indulge in by themselves. The birthday girl herself will be having so little of it, too, that Dimitri almost feels like it might have been a waste of her talent.

Mercedes is cheerful, though, her voice a comforting and familiar call as she heads over to a circular table, setting it down in the middle. “Is everyone ready to have some of the cake?”

Brenna stays in Dedue’s arms as they rise to join everyone for dessert, though he does pass her over to Felix once they assemble. In the back of his mind, Dimitri wonders if Felix is considering having Brenna divide up the cake herself with her new sword.

Wisely, they defer to Mercedes’ judgment instead.

She cuts an incredibly small piece and digs a fork into it herself, taking steps towards Felix and offering a tiny bite out towards the day’s star. “Happy birthday, Brenna,” Mercedes says softly, “would you have the first taste? I made it just for you.” Naturally, as she’s a curious child and children seem to often love sugar, Brenna stretches out to try and get closer to the fork, mouth open wide.

There are no shortage of smiles around the table, and Dimitri feels so blessed to have made it to this moment. He’s surrounded by loving friends who supported him through horrors he hardly wishes to name, and they’ve all continued to gift Dimitri with loyalty and care that extends even to his daughter as well.

He has a husband who would undoubtedly do anything for him, who trusts Dimitri enough to pledge himself to him with his heart and sword alike. He’s lucky enough to see Felix hold their daughter close, to be sweet and vulnerable with her in a way that Dimitri is certain he hasn’t been with anyone else before.

It’s not Dimitri’s birthday, but it feels a bit like it with how much love he can sense from around him.

“My turn, my turn!” Annette says gleefully, stealing Brenna from Felix’s arms, making herself comfortable by the cake. She’s leaning against Mercedes’ side, no doubt complimenting her baking skills for still being in tip-top shape, and the sight of the three of them makes Dimitri’s heart feel full.

He chances looking over at his husband, finds Felix’s gaze directed upon them, too, looking similarly fond.

Neither of them are much for sweets, so Dimitri knows Felix won’t mind if he takes the moment to steal him away, too.

Felix doesn’t startle when Dimitri wraps an arm around his waist from behind, just relaxes into his touch and presses his back to Dimitri’s chest. “She liked the sword,” Felix says, a smug note in his tone.

Dimitri snorts, inelegant, and Felix tilts his head enough for Dimitri to see his smile at the sound. “She’s our child, after all. It seems as if the seed truly did work its magic for us.”

Felix shifts a little more, then. It’s enough to give Dimitri the impression that he would fully turn in his arms and actually make eye contact with him if they weren’t in public, but Felix is still not the biggest fan of overt displays of affection in front of others. There’s no doubt they’d be teased for it right now anyway, particularly with Sylvain so nearby. He might appear as though he’s occupied, but he hardly misses a chance to razz Felix.

“It was a good decision,” Felix mumbles, quiet like he’s embarrassed to admit it. To Dimitri it seems like a silly thing to be hesitant to say, but Felix’s pride is a complex, fickle thing that Dimitri has yet to truly understand, try as he might.

“I’m glad you don’t regret it.” It might be too honest to say so that way, but Dimitri lets the words spill out anyway, unguarded as he is at this moment. “Seeing you happy, seeing you with her in your arms… It really brings me so much joy, Felix.”

The scowl that Felix levels him with is almost startling, but Dimitri has developed a sort of resistance to that expression on his husband’s features even when it’s not exactly expected.

“If you honestly thought I’d regret it, you don’t understand anything. Which, by this point, is a feat in itself, boar.”

“I didn’t mean it so seriously,” Dimitri tries to protest, but Felix has already narrowed his eyes, made up his mind.

“You did,” he accuses, “and I know it, because I’ve heard you. Just because she’s too young to understand your self-deprecation doesn’t mean I never overhear you. You hold her and talk about how flawed you are, as if you should never have been a parent at all. I think you’ll find that Brenna most certainly disagrees.

“So do I, if you haven’t noticed. I made my feelings very clear to you before I agreed to this at all. If I wasn’t going to follow your leadership and accept you as king without careful consideration, do you really think I would have agreed to have a child with you if I wasn’t sure of things?”

From across the room, Dimitri can see Dedue and Byleth giving him and Felix a look that obviously spells concern, but that’s as much distraction as he can allow himself.

“Every doubt I had,” Felix continues, undaunted, probably too fired up to give much care to their surroundings, “was related to the stupid nobles and their rules or myself, not you. You’ve always been good with children. Don’t insult my judgment, or Brenna’s, by worrying that either of us think poorly of you as a father.”

He deflates a little once he’s gotten all that out, which makes Dimitri smile again despite how harsh the words may sound. He’s still complimenting Dimitri, after all, even though ‘hissing’ is probably an appropriate word to describe things right now. Privately he thinks about Felix and cats, how they should perhaps get one officially for their family, but he chooses to stow away the idea for later.

“I truly don’t linger on that thought often, my love,” Dimitri tries to insist.

Felix opens his mouth the moment Dimitri takes a breath, effectively walking all over him verbally, but Dimitri doesn’t truly mind. His passion and sincerity here are appreciated, particularly since he’s trying to instill confidence in Dimitri.

“You were right to do things this way. I’m… grateful. I would have hated seeing someone else bear you a child. I’m glad she’s ours, entirely.” It’s nice to have that reassurance offered, too. Neither of them are particularly jealous people, mostly by virtue of not having much cause to be, even if Felix insists that Dimitri is simply oblivious to the overtures he receives. Even without a streak of jealousy, though, Dimitri can easily understand why Felix hated the idea of someone else providing Dimitri with a child.

It’s an intimate act, most of all, and it would tether someone else to Dimitri for years to come. It would also open plenty of ways for the nobles who are more traditional to complain about Felix’s position in Dimitri’s life. Of course Dimitri wouldn’t bend to their whims, wouldn’t give their thoughts any real weight, but it would hurt even him to hear, so surely it would hurt Felix even more so. After a life full of his family’s dedication to the royal family, it hurts to think that the same nobles who treated his father as a friend would possibly raise a complaint about Felix’s behavior due to something as changeable as tradition.

Perhaps that’s what Dimitri wants to come from his reign at the end of the day. It’s something he’s learned from Felix, which makes it all the more poignant: there’s no reason to remain shackled to the past. There’s merit in guidance from past generations, there’s a sense of belonging that often comes from past celebrations and behaviors, and of course Dimitri still deeply values honoring one’s family and legacy, but…

He’s also come to understand what a weight that can be, both personally and for society as a whole. Claude and Edelgard were right about a great many things, Dimitri can see that quite plainly, and the whole of the country is in need of change. Why shouldn’t it start in Faerghus?

He’d been kidding, a little, about putting a book in their daughter’s hands instead of a weapon right away, but Dimitri thinks the idea isn’t a bad one. So many memories of his childhood are filled with the clash of steel and lessons meant to prepare them for eventual combat, but in this nice Faerghus, in this new Fódlan, the goal is to avoid such warfare. It might be time to change the tradition of what children spend their time doing, what sort of gifts they inherit, what their parents pass down…

Naturally Dimitri doesn’t intend to continue the tense, unpleasant relations Faerghus has with its neighbors, either. This new era should be one of respect and unity, the sort of creed that Claude had lived by. Dimitri has every intention of writing to him for his advice and ideas moving forward, though it’ll most likely be in simply a friendship capacity rather than one ruler to another.

They might as well change the conventions around marriage and such as well, too, while they’re examining all this. Why shouldn’t a ruler simply marry for love? Why should they be forced to reproduce? Is succession through a bloodline truly the best way? Perhaps Edelgard had had the right of that. Dimitri wishes he had more time to talk with her, that they both could have been calmer, able to listen to each other’s views.

Even now, Dimitri holds regrets about that. Their last conversation… Dimitri had tried to be open-minded, felt that he was, but looking back, it hardly feels like enough effort. He has to do better in her name now, to move forward and take the best of what she believed and implement it.

There’s nothing to say that any of the way Faerghus has done things must stay the same, or that it was ever a good idea in the first place. Loving his country and his people means that Dimitri wants to truly do right by them, to find a better path for them all, and if that means changing some laws, breaking some conventions, so be it.

The past, as Felix had so rightfully showed him, often served to be a millstone around one’s neck. Dimitri was all too familiar with that, with the inability to simply move forward, his feet too heavy with guilt and regret to budge. He doesn’t want that for Faerghus.

More than anything, he doesn’t want that for his daughter.

Perhaps she’ll be fortunate, perhaps Brenna will never have to see the horrors that he and Felix have. Maybe some of the decisions Dimitri makes now can help make that easier for her, give her a better life, one without so much pressure.

She may not want to rule. Shouldn’t she have the right to refuse?

These thoughts are the product of listening to so many of his loved ones, his beloved professor and classmates, his long-lost sister… but Felix, especially, had had such an impact. His words and his stubborn steadiness even when facing such loss had gotten through to Dimitri.

It’s one of the reasons that he married Felix, loves him so dearly, and never had any doubt or worry himself about the type of father he’d be. More than anything, Felix would impart a practical, fair approach to life onto their child. Dimitri’s own sense of direction and justice hadn’t been the most reliable, but Felix had always been good and righteous in a way that Dimitri appreciates deeply now.

“I’m just as glad,” Dimitri finally says, his voice soft, unbearably fond. “I cannot wait to see Brenna emulate the very best of you, including your… rebellious nature.”

Felix only scowls again, shoving at Dimitri’s shoulder half-heartedly; it’s a reprimand, but an empty one. “If you put it like that, we have a problem on our hands. She’s already a little boar herself, breaking cribs… The kingdom won’t last in the face of that.”

Dimitri laughs, finally gives into the urge to lean down and press his lips to Felix’s. Despite the setting, it’s rewarding to feel Felix succumb, too, and return the gesture.

“So be it, then,” he whispers, lips still brushing against Felix’s own with each word. “We’ll rebuild again if we have to, and give her the option of helping.”

Felix raises his eyebrows, unsure whether to read into that or not.

“Cleaning up after your mess is a good lesson for kids. She could probably use that much.”

They pull back some then, not giving their friends any more of a show than they’ve already experienced, although it may not even be a concern with the way they’re laughing and Brenna is shrieking in delight.

“It doesn’t have to fall on her shoulders, though. We could appoint someone else.”

There’s no mistaking what Dimitri is suggesting, but Felix scoffs at him like the idea holds no appeal.

“‘We’? Pick someone yourself. At that point I’ll be too exhausted to bother giving you any more advice.” They both know it’s not true. The day Felix bites his tongue and refrains from giving Dimitri his opinion on political decisions and such is the day he passes away. Dimitri hopes fervently that that’s still decades away. Felix does soften a little, though, and gives Dimitri a stiff nod of his approval. “It’s good you’ve considered that, though. She might not be suited for the throne at all, if she stays this spoiled.”

Dimitri chuckles again and gives an absent-minded sort of nod, imagining it. He’d be proud that Brenna grew up to be a queen, certainly, but if she chose otherwise, Dimitri really does believe he’d be alright with that. After so much struggle, all the losses surrounding him, Dimitri simply wants to see his daughter live without having to carry as many scars as both her fathers have. If she could grow up to have smooth, uncalloused hands that have hardly had to grip a weapon, Dimitri knows he could rest easily.

“I think a part of me would be happy if she grew up to be a professor,” he muses, lips curled up into a smile without even realizing it. Byleth was someone so important to them all, it would actually deeply satisfy Dimitri to see his daughter follow in their footsteps.

Felix snorts at him again, unsurprisingly. “Sentimental.” It’s an accusation that Dimitri can’t and wouldn’t refute.

“We’ll see. We have plenty of time to enjoy watching her decide.”

The luxury of that is still something that has yet to set in properly for them all, Dimitri is sure. This birthday party is partly about that very thing. It’s a celebration of life and the future, the idea that they’ve made something that will last far beyond them. It’s not entirely fair to think of their daughter as representing so much, but as the first child from their generation of companions, Brenna absolutely acts as a reminder that family is something they can all have now.

Even if not all of them will go on to create families of their own, it’s likely that the possibility feels more real now. Maybe it feels more like it's within reach of their grasp now, like a safer thing to wish for. If Dimitri and Felix could help to bring that sort of peace to their friends, all the worry they had gone through first would be even more worth it.

(Neither of them have quite said it aloud so upfront, but it’s obvious from how they both act towards her that Brenna is already worth anything and everything they’ve had to go through to reach this point.)

“You’re right,” Felix says softly, his tone low and thoughtful in a way that’s still relatively rare for him. It’s quick to change, though, accompanied by a smirk. “The birthday party won’t last forever, though, so you ought to quit clinging to me and go enjoy it.”

It’s a fair point. Dimitri makes Felix endure one more kiss to the top of his head, a silent expression of his gratitude, and then he’s off.

He joins Ashe, Dedue, and the professor, has himself a slice of cake that he swears he can truly almost taste, and breathes easily.

Felix takes in the scene for a moment, that smirk fading into a more sincere, secret look of content. He wedges himself between Sylvain and Ingrid soon after, and it’s easy to join in the conversation, to roll his eyes at them both. It still feels like home.

Eventually Annette and Mercedes give up their turn with the baby, Annette coming to hug Felix from behind while Mercedes offers Ashe the squirming, smiling birthday girl.

It’s warm, all of it. It’s peaceful and simple, a day without regret, without any fear looming over them.

The future stretches out in front of them, as wide and open as the sky above, and the laughter of Faerghus’ new generation is a balm to their hearts.

Felix stands at the royal training ground, tapping his sword against his leg as he scowls, the very picture of impatience. Her Highness, the first princess of Faerghus, is late again. He’s come to expect it by now for one reason or another, but it’s no less acceptable. If she were late to anything else she’d get in trouble, but because she happens to train with the sword under her own father’s instruction, Brenna always seems to think she can get away with it.

(Inevitably, she will, because neither of her parents have quite figured out how exactly to punish her without feeling like it’s too harsh. She gets a stern talking to ever so often, but beyond that, it’s difficult to say.)

Eventually, at least fifteen minutes after the scheduled start time, Brenna comes running up, practically skidding to a stop in front of her father, a grin on her face.

“What have you done now?” Felix asks, no preamble needed, already wary.

“Nothing! I was feeding the cats!” Her smile is bright, her hair a mess from the run, falling out of the tie that Felix himself had put in this morning. He sighs, taking steps forward, combing his fingers through his daughter’s hair to restore some sort of order to her dark locks.

“Every cat in Fhirdiad, I take it.”

“I’m supposed to be good to the people,” Brenna says sagely, nodding.

“Generally speaking, your father meant the actual humans, but you already know that.” She’s mischievous, which Felix honestly isn’t sure of where it came from. It’s a little relieving that Brenna doesn’t cry as often as he had when he was younger, since he doesn’t know how well he’d handle an onslaught of tears from his child that he couldn’t do much to stop.

With nimble, practiced fingers, Felix pulls her hair back into its ponytail properly, then lets out another sigh.

“But I’m ready to train now!” Brenna chirps at him, hopping backwards and scrambling around to grab one of the swords from the rack. They’re blunted and nearly harmless, though they are still fairly heavy. Brenna tends to wobble a little when she first takes up the weapon, a pattern that continues today, but she turns to face him with a determined look. “Show me your best, Dad!”

Felix only feels the slightest bit guilty when she topples over from one of his strikes and ends up whining at him for not going easy on her after all. He’s her father, she complains, he should know better than to actually do his authentic best.

He looks forward to the day that he doesn’t have to take it easy on her at all, and perhaps being the one to stumble instead.

At dinner, Felix watches his daughter slide her chair closer to Dimitri’s, every leg of it scraping against the ground loud enough to make him cringe. She puts on her best attempt at an innocent face (Felix doesn’t think she knows what that is, actually) and pouts at him, regaling the story of their training earlier.

Dimitri’s laugh is warm and rich as he listens to her, one hand occupied with ruffling the hair of their other, youngest daughter. She’s too young to really know what her sister’s up to, and Felix can only hope she doesn’t inherit the same behavior.

“I hate to tell you this, my dear,” Dimitri starts, now working on feeding their youngest off of his own plate, scooping up some bites of mashed potatoes and vegetables, “but I think your father was still holding back some. He’s swept me off my feet a few times, too, you know, and I’m quite a bit heavier than you.”

Felix rolls his eyes, already anticipating the smile that Dimitri is now giving him, thinking he’s clever for the double meaning in that answer. Yes, yes, perhaps he has managed to woo Dimitri once or twice over the years, but that shouldn’t impress anyone too much. Felix is probably already out of anniversary ideas, let alone birthday gifts, and fully intends to resort to just being especially affectionate on those days now.

Or swords.

He and Dimitri still do love swords very much, so really, Felix ought to just make an official policy between them. They’ve already been teased for decades now over having weaponry as a love language, it might as well be something they indulge in. You just can’t ever truly have too many swords, and their children can inherit them one day, or they’ll stay locked in the royal treasury to be used as some incredible part of the history of Faerghus in the future.

The idea of that doesn’t actually irritate Felix the way such things might have in the past.

There’s something actually rather nice about imagining it. He’d gotten over the stories of Loog and Kyphon in his teenage years, disillusioned by it all, and fed up with the fact that they were just stories. It was all glorified, lacking in any of the real complexities of war and human relationships, and it was tiring. What do they really know about those two even now? Hardly anything.

So Felix can see the appeal in something irrefutable, something solid. A physical token of what he and Dimitri share that will tell part of their story, make it impossible to distort or misunderstand. Swords can be engraved, or given a name. It’s something to mull over. Summing up all his feelings will take many months anyway, so Felix considers it lucky that he has time to think about it.

“Father?” a voice calls to him, soft and curious. It shakes Felix from his thoughts.

His son is looking up at him from the seat next to Felix’s, his eyes big and wide. He’s small and bookish, not a type that Felix is especially adept at dealing with, but he’s put in effort. Looking back on his own childhood, Felix can reluctantly admit that his own father’s inquiries about what he was studying, what his friends were doing, what he was reading and all that… actually did mean something to him. At the time it had felt tedious to answer, but he had never quite had to doubt his father’s investment in him.

Felix wants that for his son. So he reads more now, and lets his son read to him too, especially at night. It’s a quick way for him to nod off, which leaves Felix to pry the book out of his little hands and mark their place for the next day.

“Do you not like tonight’s dinner?” the little boy asks, looking worried. It’s not as if he made it, so there’s no reason for his concern, really, but it warms Felix all the same.

He shakes his head. “I was thinking, that’s all.” Felix continues with a slight smirk on his face. “About how badly your sister lost to me earlier today, in fact.”

He eats his supper then, listening to Brenna’s offended rebuttal and his son’s quiet little chuckle.

It tastes incredible, and Felix makes sure to send his compliments to the chef.

Bedtime is a production now more than ever, having three children. None of them are the same age, nor the same temperament or energy level, so it takes time. More than anything, it’s convincing Brenna to go to bed, refusing to let her stay up that much later just because she’s older now, that drags out the evening. It’s something she brings up nearly every week, more and more certain that she’s mature enough to stay up and still read or play board games, especially if any of the former Blue Lions are visiting. Prying her away from her Uncle Sylvain when he stops by is a feat, especially.

It’s usually Felix who handles the grooming of their kids, something Dimitri has never been particularly talented at. His teenage haircut is the reason why Felix won’t let him near any of their children’s hair, even to brush it, really.

It’s Dimitri, though, who the children all curl up around and beg for some sort of family story time. Felix swears he can hardly fit into he and his husband’s own bed when there're three little ones all nestled close to their father’s side. It makes him smile, though, and it’s sort of fun to squish himself in and feel all that warmth.

Faerghus is cold, its winters brutal, but the royal family seems to hardly feel it.

Dimitri’s greatest talent shines during these moments, a skill that neither of them expected. He’s gentle, just as he was afraid he never could be, and capable of peeling the children off of him slowly, taking them into his arms and carrying them off to bed. One by one, Dimitri will go tuck them in and without fail, they never stir. His grip is never too tight, his movements never too rash.

Each child gets a kiss on their forehead when their father lays them down, and if Dimitri is teary-eyed sometimes over it, they’re never conscious to know.

(Felix knows, though, when Dimitri comes back into their bedroom and makes himself comfortable in bed next to him. It’s in the way Dimitri slides next to him, ducks his head into Felix’s neck and breathes in slowly.)

“Do you ever think about Kyphon and Loog?” Felix asks, his fingers buried in Dimitri’s hair, playing with it idly, letting Dimitri soak up whatever comfort he needs.

The way Dimitri’s head jerks up is comical, as is the confusion written all over his face. “Well, yes. I do. You usually do not, however.”

Felix hums.

“I’m likely to be the last Fraldarius. I suppose I’ve just realized that. My uncle could outlive me, but now that the war’s over…” It’s a strange feeling to have sink in, makes him think of his brother and how he was initially supposed to marry Ingrid. She would have become his sister-in-law, the children they would have almost undoubtedly had meant to carry on the Fraldarius line.

No matter the fact that Dimitri had made the effort of attaching his last name to their children as well, it’s an afterthought to historians, surely. Felix doesn’t expect anything from it.

“In a way,” he continues, “we ended that legacy. Kyphon’s duty and the Fraldarius name will come to an end. Did you realize that when you decided you wanted to marry me?” It’s not meant to be cruel, it’s simple curiosity since Felix knows that Dimitri cared much more for their ancestry and those legends than Felix ever did.

Dimitri chuckles, but doesn’t lift his head.

“Would you believe me if I said that it had never truly occurred to me until now?”

Felix scoffs.

“Yes. Easily.”

No one else will point out Dimitri’s tendency to be impulsive, really, but Felix is well aware of it. He pursues what he wants, follows his heart now, and hardly considers the larger ramifications of that decision. It’s not so strange to think he had that very heart set on marrying Felix, closing his remaining eye to the implications and consequences of that.

“I don’t know that I’d view it in such a negative light, though,” Dimitri says softly, sounding very much like he’s musing more to himself than Felix. “Did it not even once cross your mind that perhaps things were meant to be this way?”

Felix frowns, his brows knit together, feeling skeptical but not for any real, solid reason. It strikes him as far fetched, but so does everything about their situation if Felix is honest. The ‘children grown from seeds’ part especially.

Dimitri shifts finally, no longer laying on top of Felix like he imagines a lion truly would laze about, settling on his side next to Felix now instead so that he can look at him.

“What if this is the outcome they would have wanted? We have no way of knowing. Some think they were in love, after all. It’s possible.”

Now Felix rolls his eyes, doesn’t bother hiding it.

“Ashe thinks that.”

“Ashe isn’t the only one,” Dimitri argues, his hand reaching out to run up and down Felix’s arm nice and slow, as if that’ll make Felix see his side of things. It won’t work. “I don’t know whether I think it’s true or not, but consider it, at least. Our bloodlines have stayed so close for countless years, Felix. Perhaps the reason was that they were always meant to unite.”

That would be romantic.

Incredibly so.

He and Dimitri being the ones to fulfill a long-standing destiny, acting on a love that was centuries old, bearing children from that. Romantic, and so implausible, really, so much like a fairytale that Felix wants to dismiss it out of hand.

Yet not entirely unappealing, and he blames Dimitri for that, for making him weak to the idea of such poetic notions. Love takes another victim in its quest to render everyone senseless; Felix reluctantly admits to being a casualty.

If they had ended up being the ones to unite their bloodlines as intended, that could even be another sign of peace yet to come. If this was meant to happen, if there truly was a Goddess watching over and guiding things, then maybe everything has worked out just right.

There is a small part of Felix still, a remnant of the crybaby he used to be, so attached to Dimitri, that revels in the idea of that. He isn’t one for soulmates, not seriously, but some tiny part of him feels thrilled and content at the idea that he and Dimitri were always going to be the ones who completed this journey together.

“Well,” he manages finally, trying to sound detached, like he isn’t unsteady because of the idea, “it’s not impossible. Though it does make me worry what we’ve unleashed upon Fódlan. If Brenna is the outcome of this… centuries’ long devotion, I wonder just how close Kyphon and Loog really were.” In his mind, the progeny of that sort of union would probably be much less rowdy, maybe more dignified. Although, it’s easy to argue that that’s exactly what Faerghus doesn’t need after so long.

“I truly don’t wish to see the Fraldarius name disappear, at any rate,” Dimitri continues. Felix knows this already. Dimitri kisses him softly on the mouth anyway, and far be it from Felix to complain or turn that down.

Decades have gone by and he still finds himself shivering at Dimitri’s touch, the simple glide of his palm up to Felix’s shoulder somehow tempting and too much, but never quite enough. Should they survive decades more, Felix is certain that reaction won’t fade, and he no longer knows whether he enjoys it or finds it frustrating.

“I know that. I’m not -- trying to make you feel guilty. We both know what history will record, and we both know how hard you’ll work to combat it. That’s enough for me.” Over the years, Felix has gotten better at voicing things like that, bit by bit. Small things to comfort Dimitri, to be more clear.

He’ll never say it to any of them aloud, but their friends were right. It hasn’t killed him to be more forthcoming.

Unless the smiles and affection that Dimitri gives so freely in response are truly as lethal as they feel, then Felix may have died a thousand deaths throughout their lifetimes, just staring at Dimitri’s face.

How fitting, that it’s Dimitri who would deliver his end in such a simple way.

He kisses Felix’s lips again, lingers long enough for Felix to feel his grin, and taste it, too.

“She’ll grow out of it, anyway, surely,” Dimitri murmurs, amusement so evident in his voice that Felix kicks at him.

“No, she’s a boar, through and through, running around the streets of Fhirdiad doing what she pleases. She’s worse than you ever were. At least you had manners, a sense of decorum.” They’ve gone wrong somewhere, surely, because Brenna’s rambunctious nature seems unstoppable.

“At least she hasn’t rubbed off on her siblings?” his husband offers, like that makes it any better. They still don’t know if Brenna will even want to ascend the throne anyway, but Felix likes to prepare for it, consider it an inevitable, and brace himself for the disasters that may come.

“Yet.”

Dimitri hums, steals another kiss, brushes his nose against Felix’s in another sickeningly sweet gesture that Felix succumbs to, mirroring.

“She has your ego, anyway.”

This time, Felix’s kick is very much sincere.

“I blame you for that, too. I told you that being so complimentary would give her a big head.” Felix is, admittedly, fond of that aspect of her, though. He’s seen what the world can do to young girls and the pressure it puts on them, so in a way, he’s glad for his daughter’s conceit. His real concern lies with something coming along to truly knock her down.

“She deserves the praise,” Dimitri argues, a frown causing a crease on his forehead that Felix wants to kiss away. “They all do. We’ve done well, Felix.” There’s something soft and beseeching in his tone now, which somehow flusters Felix.

He isn’t wrong, not really. If the worst that Brenna does is show up late to training because she’s feeding stray cats, or causing trouble in the market because she’s trying to barter for more fruits to give other children, then they’ve successfully done their jobs so far.

He can’t exactly take that praise and just accept it, though. Something about it feels too vulnerable. Felix still gives in to the impulse to kiss Dimitri’s forehead, though, and then promptly conks his own into Dimitri’s, not too hard. Not that Dimitri would even feel it, hardheaded as he is. (They both are.) “We still have plenty of work to do, don’t congratulate yourself too early. The other two have just barely started dressing themselves.”

Raising children is not like a war, except that it sort of is, and neither of them can afford to be complacent. They don’t have a war room or council to advise them on things pertaining to their children either, since each child is unique and their friends and peers can only give vague suggestions. Thinking of all the lost sleep from shrieking and crying babies, the amount of times their clothes have ended up covered in bodily fluids, the bruises from wildly flailing little fists and feet…

Maybe it is a war. It certainly is with Brenna; a war of attrition with her seeking to usurp their authority in regards to bedtime.

She won’t win against him, at least, but Dimitri…

Well, Felix is the shield for a reason, specifically because Dimitri’s defense is full of holes and is too vulnerable to pleading eyes.

(If Felix is also weak to someone else’s pleading, that’s his business.)

“You’re not wrong,” Dimitri concedes, apparently begrudgingly, though he chuckles all low and warm in the way that makes Felix’s stomach flip. “All the same… I’m proud of us, Felix.”

“You should be.” Despite having argued that it was too early to celebrate, Felix still thinks Dimitri’s right to feel that pride. Maybe he’s just glad that Dimitri’s learned to feel proud of his accomplishments at all, though. “Come here.”

Felix puts his arms out to welcome Dimitri back into them, missing his weight a little. He likes it more than he’d admit aloud, more fond of Dimitri’s outrageously sculpted torso than anyone else needs to know.

Dimitri comes to him, lays his head down right above Felix’s heart, something that never ceases to feel unnecessarily sappy but still makes him smile. Felix tilts his head to kiss the top of Dimitri’s, closes his eyes and lingers, the pressure of his lips almost fierce. ‘Felix kisses like he’s angry’ is something that Dimitri has said before to tease him, but probably no one realized that he meant even when it’s simple pecks like this.

“Do you think she’ll want to be queen?” Dimitri asks into his nightshirt, only slightly muffled.

It’s a tough question. One that Felix asks himself nearly every day when he watches his eldest daughter, trying to discern an answer, or simply discern what sort of person she’ll grow into. How much of her personality now will change? Felix has no real way to tell, nothing to compare to. He and their friends changed so dramatically because of loss, because of war, the shocking upheaval of safety and life as they knew it.

If all goes well and they manage to avoid another political assassination in Faerghus history, what will the change look like in their children? His only real knowledge to draw from is Glenn, the comments he can remember from his parents about him having always been rowdy, becoming more so as he grew up.

If Brenna follows in Glenn’s footsteps, they’ll have trouble on their hands.

He really would have been a good uncle, though. Certainly much more involved than Felix and Glenn’s own. It’s unlikely that Glenn would have matured enough to get rid of his teasing, playful nature entirely, so Felix can quite easily imagine him playing pranks with Brenna, spoiling her… He would have done the things he did for Felix as a child, carried her on his shoulders, snuck her extra dessert…

Felix has to sort of shake himself emotionally from the idea of all that, the comparisons he’s drawing in his head, before Dimitri thinks there’s something wrong with him. It’ll look strange if the emotions he’s feeling show on his face and Dimitri thinks it’s in response to the question he asked.

His honest answer, strange though it may seem coming from him especially, is: “I hope so.”

Dimitri lets out a surprised noise, which Felix expected, really.

“Do you?”

He does. It’s a bit of a mixed feeling that he has, but ultimately, Felix does hope that. He doesn’t wish the stress of ruling onto his daughter having seen what it’s done to Dimitri, the sleep he’s lost over it, the pressure, but…

“She’s probably what Faerghus needs. Since we’re trying to break away from tradition and all.” Regardless of how she grows up, Felix finds it very difficult to imagine their daughter suddenly becoming a rule-follower, or quiet. Barring tragedy, that is.

Who knows what sort of wild policies she might enact. Who knows whether she’ll bother distinguishing herself from her citizens at all. Dimitri’s already taken steps to be closer to the people, to let them be more involved and aware of his life as a person rather than just a figure for them to look up to. It wouldn’t surprise Felix if Brenna decided to do away with that distance entirely and simply spend her time amongst the citizens more than her knights. Perhaps there wouldn’t even be a queensguard.

Above all else, though, they’re raising her to care.

Felix has been passionate since his teenage years about being good to the people they’re charged to protect and Dimitri has had a commitment to being better about the other cultures and lands around Faerghus since he was young, too. Those are the sorts of lessons that Brenna receives when they educate her. Her tutors have been vetted thoroughly to make sure there isn’t any sort of prejudice in how they explain Fódlan’s history, and aren't unnecessarily glorifying Faerghus in their retellings.

Brenna should end up with an open mind and an understanding of the duty that she’d carry to her people, to all people, even outside of Faerghus. A duty to their neighbors as well to be respectful and want to work together for something more harmonious that benefits them all.

As long as she listens, as long as she follows her heart (like his father had said to Dimitri, which Felix owes him a ‘thank you’ for on many different levels), Felix thinks she’d be good for the country. It doesn’t have to be her, of course, and if Dimitri’s required to appoint a successor, Felix knows that they’ll be scrutinizing people intensely for that, has no doubt of his opinion (and Dedue’s especially) being something Dimitri takes into account, but.

If they’re skipping that, if it’s to be one of their children, Felix thinks Brenna would be good for it. Not simply because she’s their oldest, but more because so far, she’s the most overtly loving. That might set her up for pain, the sort of pain Dimitri’s experienced, too, but it also means she’s likely to collect enough people around her to help support her and soften those blows.

Dimitri, for his part, is quiet in response to Felix for quite some time. It’s a struggle to imagine his little girl on the throne, and he does have his reservations about leaving it to his own child. At the same time, though, at least he can be honest with her. She can know the true struggles that a monarch faces, and if the Goddess wills it, Dimitri will still be around for her to lean on for quite some time.

He doesn’t need to rule until his dying day; in fact, he’d rather not. Some time to breathe, to settle into bed at night with nothing but a good book and Felix tucked against his side… that sounds wonderful. It’ll be when, and if, she’s ready. Later in her life than Dimitri had to take the throne, to be certain. Perhaps he might even refuse to abdicate until she’s of a certain age.

Deep down, selfishly, he has some attachment to the idea of Brenna inheriting it from him. Dimitri had been guided by his father from a young age to be a ruler, so most of his memories of his father are from his lessons and thoughts on how one should behave as a king. Now, looking back, Dimitri can easily admit that his father was not always right, that perhaps things should have been handled differently, but the fondness for those memories won’t quite fade.

It would be nice, he thinks, to share similar things with his own child, but to live to see the tale she’ll create for the country.

At long last, Dimitri nods, still thoughtful, but certainly not asleep as Felix may have suspected. "She may be. She may not be, but I think it would be wonderful if she was."

Felix snorts his amusement, and his voice is sleep-heavy when he responds, making Dimitri smile. "It won't be our problem at that point. Once you abdicate, I'm forcing you to rest."

If the end of Dimitri’s life could be simply watching his children help continue to make their world better, developing friendships with the other nations around them, perhaps falling in love and experiencing that joy themselves, he’d be satisfied. Even though his hands would twitch for a weapon, despite how difficult he'd find sitting still, it would be a good life. Rest could be pleasant, he can concede that.

With Felix by his side at least, hands intertwined, Dimitri thinks he could learn to settle into that happy ending.