IT'S ALL A BIT TRAGIC, ISN'T IT?

     it was a mild day in fhirdiad, which means, by ferdinand’s standards, a cold and dreary one. despite his time here, he’s still used to the empire’s lush, green trees and that familiar warm breeze dancing off of the sea; the smell of salt and wine in the air, looking up to see blue skies and pillowed clouds. the frigid, dead air of faergus differs greatly from that, along with its barren trees and grey skies and frost-covered land; everything he touches is cold, cold down to the bone. even in his quarters, with a crackling fireplace and freshly brewed tea and a blanket draped over his shoulders, there’s a shiver in his breath. there is but one saving grace for this frozen land; an anchor, a tether down into the snow.

     dimitri touches him and he doesn’t feel cold. he’s warm, warm down to his soul. dimitri is his sea breeze — his blue sky, his honey wine, his sweet green trees and white, white clouds. his kiss blazes a fire into his cold bones and thaws him all the way out, and ferdinand wants nothing more than to press harder into him, to feel that spark light a fire over his skin. but he takes what he’s given; the king’s soft and steady warmth is just as good as his blazing fire, and ferdinand snakes his arms around his waist as he feels it spread over him, encompassing their embrace in a kind, flickering glow. he feels every touch tingling on his skin well after dimitri’s placed it — the thumb across his jaw, the puff of his breath, the press of his lips across his skin. he shivers at it, steps into him, steps closer for more of that warmth.

     it’s unfair, really. how much his heart yearns.

     his words are just as electrifying as his touch — ferdinand’s cheeks burn red at his praise, at his quiet confession. salt pricks at his lashes, stinging but in the sweetest way; he’s overwhelmed by his gesture, this affection. it rattles him, it wakes him up from that cold slumber —- he drags a hand up from dimitri’s waist, along his chest, his neck, until his fingers curl in thick blond hair and hint to pull his head up, just a touch, so he can look him in the eye and feel his soul melt under the heat in dimitri’s gaze, the compassion that stirs there.

                            ❝  for you, always.  ❞

     and it’s the truth. for no matter how strong the nostalgia that ferdinand feels for the life he once knew and longed to have, that time has come and passed. this is where he is, now — this is the future that he’d dreamed of, and though it’s different, so very different from what he’d imagined as a boy, it is his. this future is his. this swollen heart, this new dawn, this mending soul that’s tethered to his own among the frozen tundra outside their door — it’s his.

     dimitri is his.

     it’s his turn now, to deliver on that promise — to tilt his head up and capture the blond in a kiss, firmer than his soft one, the fur of dimitri’s cape tickling his skin. his next words are spoken between kisses, pulled from his soul like a pearl from the deep.

     my friend, he calls him, and ferdinand feels his heart warm. all joking aside, it is nice to see dimitri in this light — to see more of his face, to see him smile, and to catch a flicker of the leader that the lion is destined to be: strong, compassionate, and firm but still kind. ferdinand’s grin will soften under the sweetness of it all, glad to see that the young king is listening to his people — to see him taking steps to take care of himself, after all he’s been through.

     ferdinand did not always feel welcome here —- always as though he has something to prove due to his… previous allegiances, always feeling like a bit of an outcast, tucked away on the outskirts and left to look in. but as time passes, that feeling fades away bit by bit, and baring witness to dimitri’s laugh further drives those phantom thoughts from his mind.  ( the laugh replays in his head, once or twice — he does not think he’s ever heard dimitri sound so carefree. even during their school days, he hadn’t witnessed such a thing. )

               ❝  truly, that is wonderful. i agree with whoever gave you that advice — you look very dashing, if i may say so!  ❞     he’ll say so, regardless of whether he can or cannot — it is ferdinand’s job to give advice, and to reassure and help guide the leaders around him. this is but a small step in the right direction, and he would like to ensure that there are many more.

( though, the darkness is still there. at the edge, a yawning abyss, threatening to drown him whole. he’s unsure if that will ever go away. )

instead, what he feels today, in the light; his heart is warm and full and overflowing. and, today, it seems ferdinand is the cause behind all of it. ( before dimitri took a step into the light, shook off the demons of the past and promised a new dawn  —  dimitri could hardly stand the sight of ferdinand, too much of a harsh reminder of her. the anger was still too strong, too feral, too raw. the distance between the two of them was chosen, unsure if he’d been able to hold himself back if ever left alone. ) 

dimitri’s smile comes so freely,  and he finds himself glad that ferdinand feels comfortable enough to come to him. to approach him as a friend would, as a friend should. there’s no hesitation to his words, they come naturally to him, and dimitri clings onto each and every one. it’s a reminder that he’s human, that he can be considered a friend. his heart thrums with pride, and he can’t help but find himself glad that he has him by his side. ( that, despite the past; he is given a second chance. )

It’s overwhelming—the emotions she can see, the emotions she can feel, foreign and strange but somehow so comforting. She knows of his strength and how capable he is with it, but it only makes her heart ache all the more at how he touches her: gently, gingerly, as if she were fragile and delicate and not some war-beaten oddity. Something about it all almost hurts, her eyes fluttered shut and a lump in her throat and the barest flush to her cheeks, and every touch of his lips leaves behind a tingle despite ( or because of? ) how lightly he presses. His words ( soft-spoken, half-whispered, so close she can feel his breath ghost her cheek ) only serve to further the weight in her chest and the heaviness of her tongue, all topped off with a gaze so loving that …                                      It’s scary, to feel so strongly—confusingly—and maybe it’s silly to be scared of something like this when she’s seen so much more, but Byleth can only blink her eyes open at him from under her lashes, gaze into the blue of his eye and feel the warmth of his person, breathe a silent oh that’s more like a quiet sigh.                   Her hand reaches up to one of his against her face, much too small to do much but rest on top of it, and a moment passes as she lets herself admire his features. Her heart feels as though it could burst at any moment, a desperate attempt to do something it never has in all her years of life, but it’s somehow a pleasant sort of squeeze ( and emotions are so weird, she thinks, to enjoy this feeling of something almost painful ). She looks and stares and she grips his hand just a bit harder before her eyes lid shut once more, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly—on the corner of his mouth, on his lips—before her own smile can’t be contained against them.                                     ( it’s scary, she thinks, but maybe a little wonderful and wondrous and something she looks forward to figuring out, together. )                  “Yours,” she agrees, barely pulling back enough to be able to utter the words, “and you, mine.                                                        I love you, Dimitri.” 

❝ so — does the eyepatch got a story or are ya going to a costume party? ❞