#ferdilix

All thoughts of dinner reservations and candlelit tables and soft conversations left Ferdinand’s mind. He circled the desk and put a hand to Felix’s shoulder, attention on the letter, mouth a grim line. “What has happened? Is Fhirdiad alright?”

Felix put a hand over Ferdinand’s. “Everything’s fine. Or, well, not totally fine, if he’s asking me this.”

“Asking you what?”

“He wants...” Felix’s hand flexed, fingers briefly digging into Ferdinand’s knuckles. “He wants me to go back.”

Ferdinand turned his gaze to Felix but Felix was staring resolutely at the desk. “For how long?” He asked, though he feared he knew the answer.

“Indefinitely.” Scowling, Felix picked up the paper again. “His advisors feel it’s my place as a Fraldarius to be at the king’s side. They’re protesting the ‘loss of tradition’, as they call it. Dimitri says he may be able to calm them down, but they make some good points. Some things may be easier for him if I resumed my work as Duke Fraldarius rather than an ambassador.”

Biting his lip against several arguments he could make-- that Felix was a wonderful ambassador, that the southern air agreed with him, that the Enbarr Aegir Estate would be lonely without him-- Ferdinand stepped back. 

“Your king is calling for you,” Ferdinand stated. His gaze moved to the window as he spoke, that sun-spotlight a mere memory.

He heard the paper rustle. “In a way, yeah,” Felix said.

“What will you do?”

Because as much as Ferdinand wanted to beg Felix to stay, it wasn’t his place. The war had tested everyone’s loyalty at one point or another. Ferdinand felt his bond with Edelgard was stronger because of it, not that he could ever match Hubert’s level of loyalty. 

No one could be told who to follow. Though every fiber of Ferdinand’s being wanted him to hold onto Felix and not let go, he could never stand between Felix and his King. The decision would have to be Felix’s-- unhindered.

“What do you think I should do?”

The question made Ferdinand’s eyes snap back to Felix, who, to Ferdinand’s surprise, was standing now. Standing only inches from Ferdinand, in fact. 

Ferdinand swallowed. “Well, you are always welcome here. Edelgard has never found a flaw in your work and you have been a... nice house guest.” Felix cocked his head at the lackluster word but didn’t interrupt. “That said, you have a responsibility as the lord of the Kingdom to aid your king when asked. You would also be closer to your own home. It would seem both doors are open to you.”

All that said, Ferdinand gestured at Felix himself. “I think you should follow your heart.”

Felix nodded. Then he turned away and rubbed a hand over his chin, making a sort of disgruntled noise. Ferdinand frowned. “Are you--”

“Follow my heart?” Felix repeated, back still to Ferdinand.

“Y-Yes? That is the best advice I can--”

“Ferdinand, I--” Felix put both hand over his face and cursed with such vitriol that Ferdinand could clearly hear the word anyway. Ferdinand tensed sure he had made some sort of misstep. 

Then Felix spun back around, scowling again. “Ferdinand, I want you to tell me to stay.”   

Ferdinand gaped for a moment. “You want me to-- Why?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Of course!” For Ferdinand could not hold back the floodgates any longer, especially not with so open an invitation. “Felix, you are my most treasured friend! Ever since you moved here, I have looked forward to our every conversation, training session, tea time, even bumping into each other in the palace! I would--” Here Ferdinand quieted his voice. His face colored as he said, “I would be devastated at the loss of you.” 

Felix nodded again. Then he grabbed Ferdinand by the perfectly straightened collar and kissed him. His lips were chapped, nose bumping Ferdinand’s awkwardly, shuffling close enough that he half stood on Ferdinand’s toes.

And yet it was perfect.

Ferdinand closed his eyes and brought a hand to that messy bun, pulling Felix ever closer. He wondered how they looked-- both lit by that morning sun, embracing as preparation for the Day of Devotion festival began in the city below, hands that had fought and healed one another finally catching and entwining fingers.

Felix pulled away first. Not surprising, as Ferdinand felt he could have done that forever. “I would rather devote myself to you then to tradition,” he said, voice a whisper against Ferdinand’s chin. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yes.” Ferdinand brushed their lips together. “It would be an honor.”

“Good.”

With that, Felix shoved Ferdinand away. “I have to write a reply. Don’t you have dinner to set up?” He sat heavily at his desk, grabbing a paper at random and spilling drops of ink when he dipped his quill. Head bent, Felix began to write. Or, at the very least, he hand moved across the paper.

Ferdinand nearly laughed. Apparently that was the end of Felix’s emotional vulnerability for the moment. “I do indeed,” Ferdinand said, watching Felix misspell Dimitri’s name at the top of the page.

“Good. Great. I’ll see you later.”

“Yes. Have a good morning, Felix.”

Ferdinand nearly made it to the door-- mind blissfully back on dinner reservations and candlelit tables and soft conversation-- when Felix called out, “No, wait.”

He turned to find Felix standing again, face positively pink, ink splattered over his right hand. “That was... rude.” He circled the desk to join Ferdinand at the door. “The letter can wait. Let’s get breakfast.”