Work Text:
A year has passed since Felix last set foot in Fhirdiad. Since the man he once called boar became a King. Since he received said King’s blessing to take Annette’s hand in marriage.
Since he’s learned how a heart can belong to two.
Felix has Annette to thank for this recent trip. She insisted upon it; partly to fulfill her own desire for nostalgia but also because Felix has learned her heart can belong to two as well.
They’re quite fortunate that the person their hearts yearn for outside the marriage just so happens to be the same man.
They sit in the carriage, wobbling to and fro upon the uneven cobblestone. Annette’s face is plastered against the small pane of glass at the door.
“Oh, we’re getting close! I hope that one bakery is still open. They used to make the yummiest sweets when I lived here. I hope they were able to rebuild the shop after the war.”
Felix merely nods, staring out at the groups of people backing away as the carriage pulls forward. Some stop to bow, others turn without any acknowledgement of who could be inside. Not like Felix cares. He has never cared much for the decorum and deference afforded to him as a noble. He’d much rather his worth be determined by strength on the battlefield.
But those days are long over. As Duke, he is busy with meetings and visits to villages within Fraldarius territory. Tending to the needs of the lower lords upon his lands, ensuring that his people have enough food to get them through the winter. As the King’s advisor, he has other important duties, the thought of which sends a grumble to his lips. He covers his mouth quickly, muting the sound within his glove, but Annette still manages to hear it.
“Felix?” She shuffles towards him, her voluminous skirts brushing against his leg. “It’s still on your mind, isn’t it?”
He sighs, tossing his head back and shutting his eyes tight. “Of course it is. It’s why we’re going all the way out to Fhirdiad in the first place, isn’t it?”
She laughs softly and grabs his hand, the glint of her wedding band catching his eye. It only serves to cause the sour pit in his stomach to grow.
“I know,” Annette says, resting her head on Felix’s shoulder. She squeezes his hand and hums a soft tune before speaking once more. “It’s a good thing, you know. Making sure that the King has made a proper match. That this woman is fit to become Queen.”
That’s why Duke Fraldarius is attending court in Fhirdiad today, but not why the man Felix is. Ever since the rumors first traveled to Fraldarius, Felix has been beside himself with irritation. He’s been spending late nights in the training yard, trying to distract his mind, yet his form stays inconsistent, proof of how deeply it’s been affecting him. Even the sound of Annette’s songs have been rubbing him the wrong way.
Dimitri, to be married…
He grumbles again but squeezes Annette’s hand in return. “Y-yeah,” is all he can manage to say before the carriage comes to a complete stop at the Palace steps. Their footman opens the door, guiding Annette out onto the stone steps before Felix gets out, stepping up to Dedue in all his gilded splendor.
Dedue nods to Felix, accepting Annette’s hand for a light kiss, before he clears his throat. “His Majesty is not yet ready to see you,” he declares. “He asks for your patience and grace while he finishes preparations for your visit.”
Felix almost sighs with relief; he’s not ready either.
“How much longer will he take?”
Dedue smiles. “Not long, perhaps half an hour. Please, take your time within the Market. I’m sure when you have finished browsing the stalls, His Majesty will be ready.”
Felix nods and takes Annette’s arm in his, guiding her in the opposite direction of the Palace.
There’s a pleasant buzz among the streets, one that sends a soft beat of calm through Felix’s mind. Annette tugs at his arm as they walk closer to the market, a hint of nostalgic joy in her tone.
“Oh, Mr. Braonan is still in business! He made the best meat pies back when I attended the School of Sorcery. You would love them, Felix.”
Felix notes the portly man at the first corner stall, the savory scent of meat and spices hitting his nose. Mr. Braonan has a thick mop of curly gray hair, the stubble on his chin showing he could have truly worked a mustache back in the day. And perhaps he had, as the scent tickles a memory in Felix, one where he shared a meat pie between Glenn and himself. He didn’t often attend the Market when he was a child, spending most of his time on the Palace grounds during his visits to Fhirdiad, but there were a few times when his father would venture out to converse with the common folk.
Annette trots over to the pie stand, instantly chatting up Mr. Braonan and asking about his family. Felix sees the way his expression falls, how his smile becomes forced.
“Things haven’t been the same since my youngest died during the war,” he says, making a careful glance in Felix’s direction, “though I thank the Goddess and His Majesty every day for ending it when they did.”
Felix swallows thickly, glancing away to distract himself with other business about the streets; there’s a healthy crowd forming within the Market, but every so often, Felix catches a woman with a limp, a man with a nasty gash across his face. There are some empty stalls, businesses yet to reopen or perhaps never to open again.
He can never forget the effects of war, how it makes itself known no matter where he travels. It’s even more important that he helps Dimitri ensure that Faerghus and all of Fódlan remain strong.
“Thank you so much,” Annette says, breaking Felix’s train of thought. She’s holding two hand pies in her delicate palms and Felix watches as a drip of red juice threatens to stain her stark white gloves.
He makes quick work to snatch them both from her, giving a thankful nod to Mr. Braonan and turning the two of them into another direction.
In one bite, Felix can attest to Mr. Braonan’s skill as a cook. He’s thankful his mouth is full, otherwise he knows Annette would tease him for the sounds he surely would be making. Regardless, she can see it on his face and giggles as she tugs on his arm.
“Good right?”
Startled, Felix nods, remembering he’s still holding onto Annette’s and hands the less drippy pie over to her. She takes a bite and stops in her tracks, closing her eyes and chewing thoughtfully.
“It’s that hint of clove,” she says, a dribble of juice careening down her chin. “It really brings out the sweetness of the meat. I’ve tried replicating his recipes before, but…”
Felix laughs as he finishes his pie in one bite. “I can only imagine how disastrous those turned out.”
Annette yelps and starts pounding at Felix’s arm, but his laughter doesn’t relent. He leans down to kiss the bit of pink juice from her lips. She stops immediately, her face a brilliant shade of pink.
After a moment, Annette collects herself, finishing her pie in silence.
“I don’t know if you heard,” she says after a few quiet steps down the road. “Mr. Braonan said my favorite bakery closed during the war. The owners took ill during those years, and…”
Felix wraps his arm around Annette, taking a firm hold of her far shoulder and holding her tight. “Yeah,” he chokes out. He feels her body quiver in his hold; knowing Annette, she probably knew the entire family.
It never gets any easier.
Felix and Annette are shaken from their somber moment when the bells to the Palace start ringing, causing a stir among the people shopping within the Market. But Felix knows that bell; it’s not the hourly bell, but one with a specific chime that tells a very particular audience one thing:
The King is ready.
Dedue guides Annette and Felix into the Palace, weaving through corridors towards the King’s private chambers. Annette tells him of the meat pie throughout the trip and Felix can see the slight curve in Dedue’s smile that he’ll most likely taste them for himself. Felix makes a silent bet to himself that Dedue’s version of the recipe could be even more delicious than the original.
Soon, they arrive at their destination, except instead of being met by sternly faced guards at either side of Dimitri’s door, they are met by Dimitri himself. Dressed plainly and comfortably, and yet Felix can count the rings under his eye; he’s overworking himself.
“Felix, Annette, I’m so glad to see you,” Dimitri says, arms stretched out as if anticipating an embrace.
Instead, Annette offers a clumsy curtsey that causes Dimitri’s smile to falter for a moment.
“And we are pleased to see you, Your Majesty.”
Felix sighs; this is the woman who shared a kiss with Dimitri during wartimes? He steps forward, also not accepting Dimitri’s offer of a hug. “You look tired, boar. Are you getting enough sleep?”
Dedue clears his throat behind them and Dimitri’s look turns solemn; seems to be a common topic within the Palace.
“I’ve had tea prepared in my room. Please, come in,” Dimitri steps aside, ignoring Felix’s question to usher them into the room. Once behind closed doors, Annette leaps into Dimitri’s arms, giggling as he twirls her around, though his eyes are wide in surprise.
“So that was all for show out there, huh?”
“Duh, Felix, we’re in his private quarters now.” She looks up at Dimitri once her feet return to the ground. “It’s good to see you, Dimitri.”
Dimitri laughs, a slight flush of pink to his cheeks, and walks towards a table by the fireplace, already set for tea. The first room of the King’s quarters is a modest salon; it’s a room Felix has never seen before, but it offers a quiet living space for the King to entertain guests.
Felix shrugs off his cloak and hangs it on one of the hooks by the door before taking Annette’s and escorting her to the table. The precedent for the afternoon has already become tense, but Felix relaxes as the scent of a four-spice blend hits his nose.
“Oh, Dimitri, you’ve prepared our favorites,” Annette says, cradling her cup close to her nose. Felix catches the slight scent of rose petals before she takes a tiny sip.
“I wanted you both to be comfortable.” Dimitri sips his tea, long and leisurely before setting his cup down. “I trust you had an easy journey out here?”
Felix grumbles; he hasn’t touched his tea and for all he’s concerned, he doesn’t intend to, despite the allure of its fragrance. He crosses his arms and sits back in his chair, until the front two legs nearly lift from the ground.
“Is that all you’re going to offer? Small talk?”
An uncomfortable din of silence rings throughout the room. Dimitri’s hand shakes as it holds his cup. “Felix?”
“I’m not here to play games, boar. I want to know the truth about these rumors. About this betrothal of yours.”
Annette makes an uncomfortable throat clear, reaching her hand out to rest on Felix’s arm. “Felix, is it really time to bring this up?”
“Yes,” Felix barks out, his gaze never once wavering from his target. “I need to know the truth.”
Dimitri sighs and sits back in his seat, the chair legs slightly dragging over the stone. “My betrothal, you say.”
“To a daughter of some Leicester house is the rumor that’s made its way to Fraldarius.” Felix forgets the name. He’s certain they didn’t attend the academy with such a woman, but then again, his focus during his school days was limited to honing his skills with the sword. He keeps his gaze deliberate, studying Dimitri like a hawk about to swoop for its prey.
“It’s true, I…”
Felix stands up, nearly knocking his chair down in the process. “A duel,” he says, voice clear and loud, echoing against the stone. “Now.”
Both Dimitri and Annette stare up at Felix with wide eyes, mouths open agape. A brief thought comes to Felix, of closing those mouths with his own lips. Instead, he shakes the distraction from his mind to grab the pair of swords at his hip, tossing one in Dimitri’s direction as he steps out into the open space of the salon.
“F-felix, I don’t understand, why…?”
“You’re not being honest with yourself,” Felix says, unsheathing his sword and readying his stance. “Or with us.”
Dimitri’s brow creases downward and Felix is content to have struck a nerve; good. Let some heat run through the boar’s veins. Let him realize this mistake of accepting a proposal without the consultation of his most trusted advisor. There’s another ache in Felix’s chest that he chooses to ignore as he takes in a deep breath, watching Dimitri’s motions carefully as he steps several feet across from him.
“If you wish to spar with me, we should take this down to the training yard.” Dimitri stands straight, holding his sheathed sword in his non-dominant hand.
Felix’s nostrils flare; Dimitri’s not taking this seriously. Felix steps forward, brandishing his sword for an attack which forces Dimitri’s sword out of its sheath and into a parry.
“This won’t take long, boar.” Felix’s voice is low and dark. He goes for another attack and another, watching as Dimitri shifts between parries until he’s blocked into a corner.
“F-felix, wait!! Let him speak!” Annette cries out from behind, the tea tray at the table rattling as she gets up from her seat. “He hasn’t…”
Another clash of swords until Felix aims for Dimitri’s blindspot. Dimitri winces, dropping the sword to the ground. He’s in the back corner of the room, hands raised at either side of his head, the tip of Felix’s sword drawn to the center of his chest.
“I yield,” he chokes out, a small bead of sweat forming at his brow.
Felix’s lip trembles; that was far too quick for his liking. He sheathes his sword and bends down to pick up the one fallen to the floor. As he rises, he turns on his heel to stomp out of the salon.
“We’re leaving,” he calls out to Annette at the door, but he’s met with nothing but silence. Not even Annette’s footsteps follow him.
He turns around to find Annette at Dimitri’s side, escorting him back to the tea table. She shoots a disappointed look at Felix, her lips pursed in a pout.
“You didn’t even let him speak, Felix,” she says, keeping a firm hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. “You don’t even know if he accepted the proposal.”
Felix feels his breath knocked from his body, words unable to form. “But he said…”
“What I was going to say,” Dimitri starts, voice a little more stern, a little more hurt, “is that I have merely received this rumored proposal. But I have not yet accepted it. In fact…”
Dimitri looks up, and Felix hates how his expression matches Annette’s.
“I intend on rejecting this marriage proposal.”
A thick lump begins to grow in Felix’s throat; he wasn’t expecting that answer. Felix’s mind can only think of one response. “You…you can’t do that, you’re the King! It’s your duty to find a Queen and produce an heir!”
Dimitri sighs loud enough to fill the room. “Honestly, Felix, make up your mind. Do you want me to accept this proposal or not?”
Felix doesn’t respond, not verbally, at least. He still stands at the far end of the room, close to the door. Heaving breaths lift his chest, his own anxieties causing it to flutter back to neutral. His eyes scan between Annette and Dimitri, at how tenderly she holds his hand, how gently he leans into her touch.
Perhaps she should be his Queen…
Felix sighs, unsure of what to say, but before he gets the chance, Dimitri stands. He still holds Annette’s hand, and Felix can see how much he’s shaking.
“I’ve been corresponding with Annette recently…”
Felix begins to shake at Dimitri’s words; maybe she will be his Queen. It’s a much more impressive title than Duchess.
“And she’s helped me come to terms with a lot of my feelings. She’s helped me through some of my doubts and fears in coming to terms with this.”
Dimitri drops his head, yet takes to steps forward. Felix finds himself drawn in magnetically, somehow, despite the tension welling in his chest.
“And?” Felix chokes out the word as it cracks on his voice.
Dimitri smiles as he looks up, the blue in his eye warm and tender. Able to melt a man at the precipice of an epiphany.
“I wish not to take a Queen when I can spend my life with you at my side, Felix.”
Felix breathes out, unaware of how long he had been holding his breath.
“Me?”
“Yes,” Dimitri says in a laugh, completing his journey and meeting Felix at the center of the room. “And Annette, if you wouldn’t mind involving me in your marriage bed.”
Annette laughs softly from behind Dimitri as she trots over to Felix’s side. She hangs on Felix’s arm as Dimitri takes his hand.
“It’s a little unconventional,” Annette says, her tone cheery, “but this is a new Faerghus and Dimitri’s going to be a King that breaks tradition!”
Dimitri blushes a bit at Annette’s words and all Felix wants to do is kiss him senseless. Felix’s feet move on their own volition, pressing up on his toes until his lips meet Dimitri’s without thought. Dimitri gasps in response, his hand squeezing Felix’s fingers. After a breath, he returns the kiss.
Felix never thought he’d reach this moment. And yet here he is, his wife at his side, giggling with glee, as he shares a kiss with Dimitri. His lover.
His wife’s lover.
They part, Felix’s vision a little blurry, as Annette reaches for his cheek to turn him down for another kiss. She hums against his lips and parts, welcoming Felix with a wide smile.
“Well, Felix?”
He looks between the two of them, their disappointment from earlier having faded to pure love. He nods, still a little lost for words, and Dimitri welcomes the three of them in a hug.
A moment where titles and standards mean nothing and they can enjoy one another’s presence. Together.