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Goddess, someone would think the goddess herself was going to divide the clouds, descend from the heavens, and personally bless Faerghus with fertile land with the way the king was pacing around his throne room. His feet were restless, needing to burn off this extra nervous energy jittering in his bones.
The clink-clink-clink of his armor bounced off the walls, ringing in Dimitri’s ears and somewhat succeeding in distracting him from his disjointed thoughts. Each step brought a different worry to his crowded mind.
His subjects. The coming winter. Talks with the Alliance. Council with the new leaders of Duscur. Yuri.
Yuri.
His ears burned and his feet stepped up their pace. That man should be the most trivial of his worries, and yet, the thought of seeing the former Ashen Wolf brought him heart palpitations and an uncomfortable tightness. Even though Dimitri was the one who invited the man to give him counsel (he honestly had expected Yuri to decline), he was regretting it all the same. Fretting over his appearance, practicing what he would say. He even used that scented soap Hapi had told him Yuri liked, which had drawn a snarky aside from Felix.
Dimitri blew a big puff of hair out his nostrils and roughly rubbed his hand over his face. War he could deal with. Insurrection he could deal with. Assassinations he could handle. But a crush on the smartest, most cunning, most beautiful, confident man in Fodlan? Impossible.
When he had first met Yuri back after the whole debacle with Aelfric, he had assumed the feelings he felt towards the rogue were those of admiration and jealousy. That if he were not heir to the Faerghian throne, he would aspire to be like him. Well, until he started having vivid dreams of Yuri stealing him away from some duty or other, pushing him against a wall, sharp eyes glaring into him underneath long eyelashes, and shoving his tongue down his throat-
Dimitri shoved his face in his hands, steam practically flying out of his head. It wasn’t as if anyone could read his thoughts, but just knowing that he was imagining some vicious gangster having his way with him had him praying for forgiveness. Goddess, if someone were to see him acting like some schoolboy.
"Love what you've done to the place."
A yelp flew from his mouth.
It took only seconds for Dimitri to realize there was someone behind, someone’s lips brushing his ears. He spun quickly on his heels, instinctively bracing his body for a fight, making a wide sweep, his cape whapping a smirking Yuri in the face.
“Watch where you whip that thing, I just got my hair in order.”
Dimitri practically melted into a puddle on the floor. “Y-yuri!” He managed to squeak out. “Y-you’re, uh, here early….”
Yuri took a step back, brushing imaginary dirt from his uniform and combing a few fingers through loose locks. He looked past Dimitri’s left, then right shoulders. “You know I could have assassinated you.” His tone sounded amused. Matter-of-fact. “Where’s your shadow?”
Dimitri’s mouth slanted, a bit peeved at the jape towards Dedue. “He has other matters to attend to, but, Yuri. You do know I trust you.”
“Hmm, be careful there, friend. Trust is a strong word,” Yuri chuckled, but his levity swiftly replaced by a sigh. “But I do wonder if there is anyone alive who exists without a shadow.”
“You’re worried about me,” Dimitri teased, secretly flattered and giddy that Yuri thinks about him.
“Not worried. More like incredulous that our king lives in some fantasy land devoid of danger.”
Dimitri truly did miss that mouth of his. It wasn't as if he didn't get an earful from Felix on a semi-daily basis (‘solid-gold fool’ was slowly becoming a favorite), but the timbre of Yuri’s voice added this voluptuous weight to his words Dimitri wouldn’t mind being berated with. Slap yourself right now, harlot he thought, trying to bring his attention back to reality.
Yuri had vanished from his side, steps echoing somewhere off to the side. Dimitri shuffled over like a lost child ashamed to have lost sight of his mom, trailing behind the rogue as he inspected the room.
“To be honest, Dimitri, it’s weird calling you king. Well, not that I actually call you that, but still, to think this is your life. What you live in.” He walked around the perimeter of the room, looking at the portraits lining the walls, wrinkling his nose at the sparse decor. The room was basically barren, the only thing regal about the throne room being the immense size of it. “Waste of a room,” Yuri uttered under his breath.
“Is everything about your visit to be a criticism?” Dimitri chuckled, not particularly ruffled by his friend’s bluntness. “I had hoped to catch up.”
“I suppose I’ve been rude. How have you been?”
"It’s been busy. I don’t believe I can remember a time where I’ve had a moment to breathe. Many days I find myself longing for the simple days at the academy. I’ve missed you. T-That is to say, I mean, I missed everyone. Equally. Not just you."
Yuri raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Charming, but not what I meant. How’s politics? Playing nice I hope?” Dimitri sighed, disappointed the niceties were over with. He wasn’t ready.
“I suppose that is what we were meant to talk about.”
“Remind me, you did call me here to talk shop and not for idle flirting, right?”
“Mm, yeah, er, yes, I…Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable to talk.” Dimitri fumbled over his words, cursing silently that his awkwardness was too hard to hide. This would be one hell of an afternoon.
“I dearly hope that was an invitation to the royal bedchambers.”
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The council room honestly felt like a smaller, more contained version of the throne room, with less paintings and more weapons and war regalia. There was a huge chair at the end of the long rectangular table Yuri surmised was meant for the king, yet, Dimitri had just opted for the two closest chairs nearest the door.
“You’d think the king could spring for some more comfortable chairs.”
“You’ll survive, Yuri,” Dimitri stated simply, scrunching his eyebrows, an exasperated look on his face.
“Well, let’s get started before my butt falls off. I’m only here because you asked me to be. What matters could dear old Felix not help our king solve?” The chair Yuri had been sitting in creaked when he got up and opted to lean against the table, his posture relaxing.
Dimitri weighed whether he should do the same before deciding he wouldn’t look nearly as put-together as an underground gang leader. “I need someone who didn’t grow up a noble, someone who doesn’t know only of higher society problems. Someone who’s lived on the streets beyond the castle.”
“Saying ‘a commoner’ would’ve saved you some breath.”
“Alright then. I need a commoner’s perspective.” Dimitri scanned Yuri’s face for any indignation, but found none. Just the same calculating coolness.
“Why did you choose me and not, say, our favorite reformed thief? Or how about you just ask your people? Shouldn’t you be asking them instead of someone who tricked his way into nobility? I’m sure their experiences are quite different from mine.”
Yuri had a point and Dimitri had absolutely no argument to back him up besides I have a super huge crush on you and I wanted to be in a room alone with you and maybe confess my feelings for you and kiss you and-
Instead, he said: “Yuri, I need to make changes to our system. It has taken Faerghus…no. It has taken me too long to implement any meaningful reform, but I don’t have the life experience to make decisions that I’m positive will improve the lives of even the lowest caste member. I need help.”
Yuri chewed his lip, tapping his heel on the ground, making a show of pondering Dimitri’s request, though he already knew the answer.
“I love making the nobility grovel, though it’s not as fun when I’m not getting paid. However, for you, I’ll make an exception.”
“Thank yo-”
"But,” Yuri held up a finger, commanding silence, “listen closely, savior king. Revolutions weren't built solely on non-violence. Don’t expect a future not stained with blood.”
" No . No killing." Dimitri hissed between clenched teeth, nostrils flaring. He noticed his friend glancing down and he realized there was a small, cracked crater underneath a fist he hadn’t realized he’d clenched. He yanked his hand from the table, flustered. Yuri's features went through a variety of stages before softening.
"Ok, I won’t push you to do things you don’t want to do. But leave your options open. Don't be surprised if some citizens feel compelled to do," he waved his wrist as if trying to catch the elusive word mid-air, "something."
“Do we have to hurt people?” Dimitri shifted in his chair, restless. This wasn’t going the way he thought it would, though, he was obviously the fool for thinking he wouldn’t be challenged.
“It’s not all hurting people. Education would be the first step. But, hey, change isn’t easy. It’s one part resistance, one part diplomacy. Mm, not really, cause the nobles definitely won’t be winning.”
Dimitri huffed and raised a dubious eyebrow. "What, pray tell, might you know about diplomacy?"
"Oh, come now Dima, you know my tongue can get me out of any situation."
He gagged. No amount of brisk, freezing wind could chill the heat boiling in his skin. His eye began to twitch and, oh no, now he couldn’t stop thinking of Yuri between his legs, smug mouth wrapped around his-
“I-I-I….” Dimitri stuttered, his tongue getting twisted in his throat.
"Stop blubbering will you? It was a joke. I happen to be quite well versed in having things go my way." Yuri’s pretty lips peeled back to reveal a wolfish smirk. Dimitri quickly wondered if Yuri’s teeth were sharp and what they’d feel like on his neck.
“I-if you say so.”
“You’re kinda cute, Dimitri. You’ve got that innocent, little virgin boy charm going for you. Could be useful if you know what I mean.”
Dimitri was going to open his mouth to rebuke that he was, in fact, not a virgin and that he had no interest in seducing anyone, but decided it wouldn’t matter because Yuri would just tease him about that too. Plus, he’d be lying if he wasn’t trying to seduce Yuri with his political savvy. He kept his mouth shut.
“You need to stop looking for solutions with the Faerghus nobility. The only thing they’re good for is having deep pockets. Money talks and bullying works."
“What an apt saying,” Dimitri mumbles into his shoulder, attempting to hide a laugh. “Do you have an appropriate saying for when the nobility pushes higher taxes on their subjects in an attempt to push the responsibility onto them?”
Yuri opened his mouth, but quickly shut it, ruminating for a minute. Dimitri mentally pumped his fist, smug at having seemingly bested the man. 10 cool points for him.
“Dismantle the nobility and spread the wealth among the people. Though, I guess that’d put you out of a job, hm?”
“That’s no good. It would incite the nobility and cause further civil disrest. We’re not stable enough to force them to pay for everything.”
Yuri narrowed his eyes in thought again. “You’re not gonna care much for what I’m about to say, and even though I may come from a pious household..” He trailed off, reveling in the interested silence he left behind, waiting for the appropriate moment to say:
“Use the church.”
Dimitri looked confused. “The church already helps us in a myriad of ways, what more could we ask of them?”
“You misunderstand, friend. I mean use them.”
“Blasphemy!” Dimitri’s frown lines grew deeper listening to the giggles coming from the lavender-haired man.
“I don’t ever recall you being the most pious student of the bunch. Do you even pray before brushing your teeth?”
“Hilarious. But this is hardly a matter of whether or not I believe in the teachings of Seiros. This has more to do with Faerghus’s relationship with the church. Our country owes a lot to them.”
“Can someone really owe a church?” Dimitri could tell that Yuri’s patience with this topic was wearing thin. His neutral face had returned.
“They’re the foundation that Faerghus was built upon. They legitimize my right on this throne. They provided protections and help to our people in times of need. I don’t particularly think we can just turn our shoulders on them. What would that say about me?”
“For one thing, your system is heavily flawed. You don’t need Rhea and them to tell you who can rule your kingdom. Nobody has a ‘right’ to lead a nation, so think about that. Second: no debt is lifetime, your princeliness. Don’t let anyone hold that over you.”
“What about my debt to society? I owe my country for who I am today and the people deserve a king who puts them first.” Dimitri looked to one of the windows, the faint sounds of outside life drifting across the wind. He wondered if the voices of the people living on the lower streets could be heard from where he sits too.
Yuri didn’t look too impressed. "That leads me to point number three: You have all the power to do what you say you WANT to do, yet you'd rather twiddle your thumbs and be respectable to people who don't care what you do and who you are. The marginalized should be the ones you put first."
“I just don’t see how you expect me to do away with nobility and the church, while also wanting to use their money,” he muttered.
“You’re right. Keep both for now. Use the church and make use of my various connections to nobles across the continent. If the church is going to dip their meddling hands into our affairs, they might as well expect their hands to get wet.”
Yuri was more ambitious than he was. Yuri was seeing all the steps in front of him, any avenue of opportunity. Dimitri was stuck fumbling to put together the pieces. He was right. So why was Dimitri so compelled to find the middle ground?
“I can't afford to step on any toes.”
“Well, it pays the bills, so.”
The conversation died off. Dimitri took the time to look at Yuri. He managed to always have an air of being on top of things, having the largest presence in any room. It was impossible not to gravitate towards him, to want to be close to him. Tell him things.
"Your confidence is astounding. I mean no offense."
“Yes, well, it doesn't come from being fed from a gilded spoon and bleeding the good blue blood. It’s earned. Although,” Yuri's eyes knowingly linger over scars hidden away by obsidian armor, traces of healed skin on his neck, before landing on the obvious black eyepatch, “I suppose you've had your share of hardships, too."
The smile that crossed Dimitri’s lips was thin, devoid of any particular feeling. “Maybe you should be king, Yuri.”
“‘King’ doesn’t have the same kind of magic as ‘Mockingbird’. Plus, I might be wrong, but I think it’s a little too late to just pawn your responsibilities off on your friend trying to help you out of your own mess.”
“Sorry, sorry, that was irresponsible of me to say. I meant it in jest.” Yuri remained unamused and Dimitri blushed. “Ok, maybe I was a bit serious. It’s just….a part of me wishes I could be you.” He found himself looking at his friend’s eyes again, wondering what he was thinking. Did he look pathetic to him?
“I don’t think you could handle being me.”
“Probably not. I fear disappointing people and being powerless to right the wrongs in this world that were never mine to begin with. You’re able to bend it to your will, to steer a clear path with little hesitation. I’m not ready for that type of freedom. My life isn’t my own, it’s for my people. Who am I to decide what I want to do? I need to be who they need me to be. And I can’t even do that well. I’m-”
His rant was broken by a long, drawn out groan and impatient foot tapping. Yuri’s tone made it clear he was annoyed, but his eyebrows were drawn upwards.
“Ugh, I’m only going to say this because I’m getting tired of all the self-deprecation poisoning my ears. Look, Dima.” Dimitri’s ears perked up, burning red at the nickname. “You’re probably the most naive noble I’ve ever met, but I can’t say I’m not glad I met you.” Dimitri couldn’t help chuckling and Yuri closed his eyes and smiled, continuing: “You actually care about others and your feelings are so genuine it’s hard not to feel hope when you speak. With you, it truly does feel like you’ll fulfill your promises. You make sure people aren’t getting hurt. Don’t try to be me. You’re the best you. And you’re cute, so there’s that.”
Cute. Handsome, yes. Masculine, sure. But, cute? He liked how soft it sounded on him. He hung his head, blushing, suddenly bashful. “You think I’m cute?”
“That’s what you zeroed in on? Not anything else I said?”
Yuri’s eyes locked onto Dimitri’s, bright and relaxed. He was having fun. Dimitri’s heart beat against his ribcage. He didn’t want their meeting to end. He didn’t want this to end.
"I'd, uh, probably need someone to help with future matters regarding these plans,” Dimitri spoke slowly so as to not fumble his words or let on his true intentions. It was purely business.
“Doesn’t Felix hold that job, or are you asking me to take his place? Can’t really say I appreciate being demoted to the position of shield.”
“I was not asking you to-” Dimitri quirked an eyebrow. “Hold on. ‘Demoted?’”
Yuri’s hand flew up to his chest, clutching his shirt into his palm. He laid his head on his shoulder, the back of his other hand pressed to his forehead in a dramatic, mock display of hurt and outrage. "So you haven't been reading my letters? And here I was, wasting ink thinking I, the King of Faerghus's paramour,” he gasped loudly,
Paramour? Dimitri’s head spun, desperately trying to remember any alternate definitions of the word, only ever landing on the one.
“Yuri, I’m trying to be serious here! I don’t appreciate having my feelings toyed with.”
“Why are you under the assumption I’m not being serious? Is it so unthinkable that I might actually like you?” Dimitri could tell he had actually annoyed Yuri.
“You’re just always so flippant. And since when have we been courting?”
Yuri rolled his eyes, pushing himself off from the table. He sauntered over and in one swift movement, swung a leg over Dimitri’s waist to straddle him, hands gripping broad shoulders for balance. Yuri grinned.
"Since now.”
The Mockingbird leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Dimitri’s lips, just a peck, before fully committing and embracing him. Dimitri panicked, unsure whether to close his eye or keep it open. His hands felt frozen at his sides and his mind was pulling him in different directions, thinking about how soft Yuri felt, how nice he smelled, how good he tasted. His hands finally found purchase on Yuri’s waist, squeezing and pulling him closer, which earned him a surprise moan. Goddess.
Yuri pushed off of Dimitri and sauntered towards the door, hips swaying, winking over his shoulder. “Now, how about the “savior king” show his guest some of that good ol' Faerghus hospitality and take him on a date about town, hm?"
The king, still in a momentary state of shock, was trying to collect himself. "But we aren’t even done…There’s still…I scheduled other meetings today with…"
“With me. I won’t say it again.”
Yuri wrapped his arm around Dimitri’s bicep and let loose a cackle, relishing in the deep crimson blush that rose up from the blonde man’s neck. He leaned up, lips once again pressing into the king’s ear.
“I’ve always known how you feel about me. How you’ve been thinking about me. You don’t hide it very well.”
Yuri contemplated teasing Dimitri a bit more, just to hear him squeak like that again (perhaps a touch here, or a squeeze there, and it would be easy enough to surprise him with a smack to the rear), but decided to play nice.
He didn’t want to mess up a chance to marry this doofus.