Archive of Our Own ^beta

After several weeks cooped up in the capital, Felix finally has a mission that isn’t just paperwork or arguing with emissaries from every corner of the continent. It’s a relief to be out in the field again, even if it’s in the middle of nowhere in northeastern Faerghus.

Those Who Slither in the Dark, Agartha, the figures that haunted Fódlan for all five years of its war – Felix doesn’t particularly care what they’re called. All he cares about is rooting out the last of their influence to clear the way for Dimitri’s reign. Too much time indoors has left his bladework rusty, and he hopes for at least a little bit of resistance as they clear out the Agarthans’ old underground base.

Hapi, who is more qualified than most to navigate the complicated mechanisms of Agarthan structures, agreed to join him. She’s not bad company. She doesn’t prattle on about meaningless things, and she’s actually quite agreeable to talk to when they do stumble across a conversation topic, even if she insists on using the stupid nickname Sunshine.

The structure itself is built into a mountainside, entrance shielded by a copse of trees. It’s innocuous, but the sight of the brushed metal door still sends a trail of icy water trickling down Felix’s spine.

“Ugh,” Hapi says. “I hate the way their stuff looks. Let’s get this over with.”

The people who discovered the structure managed to pry the door open before calling for more qualified assistance. Felix squeezes through the gap in the twisted steel, unsheathing his sword as soon as he’s in the building itself; it’s silent and empty, so he beckons for Hapi to follow.

Lines of blue light flow along the upper part of the hallway, casting everything in an eerie, pale glow. Various everyday objects are scattered about, cutlery and books and decorations, like whoever was here left in a hurry and either dropped or knocked things over. Hall after hall, room after room – everything is completely silent and completely empty.

“Maybe it was just barracks,” Felix suggests as they poke their heads into another empty room. “A place for people to stay. Not much else.”

“Maybe,” Hapi says, sounding doubtful. They stop in front of a larger door, this one with the same blue lights of the hallway streaking through its solid surface. “Well, if there’s anything important, it’s probably here.”

To Felix’s surprise, the door isn’t locked; it groans and scrapes along the floor when he shoves at it, but it opens nonetheless. He takes a step inside – and stops.

It’s some kind of lab. Notes written in an indecipherable language litter the surfaces – diagrams, cross-sections, charts full of numbers, organized to the specifications of a chaotic mind. At first glance, there’s little to distinguish it from what Felix has seen of Linhardt or Hanneman’s labs, but the farther in he walks, the deeper the pit in his stomach gets.

Among the writing utensils and sheafs of notes and strange metal slates are jars of liquid with… things suspended in them. A finger in one, an eye in another, every jar labeled in that strange language. But worse than the jars are the bones.

They aren’t big enough to belong to adults. Laid out on trays, impersonal and clinical, are the skeletons of countless infants.

“Saints,” Felix whispers.

Each skeleton is labeled. Some are arranged in the shape of an infant body; others are just piles of tiny white bones. All of them have a number, though they don’t seem to be in any kind of numerical order Felix understands. 4. 16. 8. 9. 2. Some of the skeletons share their trays with little glass jars, small organs suspended in cloudy liquid.

“Sunshine?”

Hapi’s voice comes from outside the room, but Felix barely hears it. He’s looking at the thing at the end of the line of skeletons.

In a tube, suspended in some kind of bubbling liquid – a baby. A little boy, wispy blond hair floating in a halo around his head. The label at the bottom of the tube reads Subject 22.

Felix should probably hesitate. Consider the risks. The liquid could be hazardous, the baby could be dangerous, the baby could already be dead. But when he lays eyes on that child, helpless and tiny and surrounded by death, all he can do is act.

He at least has the presence of mind to search for a release switch before shattering the tube with his sword. A single press of a button drains the liquid in the tube, gently lowering the infant to the metal grate beneath him, and Felix scrambles to pry the lid off so he can retrieve the infant from inside.

Felix isn’t overly familiar with babies. He understands them more as a concept than anything else: small, nebulous almost-humans that can do very little except soil themselves and cry. And so he braces himself as he lifts the infant out of the tube – but the child does not make a sound. The child stares, wide-eyed, afraid, clumsily shifting his head to take in his surroundings, but he is completely and utterly silent.

Felix had been dreading holding a wailing infant. He doesn’t know what to do with babies when they’re well-behaved, let alone when they cry. But now more than anything, he wishes the silent, terrified child in his arms would cry, because seeing a child this young know enough about fear to stay quiet in the face of potential danger is doing terrible things to Felix’s heart.

“Is it alive?” Hapi asks cautiously from the door, clearly just as unsettled by the infant’s silence as Felix is.

“Yes,” Felix says. He shifts the child into what he thinks is a more comfortable position, resting his little head upright against his shoulder.

Hapi whistles lowly. “That’s a surprise,” she says. She picks her way into the lab, eyeing her surroundings with distaste.

Felix unclasps his cape and bundles it around the child’s bare body. He tucks the child’s head into the crook of his neck, like it will do anything to shield his eyes now. If he’s aware enough to know what the things in this room mean, he’s had more than enough time to take it all in.

“No one can know about this,” Felix says, voice shakier than he wants it to be. He’s seen and enacted violence on an objectively larger scale than this, but something about this – the cold, impersonal arrangement of tiny bodies, left on trays and in tubes and disassembled for parts – it’s beyond what he knows how to process.

“What are you going to do with…” Hapi trails off, her eyes on the squirming infant tucked against Felix’s chest.

There’s no way Hapi is suggesting that they get rid of the child. She wouldn’t. But Felix is defensive all the same, cupping a protective hand around the back of the infant’s head. “He won’t know about this either.”

“You’re… keeping it,” Hapi says. She eyes the baby with a mix of wariness and pity. “Are you sure? You don’t know what they did to it.”

“Him,” Felix says sharply. “He’s not an it.”

Hapi closes her eyes and purses her lips the way she does when she very desperately wants to sigh. “Look, it’s not like I don’t feel bad for him. I know better than anyone what it’s like to be stuck in a place like this.” She gestures at the room. “But that’s also why I know how dangerous he could be. They could have done anything to him, and you wouldn’t know until you’re getting munched on by a monster.”

“I don’t care.” Felix can fight monsters. Honestly, he’d welcome a fight with a monster at this point. It would be easier than trying to grapple with the reality of what happened in this small, dark room. “I refuse to blame him for whatever happened here.”

“It’s not about blame. It’s about safety,” Hapi says with exasperation.

“What do you suggest I do, then?” Felix snaps. “Shove him into Abyss where no one has to look at him, like the church did to you? Absolutely not. He’s staying with me.”

Hapi just stares at him, and for a moment, Felix thinks he’s gone too far – but then something in Hapi’s face softens. “I keep forgetting how much of a softie you are, Sunshine,” she finally says. “What are you going to tell everyone? That he grew from a cabbage patch?”

Felix’s mind skids to a halt. What is he going to tell everyone, if not the truth? The child has to be at least half a year old and looks nothing like Felix besides.

Many of the soldiers had… relieved their tension in taverns and brothels during the war campaign. Felix never had any interest in such things, but perhaps people could be convinced that he’d done it at least once, and it had resulted in… this?

“I’ll tell everyone that he’s my bastard,” Felix says. The idea of telling the truth – of burdening this child even further with the horrible truth of his origins, of seeing the same suspicion and fear in strangers’ faces that he saw in Hapi’s – is too much to bear.

Hapi chokes on a laugh. “A bastard,” she says. “You.”

Felix scowls. “Is it really so unbelievable?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Well, is it any less believable than what actually happened?” He gestures at the room.

“You have a point.” Hapi shrugs. “It’s not like anyone will have the guts to question it to your face. Sure, fine, congratulations on your newfound fatherhood.”

“Ugh. Shut up. Make yourself useful and collect some of those notes for Linhardt and Lysithea.”

“Mmhm.”

Hapi seems more relaxed now, but Felix doesn’t miss the wary way she keeps the child in her line of sight. Fine. That’s fair, even if Felix doesn’t agree with it. No matter what’s been done to the baby in his arms, Felix can deal with it.

It seems like the lab is the main purpose of the facility, because the rest of the rooms are either bedchambers, washrooms, or storage for myriad machines and supplies that Felix can’t even begin to imagine the uses for. He’s sure the building will be a treasure trove for people inclined to care about things like this. He’ll let them at it once they’ve confirmed it’s clear and safe.

It’s just as well that there’s not much else to see. The baby is still rigid and silent in Felix’s arms, but the longer they wander the dark halls, the tenser the child seems to get. He tucks his face into Felix’s chest and clings to Felix’s gambeson with all the strength in his tiny fists.

“It’s okay,” Felix mutters, tugging his cape’s hood up over the baby’s head. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Hapi to declare the facility safe for investigation by less well-armed individuals, and she and Felix both move faster than is probably necessary towards the exit. Felix may not have the same history with Agartha that Hapi does, but the place feels wrong.

“Didi just wanted us to make sure the place was safe for the researchers, right?” Hapi says as they loop around back towards the entrance. “We can go now?”

“His Majesty,” Felix says, emphasizing the title, “wanted us to clear out any remaining Agarthan soldiers and disarm any traps.”

“No traps, no Agarthans,” Hapi says. “Unless you count the little guy you’re holding as one of those. Or both.”

The baby is a little more relaxed with Felix’s cape swaddled around him. He’s even started to snuggle against Felix’s chest, curling into the warmth as he realizes Felix intends to protect him, not hurt him. Even if the baby is an elaborate trap set by the Agarthans, Felix doesn’t care.

“Let’s just leave,” he mutters.

“Even the baby agrees with that,” Hapi says, snorting at the way the baby shifts and waves a hand at the sunlight peeking through the wedged-open door. “Alright. Let’s go, Sunshine and Sunshine Jr.”

They fumble their way through buying basic supplies for the child in a small town on their way back to Fraldarius. A few outfits, cloth swaddles for diapers, goat’s milk that the town healer insists can only be a temporary measure and that they’ll need to find a proper wet nurse or an apothecary who can mix the correct formula. All the while, Felix has barely even heard the baby whimper, let alone cry like an infant is supposed to. He does shed tears, but they’re never accompanied by wailing. He makes soft noises in his sleep and he whines when Hapi holds him instead of Felix, but he is silent otherwise.

“Maybe they stole his voice,” Hapi suggests.

Felix bristles. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m just saying that he’s very quiet for a baby. Every baby I’ve ever met seemed like it cried for fun.”

“I doubt they were kind to him when he made noise,” Felix says. “It shows how smart he is that he learned to be quiet, even if he shouldn’t have had to.”

Hapi huffs out a laugh. “Oh, he’s smart, is he? You’re already talking like you’re his dad.”

“Ugh.” Felix busies himself with warming up a bottle of goat’s milk for the baby, who watches him with wide, excited eyes. He may not make much noise, but he certainly understands what food is and who it comes from.

They’re only stopping in Fraldarius for a night before moving on to the capital. Not long, but long enough that Felix will absolutely need to explain to his father why he has a baby. Hapi is far too amused for Felix’s liking, but she helps him workshop a basic story as they approach the Fraldarius estate, and she gives him a playful wave and mouths good luck when his father comes out to greet them.

“Felix, it warms me to see you return safely—ah,” Rodrigue stops himself mid-sentence. “Who’s this?”

“I had a tryst during the war,” Felix recites. “I didn’t think anything would come of it, but while Hapi and I were traveling, the woman confronted me and told me that our dalliance resulted in a child. She didn’t want him. I chose to take responsibility and take him in myself.”

“A… tryst,” his father echoes. “You.”

Felix swallows, hugging the child a little closer. “Yes.”

“…What was her name?” Rodrigue asks delicately.

“Does it matter?” Felix snaps. He can almost feel Hapi trying not to laugh next to him. “She doesn’t want anything to do with him, so I’m taking him in.”

At Felix’s raised voice, the child whines and squirms, swinging a chubby fist to hit Felix in the chest. A little panicky, Felix bounces him and coos, which somehow manages to soothe the baby before he can burst into tears.

Rodrigue, thankfully, is a soft-hearted fool, and the display immediately distracts him from his interrogation. “Goodness, he looks like a little Blaiddyd,” he says softly, leaning down to look at the child’s peaceful face. “What is his name?”

Felix freezes. A name. The child needs a name.

Subject 22 was the only name the laboratory gave him, and that’s something Felix left behind for him the moment he saw it. But what will his name be? Felix has never named anything but a friendly stray he used to feed at the monastery, and that name was just Cat. He can’t call a child Baby. Can he?

What names does he even know? Maybe he can say his ill-fated paramour named the kid Dimitri after the Savior King. But then Felix would have a son named Dimitri. Glenn? No, that would be even worse.

“Etienne,” he blurts out.

“Etienne,” Rodrigue repeats, pleasantly surprised. “I suppose she enjoyed the same sorts of books you did as a child.”

“We already knew tales of chivalry are disgustingly popular,” Felix says derisively, like he wasn’t the one who came up with the name mere moments ago. Etienne is the name of a knight from Felix’s favorite childhood story – the one he would make Glenn read to him over and over every night before bed.

(It was one of Dimitri’s favorites, too. When he and Felix were still small enough to share a bed without raising any eyebrows, they’d snuggle up together under the covers and listen to Glenn read aloud with wide, sparkling eyes, gasping and cheering and ducking beneath the covers at every twist and turn like it was their first time hearing the story.)

(Looking at his own Etienne’s face, at the way his wispy blond hair frames his bright blue eyes, Felix doesn’t want to examine why he pulled from those warm memories of Dimitri to produce a name.)

“Hello, Etienne,” Rodrigue says, impossibly gentle. He offers his finger to the baby – to Etienne – who eyes it suspiciously and burrows closer to Felix.

“He’s… shy,” Felix says at the slight frown on his father’s face.

“Doesn’t even let me hold him,” Hapi chimes in. “Anyway, I’ll let you two catch up. Pops, I’m gonna go take a bath.”

Rodrigue brightens at the nickname just as much as Felix scowls at it. “Just ask one of the staff to take you up to the guest chambers,” Rodrigue tells her. He returns her cheerful wave as she disappears into the estate proper.

Felix tenses as his father turns the full force of his attention back to himself and Etienne. “I know it’s a surprise,” Felix starts.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me if you don’t want to,” Rodrigue interrupts him gently. “I have a healthy grandson now, don’t I? What do I have to complain about?”

Ridiculous. His father is ridiculous. And yet, the bloom of love and relief that opens in Felix’s chest at his father’s easy understanding is almost enough to make his eyes sting with tears. Regardless of Rodrigue’s doubts, his arms are open for Etienne.

“Here,” Felix says abruptly, holding out Etienne’s swaddled form. “Do you want to hold him?”

Rodrigue blinks, then softens. There’s something in his face that reminds Felix of when he and Glenn were children. It twists sharply behind his ribs to watch his father reach out so tenderly for Etienne’s tiny form.

Etienne shifts from Felix’s arms to Rodrigue’s, and in that moment, Etienne does something he’s never done before.

His eyes blink open wide as he leaves Felix’s grip. He realizes that he’s in a stranger’s arms. But unlike with Hapi, he does more than just whimper – he opens his mouth, scrunches his face, and wails.

The sound startles Felix so badly that he jumps, but Rodrigue takes it in stride, cradling Etienne more securely. “There, there,” Rodrigue coos, bouncing him. “I’m your grandfather, Etienne. It’s okay.”

Etienne is not reassured. His cries only get louder, tears streaming down his bright red cheeks as he twists and grabs for Felix.

Unable to watch his son so obviously distressed, Felix snatches him back, cradling him close and tucking his head against the crook of his neck. “Shh, shh, Goddess and all her saints, it’s okay,” he mumbles as Etienne’s cries slowly fade into sniffles. “I… guess that was a little much for him.”

“It’s alright,” Rodrigue says, though with a furrow in his brow. “I’m a stranger to him as far as he’s concerned. He’ll get used to me eventually.”

Not today, though. Not tomorrow either, since Felix is due to return to Fhirdiad and he won’t be leaving for quite some time after.

“I’ll have a crib brought to your chambers,” Rodrigue says. “The healers should be able to prepare formula for him, if you need.”

“Yes, that would be ideal.” Felix rocks Etienne gently, trying to reassure him when he keeps sniffling into Felix’s neck. “…Thank you, Father.”

“Of course.” Rodrigue pulls Felix into a short, one-armed hug. “I am glad you have returned safely, my son.”

Felix doesn’t even end up using the crib. Now that Etienne has found his voice, he is unafraid to use it; whenever Felix tries to put him to bed, he cries and screams until Felix picks him back up. Felix ends up on his back in the bed with Etienne sound asleep on his chest.

He’s sure there’s some parenting advice that advises against sleeping with his child in his bed, but Felix’s hands are probably the only kind ones that have ever held Etienne. Of course Etienne is frightened to be left alone in what is essentially a cage full of blankets. The trust Etienne has in Felix is still new, still fragile, and Felix will not break it by leaving him to cry alone.

As he has since Felix rescued him, Etienne wakes frequently from what seem like nightmares, but he calms much more quickly now than he did the first few nights. He drinks the formula prepared by the healers just as readily as he drank the goat’s milk, and when Felix has to change him, he’s placid and curious about what Felix is doing. Felix wouldn’t call it easy, but he’s seen worse things on the battlefield than whatever a baby can produce.

Morning comes all too quickly. Etienne’s frequent nightmares mean that Felix hasn’t gotten a full night’s sleep, but he rises anyway, eager to return to the capital and give his report to the King. (It has nothing to do with seeing Dimitri’s face again and seeing for himself that he’s been sleeping well.)

“I understand that you’ll be returning to the capital,” Rodrigue says as Felix shrugs his traveling cloak on. Hapi, already prepared for the journey, waits at the estate’s entrance with her robes pulled tight against the coastal chill. “Will you be leaving Etienne at the estate?”

“No,” Felix says more sharply than he means to. “No,” he repeats more evenly. “I’ll see if the healers can mix him more formula, and if not, I will find a wet nurse willing to travel to the capital with me.”

“I remember when you were an infant,” Rodrigue says wistfully. “You came to the capital with me on a few occasions as well.”

Felix rolls his eyes in disgust. “Ugh.”

“Oh, you were a terror even then. Cried up a storm in the middle of a privy council meeting!” Rodrigue laughs. “The only thing that could calm you down when you really got going was seeing little Dimitri’s face.”

“Father,” Felix hisses, face flushing. Etienne may not be old enough to understand, but Felix still doesn’t want to be embarrassed in front of his child.

His child. Has Etienne already domesticated him?

“I’ll manage things here,” Rodrigue says, more softly. “Write to your old man, will you?” He tucks Etienne’s traveling furs more snugly around his little head. “About you and your little foundling both.”

It’s with a pang that Felix realizes that he’s essentially given his father a mere day to process the fact that he has a grandson now.

“Come visit the capital when you can,” he blurts out. “Assuming your old bones can handle the trip.”

The affectionate way his father smiles at Felix and Etienne both is worth the embarrassment of the request.

Another good thing about traveling with Hapi is that she knows all the best ways to move throughout the city of Fhirdiad unseen.

Between the journey and Etienne refusing to allow him a full night’s sleep, Felix is exhausted. He just wants to return to the castle, give his report to Dimitri, and fall into bed. Etienne may wake him for food and changes and cuddles, but at least Felix likes to be bothered by Etienne. Well-meaning citizenry and guards that remember him from the war, not so much.

“I’ll go find someone to look at these,” Hapi says when they are let into the back entrance of the castle unannounced by some understanding guards. She shakes the small collection of papers she recovered from the lab, mostly the ones labeled with 22. “Say hi to Didi for me, will you?”

“I’ll give His Majesty your greetings,” Felix says stiffly. Hapi laughs at him as she walks away, which only makes him bristle more.

He doesn’t make it to the throne room without interception, but he relaxes when he sees Sylvain and Ingrid’s familiar faces. Sylvain must be delivering his report on the Sreng border, then.

“Your father sent a letter ahead of you letting us know you were on your way back,” Sylvain says by way of greeting. “Should have known you’d refuse to be announced.”

“I have better things to do than deal with the court’s nonsense,” Felix says with a roll of his eyes. Etienne has jerked his head up at the unfamiliar voices, and Felix runs an absent hand through his hair to soothe him.

“Oh,” Ingrid says. “A baby.”

Felix isn’t sure who is more perturbed, Etienne or Ingrid. Etienne eyes her suspiciously from the warm cradle of Felix’s arms, one tiny fist shoved into his mouth. She stares back in bafflement.

“His name is Etienne,” Felix says helpfully.

Ingrid stoops a little to meet Etienne’s baleful gaze. “Hello, Etienne.”

“He can’t talk yet,” Felix informs her, just in case she doesn’t know.

“I know that,” Ingrid says irritably. “I’m just being polite.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Save it for someone who appreciates it. It’s not like he’s used to proper manners with someone like me as his father.”

“Right.” Ingrid blinks, then jerks her head up to stare wide-eyed at Felix. “He’s yours?”

“Yes.” Felix bounces Etienne a little, which breaks Etienne’s wary focus on Ingrid enough to tuck his face back against Felix’s chest.

Sylvain scrutinizes Etienne’s face with an intensity Felix isn’t sure he likes. Etienne stares back silently, almost like he’s aware he’s being studied. The thought makes something twist in Felix’s chest, like he needs tuck Etienne away from Sylvain’s searching eyes – Etienne has had enough of being studied for a lifetime.

“He looks like Dimitri,” Sylvain says finally. His eyes flicker up to Felix. “A lot like Dimitri.”

“He’s a blond baby with blue eyes,” Felix snaps, not sure what Sylvain is getting at but disliking it all the same. “Of course he looks like Dimitri.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sylvain says in a placating tone of voice. “He’s cute. I’m just… surprised.”

Immediately, Felix feels a pang of guilt. Sylvain is a lot of things, but he is absolutely nothing like the people who… did this to Etienne. Of course Sylvain is surprised to hear that Felix has a bastard child, especially one that looks so… Blaiddyd.

“I didn’t realize your trip was that eventful,” Ingrid says. Uncertainly, she offers her hand to Etienne like he’s going to shake it. He stares at her blankly, and she retracts her hand, a little shamefaced.

“His mother confronted me and told me she didn’t want him,” Felix says. “I had an encounter during the war and didn’t think anything resulted from it, but evidently, I was wrong.”

“An encounter,” Sylvain echoes. “You.”

“Why does everyone keep saying it like that?” Felix wants to throw his hands up in exasperation. “Is it really so unbelievable that I made a mistake?”

“Oh, no, we all believe you’re capable of making mistakes,” Sylvain assures him. “It’s just that this type of mistake is very unlike you.”

“Ugh. Whatever. I have to give my report to the boar, so if you’re done wasting my time…”

“Of course,” Ingrid says, blessedly stepping aside. “Take care, Felix. We should eat dinner together tonight before Sylvain leaves.”

“Fine.”

Sylvain shakes his head as Felix walks by, but he smiles when Felix makes eye contact. “It’s good to see you,” he says. “And your, uh. Your son.”

“Thanks,” Felix says, softening just a little. “You too. Both of you.”

Dimitri is definitely busy when Felix approaches the throne room, but one look at the entrance has him dismissing the councilman he’s speaking with to meet with Felix instead.

Foolish as always. No priorities. But it warms Felix all the same to see Dimitri so excited at his return.

“Felix,” Dimitri greets warmly, descending from the dais. “It gladdens me to see you return safely.”

“It’s me,” Felix says with a roll of his eyes. “Did you expect anything less?”

“Of course not. I’d never question your abilities. Is Hapi—”

“Fine. Bringing our findings to the lab.”

“Of course. I’m happy you’re both safe and well.” Dimitri stops in front of Felix, and it’s only now that he seems to notice the bundle tucked against Felix’s chest. “And… who is this, exactly?”

Felix freezes. It hadn’t been easy to explain Etienne to his father, or to Sylvain and Ingrid, but the words hadn’t choked him like they’re choking him now. Etienne, my bastard son, he cannot seem to say. For some reason, the idea of Dimitri thinking Felix laid with a woman even once makes something cold and uncomfortable curl up in the bottom of Felix’s chest.

“Etienne,” Felix finally manages to say. “He’s mine. From a wartime tryst. She didn’t want him, and she confronted me on my travels.”

Dimitri’s face falls. Felix cannot fathom why. “Ah,” is all Dimitri can say. “He’s… yours.”

“That’s what I said,” Felix snaps. “Were you hoping he was someone else’s?”

“What—no, nothing like that.” Dimitri’s eye widens. “I was… simply surprised. I didn’t think you were the, ah… type.”

“Does it matter? It happened once. One time is enough.” Felix’s growing agitation is making Etienne restless, so he forces himself to take a breath and calm down. Dimitri doesn’t mean anything by it. He can’t. He’s hard on Sylvain about things like this, but Felix—as far as Dimitri knows, this was one mistake with unintended consequences. He can’t be looking down on Felix or Etienne for this, can he?

The anxiety vanishes almost as soon as it appears. No, Dimitri has never held anyone’s origins against them. He would also never begrudge Felix for making a mistake, especially not when Felix seems to be taking responsibility for it. Something else must be bothering him, then.

Felix furrows his brow. “Are your headaches coming back?”

Dimitri is so startled by the question that Felix knows that can’t be it. “Okay, no, then,” Felix continues before Dimitri can speak. “Is it that you think he looks like you? Because everyone keeps saying it, and it’s been driving me insane. Babies all look the same. This one just happens to have your coloring.”

Whatever is on Dimitri’s mind seems to get caught up and carried away by the stream of Felix’s thoughts. His lips curve into a smile as Felix talks, his shoulders relaxing. Well. That’s that, then.

“I apologize if I seemed upset,” Dimitri says. “You must understand that this is… quite a surprise. How old is he?”

How old is Etienne? From what little experience Felix has with infants, he’d guess about half a year, but that could be wildly inaccurate. “She didn’t tell me,” Felix says, half-truthfully. “She was upset with me.”

“I cannot imagine why,” Dimitri says, brow furrowing. “If she had simply told you when she realized she was with child, you would have taken responsibility right away.”

Felix shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter now. I’ll ask the healers. I’m guessing half a year?”

“Mercedes is in town, if you’d like her to take a look at him.” Dimitri keeps glancing down at Etienne, entranced, and to Felix’s surprise, Etienne seems just as fascinated by Dimitri.

“I’ll send her a missive when I get the chance.” He hadn’t let any of the Fraldarius healers examine Etienne too closely for fear of them discovering something unnatural about him, but he trusts Mercedes to be discreet if she has to. “In the meantime, how have you been holding up without me?”

That startles a laugh out of Dimitri. “You know I always miss your presence when you leave me,” he says with a smile that makes Felix’s heart thump. “But Dedue ensured I took my meals on time, despite the stress. The council seemed to take your absence as an invitation to push their most conservative policies.”

“Of course.” Felix curls his lip. “Do they think you’re a pushover just because you’re more polite than I am?”

“I always appreciate you speaking out on my behalf. You have quite a way of saying the things I cannot for fear of abusing my power as a king.” Dimitri chuckles. “But I assure you, I managed well enough on my own.”

“Good.” Felix readjusts his grip on Etienne as the infant tries to reach for Dimitri. “Huh. He’s never taken to anyone this quickly.”

“Oh… really?” Dimitri offers his finger to Etienne, who grabs it with a gummy smile. “May I hold him, perhaps?”

Felix hesitates, remembering the way Etienne wailed in Rodrigue’s arms, but both Etienne and Dimitri seem enchanted with one another. “Hold out your arms,” he says.

He shifts Etienne from his arms to Dimitri’s and holds his breath, but it seems like he doesn’t need to worry. Etienne doesn’t whine or cry. Etienne swings one chubby fist up at Dimitri and giggles.

Dimitri’s whole face lights up. “Hello there,” he says delightedly. “I’m glad to meet you too, Etienne.”

Etienne looks so tiny in the crook of Dimitri’s arm. Felix expected to be more anxious – he hasn’t even slept separately from Etienne, and here he is, letting someone else hold him – but instead, he just feels warm in a way he can’t quantify. Dimitri’s blond head downturned to meet Etienne’s curious blue gaze, the playful way he again offers his finger for Etienne to hold – it settles something in Felix’s chest. This is okay. More than okay. Right.

“What a sweet little prince,” Dimitri coos. “I can see the resemblance.”

Felix snorts. “He looks nothing like me.” He can say that with absolute certainty.

“No, no. It’s in his expressions.” Dimitri smiles, and Etienne smiles back. “See? He smiles just like you, Felix.”

Felix, dubious, peers down at Etienne. He can’t see whatever it is Dimitri is seeing. “I’ll… take your word for it.”

“Trust me,” Dimitri says.

I do, Felix almost replies, but he swallows the embarrassingly vulnerable words down.

Regretfully, Dimitri hands Etienne back to Felix. “I wish we could continue to speak, but I have duties to attend to,” he says. He allows Etienne to keep holding onto his finger, which Etienne does, quite firmly and with a big smile. “Your report, my lord Fraldarius?”

Standing close enough to let Etienne keep holding onto Dimitri, Felix begins. Dimitri will most likely be at dinner with Sylvain and Ingrid later, and they can talk more then.

(He ignores the pang of irritation that Sylvain and Ingrid will be there, too.)

Etienne settles into Felix’s life in Fhirdiad like he’s always been there.

Slowly, he becomes secure enough in his safety that he sleeps in a crib in Felix’s chambers instead of in Felix’s bed, though sometimes his nightmares still have him wailing until Felix takes him into his arms and brings him to bed.

What surprises Felix is how effortlessly Etienne settles into Dimitri’s life, too.

They’re absolutely taken with each other. Etienne still prefers Felix above all else, but Dimitri is the only one who can hold him without reducing him to tears. It does things to Felix’s heart to see Dimitri nuzzling their noses together and laughing, and he remembers with a twist in his stomach how fond of the monastery orphans Dimitri used to be.

Etienne is rarely out of Felix’s sight, and when he is, it’s usually because he’s in Dimitri’s. Mercedes, who has taken up residence at the castle to become something of Etienne’s full-time doctor, fashions Felix a sling so he can have his hands free while carrying Etienne about.

Mercedes confirms that Etienne is about six months old, and though he’s behind on some of his milestones like making speechlike noises and sitting up, it’s not drastic enough that she seems concerned.

“Make sure you let him strengthen his core by sitting him up,” Mercedes says. She eyes the way Felix cradles Etienne against his chest. “He needs to learn to sit and crawl independently of you.”

The idea of putting Etienne down anywhere other than his safe, enclosed crib stabs a spike of anxiety through Felix. How did his father ever let Glenn or Felix out of his sight? But Mercedes narrows her eyes at him, and he ducks his head, cowed.

“Fine,” he mutters. Mercedes beams at him.

Etienne still comes almost everywhere with Felix, but slowly, he learns to tolerate other people. Dedue is a favorite – Etienne’s wariness is quickly overcome by fascination at Dedue’s sheer size. Mercedes is tolerable, as is Sylvain. Ingrid’s discomfort with babies makes Etienne equally uncomfortable, but the two of them bond over Etienne’s first forays into solid food. When Ashe and Annette visit, they manage to get Etienne to giggle with the combined might of their enthusiasm and games of peek-a-boo.

Out of everyone, though, Dimitri is the only one Etienne not just tolerates but reaches out for. He coos and waves his hands from Felix’s arms, smiling and laughing when Dimitri brightens and reaches back.

Perhaps it’s not good etiquette to bring Etienne into council meetings, but Etienne usually isn’t much of a bother, especially when Felix lets him practice his core strength by sitting up on Dimitri’s lap. He looks like a tiny prince, peering over the edge of the table with wide, curious eyes, Dimitri’s arms secure around him. Whenever he fusses, Dimitri bounces one of his legs to keep him entertained, offering a finger for Etienne to stuff into his mouth and gum on.

Felix realizes that he might have a problem when he overhears someone ask Dedue where the “King’s son” is.

“Oh, I know he’s not been named heir yet,” the woman scrambles to continue when she presumably receives one of Dedue’s stony stares. “I apologize for the slip. I, um, I was simply wondering if he was attending today’s privy council. It brightens everyone’s mood to see him.”

Shit. Has Etienne really been attending so many of these meetings? There are only a few people Felix trusts to look after Etienne, and most of them attend the council too; it’s easier on Felix’s mind to simply bring Etienne with him. And it’s true that Etienne ends up in Dimitri’s lap more often than not, since Felix prefers to have his sword arm free in the presence of anyone who might wish Dimitri ill. But Etienne is a Fraldarius. It’s not a secret – some of the council members call him “the little duke,” and his tiny furred capelet bears the crest of his family. Regardless of the color of his hair and eyes, he’s not Dimitri’s child.

So why are people acting like Etienne being named Dimitri’s heir is a foregone conclusion?

Well. Etienne’s nickname of “little prince” probably isn’t helping matters, but it isn’t as though they call Etienne that in the meetings themselves.

And still. And still. Felix’s foolish heart can’t help but chase the thought.

Etienne does, despite Felix’s protests, look like he could be Dimitri’s son. In another life, maybe he could have been. Maybe Felix could have been the one to bear him, and there would never be any question about whether he was Dimitri’s heir because he would be Dimitri’s from the start. And Felix, at Dimitri’s side, would be—

He shakes his head. There’s no point in dwelling on such things.

(But his heart still beats for Dimitri. It always has. It beats for Etienne too, now, but there’s no shutting up the part of him that yearns.)

Though Dimitri tries, as always, to hide his suffering, it is impossible for him to conceal his increasing exhaustion from Felix.

As far as Felix knows, it isn’t anything large. There is unrest in some former Adrestian territories, but nothing that looks to be boiling over into rebellion. The lords in Leicester send constant missives about taxes and road quality and other mercantile issues, but it is nothing that cannot be solved with time and patience. Reparations for Duscur, though heavily contested by the older councilmembers, are going well.

But it is the combination of all these things and more that weigh Dimitri’s shoulders down and trouble his sleep. He spends long nights at his desk drafting letter after letter, policy after policy, much to Felix and Dedue’s despair. When he does go to bed, he rises often to return to work, so much so that Felix had the small desk in his bedchambers removed to take this avenue of overwork away from him. He is trying to fix three countries’ worth of problems within the span of a few months, and it is killing him.

Felix’s brief absence to deal with the old Agarthan lab seems to have reinforced Dimitri’s worst habits. The boar truly is helpless without him. Dedue is too soft on him to be of any help when Dimitri gets this stubborn, and so Felix takes it upon himself to remedy the situation.

“Boar,” he says, shouldering the door to Dimitri’s office open. “We’re going for a walk.”

“Felix,” Dimitri says. His face is drawn, bags under his eyes that are visible even beneath the eyepatch, but he still brightens at the sight of Etienne strapped to Felix’s chest.

Etienne is asleep, but Felix is sure the enthusiasm would be mutual were he awake. Maybe it should make him jealous, but Etienne’s obsession with Dimitri is, regrettably, something that makes him more of a son to Felix than less of one. (This is a fact Sylvain likes to point out. Ingrid nearly choked herself to death on a beef bone the first time he said it.)

Jerking his head at the door, Felix puts a hand on his hip. “Come on. You need fresh air.”

“I have to—”

“No. What you have to do is take a walk with me. This isn’t a debate, Dimitri.”

Maybe it’s the prospect of spending time with Etienne, or maybe he’s too tired to argue, but Dimitri heaves himself up from his desk with a great sigh and sets his quill aside. “Just a quick walk,” he says.

The weather is surprisingly pleasant for a walk in the king’s gardens, which are more colorful than ever under Dedue’s watchful eye. Felix leads Dimitri on a winding trail through the flowers. The gardens are private, so it’s the perfect place for Dimitri to let his guard down and enjoy the sun a little.

Felix glances at a particular bloom lining the cobblestone pathway. He turns to Dimitri. “Isn’t that one of the Duscur flowers Dedue was trying to—”

He cuts himself off immediately and rushes back to grip Dimitri by the elbows as Dimitri sways on the spot. “Sit down,” he snaps, leading Dimitri to one of the garden benches and shoving him down.

“I’m fine,” Dimitri tries to say.

“Clearly I underestimated your stupidity if a walk through the gardens has you swooning,” Felix hisses. He wishes he could raise his voice, but Etienne is already muttering unhappily in his sleep against Felix’s chest. “How long has it been since you’ve had a proper night’s sleep?”

Dimitri waves one absentminded hand at Felix, the other still pinching the bridge of his nose. “I simply need to sit for a moment,” he says. “I went far longer without rest during the war.”

The thing is, during the war isn’t a metric Felix appreciates when it comes to Dimitri’s health. He was a skeleton of a man, a brooding husk barely eating and sleeping enough to keep himself alive; even when his health took a turn for the better, he was never whole and happy. So no, Felix won’t accept Dimitri’s paltry excuses to run himself into the ground. He also knows that trying to convince Dimitri to go to bed with words is fruitless. Well, whatever. He may not be a tactical genius, but he’s known for his unconventional strategies for a reason.

He places Etienne on Dimitri’s lap.

Though startled, Dimitri automatically shifts his hands to cradle Etienne’s little body, allowing Felix to withdraw his grip. The movement disturbs Etienne’s rest for only a moment – he blinks open sleepy blue eyes, recognizes Dimitri’s face, and immediately snuggles closer to Dimitri to go back to sleep.

“Felix,” Dimitri says with a sigh. “I don’t have time to—”

“You wouldn’t wake him up, would you?” Felix gestures at Etienne’s angelic face, silently grateful that Etienne didn’t throw a tantrum the moment he realized his father wasn’t holding him anymore. “Look at him. He’s sleeping.”

Dimitri closes his eye wearily. “That he is.”

“He doesn’t look like he’s waking up anytime soon.” Felix sits on the bench beside Dimitri. “You’d better get comfortable.”

“Felix…”

Felix bumps his shoulder against Dimitri’s – gently, so as not to disturb Etienne’s sleeping form. “Fódlan won’t burn in a single afternoon. Just… take a break, will you?”

Dimitri’s weight sags against Felix. It’s like supporting a mountain. All the weight on Dimitri’s shoulders, shifted to Felix’s for just a moment.

It’s a weight Felix is willing to carry for as long as Dimitri needs it.

The weeks pass. Etienne starts teething. He and Felix are both miserable about it.

He will not stop crying and fussing and waking in the night, no matter how many “teething toys” Mercedes offers him. Prior to this, his sleep schedule was becoming more regular, and the longer stretches of interrupted rest had been making Felix weak. Now, he barely has his eyes closed for an hour before Etienne is wailing again, and it’s starting to affect his work.

To his mortification, he nods off during a one-on-one meeting with Dimitri about crop yields in old Adrestia. He’s grateful that it didn’t happen during something as public as a council meeting, but it’s embarrassing all the same to lose focus so thoroughly. What’s worse is how much Dimitri worries, even when Felix insists that he’s fine to continue.

“You’re fussing more than the baby does,” Felix says. “Leave me be. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re exhausted,” Dimitri says pleadingly. “You always tell me to rest when I am weary. Allow me to do the same for you.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “That’s different. I’m raising a child, not working myself to death at my desk.”

“Children are not supposed to be raised without help.” Dimitri sets the papers aside, and Felix lets out an exasperated breath. Clearly, Dimitri has given up on this meeting being productive. “The castle has very reliable minders. You can leave him with one of them for a few nights and catch up on your rest.”

Felix jerks upright. “Absolutely not,” he snaps. Etienne will not be left in a stranger’s hands. He’s with Mercedes right now, and even that is setting Felix’s teeth on edge.

“I thought not,” Dimitri says with a sigh. “You’ve never slept without him in your room, have you?”

“…No.” Felix slumps back against his chair. “I’m… too tense to sleep if he isn’t close.” Mercedes has commented on it more than once, gently suggesting that it would be good for both Etienne and Felix to become more independent of each other, but she doesn’t know where Etienne came from. Hasn’t heard the way Etienne screams awake from nightmares, even now. Felix cannot sleep if Etienne isn’t with him. He will not.

“You’re a good father,” Dimitri says softly. “But you need to care for yourself as well.”

“I can do this on my own.” Felix folds his arms. “What do you expect to do? Lie in bed with me so you can get up and calm him every time he cries?”

Dimitri’s face brightens. Felix knows right away that he’s made a mistake.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Dimitri says. “We can trade off who tends him, so you may get more sleep. I can share your chambers for a few nights.”

“Wh—boar, that’s ridiculous. Do you have any idea what kind of rumors will spread if you spend the night with me?” Felix demands. “Not to mention the security risk! Do you plan to move all of the guards from the royal apartments to my room?”

“You’re right.” Dimitri rubs his lower lip with his thumb in a motion that distracts Felix more than he’d like to admit. “You’ll stay with me, then.”

Felix gapes.

“We can move Etienne’s crib into the room without much fuss,” Dimitri continues, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring Felix’s stare. “We can be discreet, but even if it’s seen, all it will do is fuel existing rumors of Etienne becoming my heir.”

“There’s no arguing with you about this, is there,” Felix says, half in realization and half in resignation. If he was less exhausted, he’s sure he would be able to come up with a better reason that this is a terrible idea. But Etienne has worn him down. The idea of being able to just… go back to sleep when he cries, to let someone else handle it for a change…

“You call upon me at all hours of the night, anyway. No one will question your presence there.” Dimitri smiles, self-satisfied, and Felix wants to both throttle him and kiss him stupid. “Felix. You help me so much. Let me help you for a change.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Felix pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll sleep on the sofa. We’ll trade off who cares for him when he cries. Happy?”

“Quite.” Dimitri’s triumphant grin softens into something much more affectionate. “It gladdens me that you and Etienne both trust me so much, you know. He has become quite precious to me.”

Just like that, Felix’s exasperation bleeds away. “I’m glad, too,” he says, barely audible. Glad to have Dimitri in his life like this, as always, and glad that Etienne cherishes Dimitri’s presence just as much as Felix does.

Felix isn’t sure if he should be offended that no one bats an eye at Lord Fraldarius moving his baby’s crib into the King’s chamber. Frankly, he’s too tired to care, and since no one is foolish enough to say anything to him directly, he doesn’t bother snapping at anyone about it. Dimitri coaxes him into lying down on the sofa when it becomes clear that Felix can’t be convinced to take the bed, and it speaks to Felix’s exhaustion that even the stiff, uncomfortable sofa cushions don’t prevent him from drifting off almost immediately.

What feels like mere minutes later, Etienne wails. Felix mumbles and sits up on the sofa, blanket tumbling off his shoulders as he rolls to his feet to attend his son.

“Shh,” Dimitri’s voice comes softly from the direction of the bedroom. “I’ll take care of him. Go back to sleep.”

“Sofa’s uncomfortable anyway,” Felix mutters. He sways into the warmth of Dimitri’s body as Dimitri passes by, allowing Dimitri to bump their shoulders together.

“Go take the bed, then.” Dimitri gives him a gentle push towards the bedroom door. “I’ll let you know if I need help.”

“Mm.” Felix nudges his forehead against Dimitri’s shoulder and shuffles over to the dark bedroom. Etienne is still whimpering, but Felix can already hear Dimitri shushing him. He’ll take care of it. Felix can rest.

He’s sure that if he was more awake, he’d have more concerns about climbing into Dimitri’s bed, but as it is – he’s barely slept for a week, the sofa dug into him in all the wrong places, and Dimitri’s bed is large and warm and smells like home.

From the other room comes the soft sound of Dimitri’s voice soothing Etienne’s cries. “What is it, little prince?” Dimitri coos. “It’s alright. What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

Felix tugs back the sheets and curls up in the patch of warmth left by Dimitri’s body. The pillow, the blankets, the mattress – all of it envelops Felix in Dimitri’s warm scent. He closes his eyes and snuggles down more thoroughly, the quiet noise of Dimitri coaxing Etienne back to sleep lulling him as well.

Etienne’s cries quiet to sniffles, then fall silent altogether. Half-asleep, Felix listens as Dimitri shuffles back towards the bedroom – and then he hears the sofa creak.

“Boar,” Felix calls muzzily. He keeps his voice low so as not to wake Etienne again. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

The creaking stops, but Dimitri does not respond.

Felix grumbles, sitting up in the bed. “Get in here already.”

“If… if you’re sure,” Dimitri whispers. His silhouette moves towards the bedroom door. He pauses at the threshold, but at Felix’s hard stare, he continues into the room.

“Good,” Felix says. He yanks the covers back and pats the mattress. “Bed.”

Haltingly, Dimitri crawls into bed beside Felix. He lies down, stiff and uncertain. Felix rolls his eyes. Does he have to do everything for this fool king? He pulls the blankets over Dimitri’s tense form and tucks them aggressively around Dimitri’s shoulders.

“Felix,” Dimitri says. He doesn’t say anything else.

“Ugh. Just go to sleep.” Felix flops back down onto the mattress and closes his eyes. “Bed’s more comfortable than the sofa.”

“Okay,” Dimitri whispers. Slowly, slowly, the tension bleeds from his form, and with it, Felix’s body relaxes too. With Dimitri in bed beside him and Etienne sound asleep one room over, Felix’s world is in alignment. It’s as warm and syrupy-soft as the long-ago nights he fell asleep curled up against Dimitri, half-awake as Glenn shut the book of fairy tales he’d been reading aloud and tucked the blanket more firmly around his chin. It feels like home. Like family.

(Etienne wakes them four more times before the night is over, but Felix rises the next morning more rested than he has in days.)

Felix has a training session planned with some of the warriors from a diplomatic entourage from Duscur, and he’s been looking forward to exercising his sword arm for weeks. Thankfully, Dimitri is planning to spend a day in his office (just the day, he promised to Felix) drafting his new proposal for a commoners’ council to contribute to policymaking, and he has agreed to watch Etienne.

“Looking forward to a day with Dimitri?” Felix asks Etienne as they wait for Dimitri to come pick him up.

Etienne, who has a lock of Felix’s hair shoved into his mouth, mumbles, “Da-da-da.”

“Thought so.” Felix tries to free his hair and gets a baleful stare for his trouble. Both of them look up at the sound of knuckles rapping on the doorframe.

Etienne brightens at the sight of Dimitri in the door. “Da-da-da-da!” he cheers, waving his arms. His little da noises, not quite dada yet but approaching it, are usually reserved for Felix alone, but hearing him use them for Dimitri too makes Felix’s heart light. Not only is it heartening that Etienne trusts someone other than Felix, it always does funny things to Felix’s chest to see Dimitri’s expression melt when he’s addressed that way.

“There’s our little prince,” Dimitri says fondly as he approaches. “May I hold him?”

Felix rolls his eyes. Etienne is practically squirming out of Felix’s arms to get to Dimitri. It is no longer up to Felix whether or not Dimitri holds Etienne.

“Take the little beast,” Felix says, dropping Etienne into Dimitri’s expectant arms.

“Da!” Etienne cheers. He wrenches a handful of Dimitri’s hair into his mouth.

“Oh—” Dimitri winces, head jerking downward. “He has quite the grip, doesn’t he?”

“He does,” Felix says. Despite his own stinging scalp, he’s quite proud of Etienne. “His formula is on my desk. There’s a heat rune on the bottle, so you shouldn’t need to warm it. If he’s willing to eat some solid food, you can mash up some vegetables or potatoes for him.”

“Felix,” Dimitri says with a laugh. “I know. I’ve looked after him before.”

Felix flushes. “I’m just making sure,” he mutters.

“Our visitors are already on the pitch.” Dimitri nods at the door. “Go. I know you’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“Behave yourself while I’m gone,” Felix says as he straps his sword belt on.

Dimitri’s eye glitters with amusement. “Which one of us?”

“You’re insufferable. Both of you.”

“Say goodbye to your father, Etienne,” Dimitri says, bouncing the child in his arms.

“Eee-ee-ee. Da-da,” Etienne says. One hand is still holding a fistful of Dimitri’s hair, but he waves the other one at Felix. Felix can, unfortunately, feel the smile curving his own lips up as he waves back.

It’s a long and satisfying exercise to train with the Duscur entourage, if more exhausting than it should be. Etienne has made Felix softer than he’s used to.

When Felix walks up to Dimitri’s office, sweaty and sore but incredibly satisfied, the door is cracked open. This isn’t unusual; Dimitri dislikes silence, and leaving the door open allows him to hear the comings and goings in the hall outside his office. What makes Felix pause at the door is the sight of Dimitri pacing in front of the bookshelf, Etienne in his arms.

“What do you think?” Dimitri asks, tilting his head to look at Etienne.

“Ba,” Etienne says decisively. “Ba-da-da.”

“I agree. Quite astute of you.” Dimitri bounces Etienne on his hip with one arm and reaches for a book with the other. “It is always good to review existing policies as we draft new ones.”

“Ee-ee-ee,” Etienne says.

“It can be a little dry, I know,” Dimitri says, quite understandingly. “But it is important to know all the same.”

“Eee.”

The whole scene is making Felix ache in ways he doesn’t want to address, so he chooses this moment to open the door more fully. “Are you threatening my child with Faerghan legal policy?” he asks.

Dimitri startles a little, but it’s nothing close to his jackknife jumpiness during the war. He turns to face Felix with a warm smile. “It’s the easiest way to get him to fall asleep,” he says, hiking Etienne further up his hip. “As charming as he is, it’s quite a bit easier to work when he’s napping.”

“I hope he hasn’t been too much of a bother.”

“No more than you usually are,” Dimitri says teasingly. “He’s just as exacting as you are, demanding I take breaks to feed and change him.”

Felix nods approvingly at Etienne. “Good job.”

“Da-da-ba-da-da,” Etienne coos and waves an arm at Felix, squirming in Dimitri’s hold until Dimitri passes him off to Felix. “Ee. Ee.”

Felix glances down, blinking at the sight of something small and misshapen clutched in Etienne’s tiny fist. “What’s this?” he asks.

Dimitri, to Felix’s shock, flushes. “I, ah…” He glances out the window. “You know I practice sewing to manage my strength. I… fashioned him a doll. Today was as good of a time as any to give it to him.”

When Felix squints, he supposes he can see the shape of a person in the lump of cloth. Regardless of its appearance, Etienne makes an unhappy noise and tightens his grip on it when Felix nudges it with a finger, so it’s clearly been accepted as a cherished companion. “Seems like he likes it.”

“I’m glad,” Dimitri says. There’s a note of vulnerability in his voice that makes Felix’s chest hurt. He still sees his hands as violent things – things incapable of nurturing, of creation. Etienne is proof of the opposite, as is the doll held warmly against Etienne’s fluttering heartbeat.

I love you, Felix wants to say, but what he says instead is, “How is the proposal coming?”

Dimitri settles at his desk to flip through his drafts. Felix sets Etienne on the floor and supervises him as he crawls around on his belly. The doll will need washing after this, he notes – Etienne refuses to release it even has he travels from bookshelf to bookshelf.

Etienne truly is Felix’s son to be so taken with Dimitri and the things Dimitri gives him.

Six months have passed since Etienne’s rescue, and Felix has almost forgotten about the old laboratory. But Lysithea sends for him from the castle labs, and it only takes a moment to remember what she’s been working on and why she might want to talk to Felix about it. He leaves Etienne with Ingrid and makes his way to the research labs, numb.

“We deciphered the notes in the laboratory where you found Etienne,” Lysithea says in lieu of a greeting. Linhardt, at the desk by the window, offers him a nod.

Felix had been expecting this, but his heart still drops.

It’s been so easy to pretend Etienne is a normal child these past few months. He laughs and cries like any other infant. He shrieks in delight whenever Dimitri lets him ride on his shoulders. He screams out for comfort whenever he has nightmares. He eats and he sleeps and he craves touch like any child born of a human mother.

But he’s not human. Not entirely, anyway. He’ll carry that for his entire life. He carries it now, in his nightmares and his blank, watchful stares, in the way he still screams sometimes when Felix or Dimitri leave him.

“The good news is that biologically, he’s pretty much a normal child.” Lysithea taps a sheaf of paperwork covered in scribbled notes and diagrams that Felix has no hope of deciphering. “We can’t find any irregularities like we did with Hapi or…” She swallows. “Or myself. He was… grown instead of born, but it doesn’t seem to have impacted his physiology in any meaningful way.”

Felix slumps against the wall, unaware of how much tension he was holding until it all leaves him in a rush.

“He does have a Major Crest, though, which leads me to our next point.” Lysithea glances at the notes, then at Linhardt.

“It’s fascinating. They seem to have developed a procedure to increase the likelihood of Crest emergence in children – not just minor ones, but major ones,” Linhardt says. “It’s highly unethical and nothing that can be replicated with any sort of conscience, but—”

Felix thinks about the lab, about rows of little skeletons, about subject 22, and he glares. “I don’t care about that,” he snaps. “Get to the point.”

Linhardt clears his throat. He seems a little abashed, at least. “Etienne has the Crest of Blaiddyd,” he says. “He was created by using tissue taken from a Crest-bearing Blaiddyd and replicating it. It would be a misnomer to call him a clone, exactly, since we found a number of notes about other components that went into, ahem, creating him…”

Blaiddyd. Tissue. The eye in a jar. The picture of Etienne’s origins is becoming chillingly clear, but Felix still needs to hear it. “Just tell me.”

“Cornelia kept the King’s eye when she took it. This is what she used it for,” Lysithea says bluntly. “It looks like her ultimate goal was to manufacture children with two Crests, but this is all she managed to do.” She gestures with the papers. “Biologically speaking, he is Dimitri’s son. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She says it so matter-of-factly, but Felix reels. Etienne. Dimitri’s son. Felix’s little prince, the son of his prince-now-king.

“Is there anything else?” he asks. His voice sounds distant, like someone else is speaking.

“Well—” Linhardt starts.

“Nothing pressing,” Lysithea interrupts him. “I’ll draft an abbreviated report of our findings regarding his health and body, but we’ll give you time to process this first.”

Through a mouth dry with shock, Felix swallows. “Okay,” he says weakly, and without another word, he turns and walks out.

The full picture of Etienne’s origins gnaws at Felix for hours after he hears it, even after he retrieves Etienne from a relieved Ingrid. He had planned for Etienne’s history to burn with the lab – planned to swear Hapi and Linhardt and Lysithea to secrecy and let the mystery of his origins remain a mystery to everyone who doubts that he’s biologically Felix’s. There are too many people who would hear about what Etienne is, what exactly created him, and look at him differently, maybe even malevolently. But Etienne – he was born of Dimitri.

No, not just Dimitri. Dimitri’s pain. Dimitri has never told Felix how he lost his eye and Felix has never asked, but he knows enough about Dimitri’s imprisonment in Fhirdiad to draw his own conclusions. Dimitri deserves to know what was wrought from that suffering, whatever the result.

(Dimitri still thinks of those five years with so much shame. So much self-loathing. Maybe Etienne, who was born from the fire that burned Dimitri all that time, will give Dimitri something to love about the man who endured those long years alone and in pain.)

Felix has never been one to wait when there’s something that needs to be done. Dimitri should be in his office this time of day, reviewing his letters. It’s not the kind of discussion Felix wants Etienne present for, though, and there are very few people Felix trusts to look after his child – the castle staff have practically begged him to leave Etienne with a hired minder, but Felix refuses to leave Etienne in the arms of anyone he doesn’t know and trust personally.

“Dedue,” he says when he finds the man near the training grounds.

“Felix,” Dedue says with a nod. His eyes flicker down to Etienne and soften before moving back up to Felix’s face. He really has taken to Etienne like a little nephew. “What is it?”

“I need you to look after Etienne, if you can.” Felix jerks his head in the general direction of Dimitri’s office. “I need to speak to our fool king about something urgent, and I’d rather not be interrupted.”

Etienne coos as if to deny the notion that he’d ever do anything as impolite as interrupt an important conversation. Felix knows better, because Etienne has soiled his diaper during council meetings on more than one occasion.

Dedue’s expression melts a little. “Of course,” he says softly, holding out his hands for Etienne. “Has he been fed?”

Felix shifts Etienne into Dedue’s hold, sighing at how delightedly Etienne bats his hands against Dedue’s muscled bicep. He seems to find Dedue’s sheer size fascinating. “He’ll likely need a meal soon,” Felix says, “but he’s fine if it’s just something soft instead of his milk. Mercedes wants us to start weaning him.”

Dedue shifts Etienne in his grip so Etienne can latch more firmly onto his upper arm. This amuses Etienne, who giggles and presses his cheek to Dedue’s shoulder. “Understood. I will prepare something once I’ve finished supervising the guards’ training.”

“Hopefully he learns something, too.” Felix leans in to meet Etienne’s bright, curious gaze. “Pay close attention,” he tells Etienne. “You’re going to learn better sword form than all of them someday, and it never hurts to start early.”

“Da-da-da,” Etienne says cheerfully, reaching out to pat Felix’s cheek.

Felix nods at him. “Good.” He straightens. “I will return, Etienne. Behave yourself.”

“Say bye-bye, Etienne,” Dedue says, somehow straight-faced.

Etienne hasn’t really taken to proper words yet, which Mercedes assures Felix is a little late but still within a normal timeline, but he does wave happily as Felix leaves. Unable to help smiling, Felix waves back.

Just months ago, Etienne would have wailed himself hoarse at the sight of his only trusted caretaker leaving him behind, but he’s started to learn that the world is full of people who love him. This child, who did not know a kind touch from the moment of his birth, is loved by so many people now. Held by so many arms. Fed by so many kind hands, soothed by so many kind touches.

In another world, Etienne could have been dead, could have been a monster, could have been an unloved and terrified thing convinced that the only currency the world accepts is violence. In another world, he could have been Dimitri’s flesh and blood in all the worst ways possible.

But this is Etienne’s world. This is Dimitri’s world. One where Felix has reached his hand out to both of them and gripped them tight and refused to let them go. Felix takes a deep breath and raps his knuckles on Dimitri’s office door before pushing it open.

“I need to talk to you,” Felix says.

Dimitri blinks at him, somewhere between confusion and pleasant surprise. “Of course, Felix,” he says, setting his quill aside. “I always have time for you.”

“Of course you do. Why are you always so—” Felix makes a noise of frustration. He should really be used to the things Dimitri says by now, but somehow, he opens his stupid kingly mouth and says things like I always have time for you and it still makes Felix want to do something inadvisable like grab him by the shirt collar and shake him and kiss him on those buffoonish lips.

Dimitri frowns. “Always so what? Felix, is everything okay?”

“Yes. No. Ugh. It’s important. No, don’t get up.” Felix gestures sharply as Dimitri, concerned, moves to stand. “It’s about Etienne.”

Dimitri’s eye widens in alarm. “Is he—”

“He’s fine. He’s healthy. Nothing’s wrong with him,” Felix hurries to say. “It’s just…”

He knows what he needs to say, but he has no idea how to say it. Congratulations, you’re a father? Did you know babies can be made instead of born? So do you remember when Cornelia took your eye?

“He’s yours,” is what comes out of Felix’s mouth, which is perhaps the opaquest way he could have phrased it.

“…I know the nobility has been discussing the possibility of naming him my heir, but I somehow don’t think that that’s what you mean,” Dimitri says slowly.

“Ugh. This is complicated.” Felix slumps into the chair across from Dimitri’s desk, digging his knuckles into his forehead. There’s no use in sugarcoating or dancing around the issue, and it won’t help Dimitri anyway. “The court mage. Cornelia. When she took your eye, she used it to create him.”

He lifts his head to gauge Dimitri’s reaction. His stomach sinks at Dimitri’s blank expression.

“He’s your son,” Felix tries to continue. “In a manner of speaking. He has the Crest of Blaiddyd. He’s yours.”

He’s always been yours, Felix wants to say. In every way that matters, and now in blood as well. You’ve carried him in your arms, you’ve sung him to sleep, you’ve loved him so much, you’ve loved me—

But Dimitri just continues to stare, and the words refuse to leave Felix’s throat.

“They… used my eye,” Dimitri echoes after a long, painful silence. “That’s… possible?”

All Felix can offer is a helpless shrug. “You’ve seen what their technology is capable of. You’d have to ask Lysithea or Linhardt if you want to know how, but the important thing is that he’s—he’s a normal child.” Felix swallows, desperate to wipe that hollow look from Dimitri’s face but unsure how. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“Nothing wrong with him.” Dimitri laughs humorlessly. “Even after all this time, they still find ways to twist and pervert my family. Is it not enough that they killed them all? They have to—to manufacture creatures using what’s left of us?”

“Etienne’s not a creature,” Felix says sharply. “He’s a child. He wasn’t born of a human mother, but he’s yours, Dimitri. He’s your son.”

“And what a terrible father for him to have.” Dimitri buries his face in his hands. “Felix, you—how long have you known?”

“That he was born of you?” Felix shakes his head. “Less than a day. The circumstances of his creation…” He hesitates. “I found him in the lab you sent Hapi and me to investigate half a year ago. I didn’t… I couldn’t…” He stares at his clenched fists in his lap. “He was a child. He was alone. He deserved…”

“You took him in,” Dimitri finishes. “You told everyone he was yours so no one would suspect his origins. Oh, Felix…”

Felix barks a short laugh. “I wouldn’t say no one suspected anything. My father certainly had questions about where he came from, and Sylvain kept looking at me.” He lifts his head again to see Dimitri peering at him through the gaps in his fingers. He looks small. Defeated. All he can think is that he can’t stand to see Dimitri so weak, and he stands and loops around the desk without thinking.

“Felix,” Dimitri says, not quite a question.

Felix kneels before Dimitri, linking their hands in Dimitri’s lap. “I deceived you to protect him,” he says as softly as he can manage. “But learning he was yours—that he was born of your suffering, I—” He lowers his forehead to their tangled hands. “I couldn’t lie anymore,” he finishes. “He’s yours, Dimitri. In every way that matters.”

“Felix,” Dimitri repeats. His hands shift, freeing themselves from Felix’s to cup Felix’s cheeks instead. “Will you look at me?”

Felix’s throat bobs with a swallow. “Always,” he manages to choke out, and he lets Dimitri lift his head.

“He’s yours, too,” Dimitri says. “In as many ways as he’s mine. You—you love him as your own. You decided to raise him, even though he could have been a monster.”

“It didn’t matter.” Tiny skeletons. Subject 22. A silent child, wide-eyed and terrified. “He deserved to be cared for.”

Dimitri laughs helplessly. “He truly is my son, to have won your affection without doing a thing to earn it.”

“Stop it,” Felix snaps. “You don’t need to earn it. Neither of you do. You’re both—” He makes a noise of frustration. “You’re both so—”

“We’re what?” Dimitri’s thumbs brush across the tender skin beneath Felix’s eyes.

Felix doesn’t have an answer he can give in words. He surges up and crashes their lips together. Dimitri’s noise of surprise is muffled by the kiss, but he melts into it almost immediately, lips soft and clumsy against Felix’s equally inexperienced mouth.

Dimitri pulls Felix into his lap, and Felix goes, straddling Dimitri’s cursedly muscular thighs and wrapping his arms around Dimitri’s neck. The movement of Dimitri’s mouth against his becomes more confident, less messy, their lips and tongues learning each other as easily as Felix and Dimitri have ever learned each other.

“I thought—” Dimitri murmurs in the space between their lips. “When I saw Etienne, I thought I’d lost any chance I had with you.”

“Idiot,” Felix breathes back. “It’s only ever been you.”

Dimitri pulls back, just enough to meet Felix’s eyes. “That cannot possibly…”

“You’re a fool.” Felix tucks his face against Dimitri’s neck so he doesn’t have to see the dumbstruck look on Dimitri’s face as he continues. “I’ve never left your side. I never will. How could it ever be anyone but you?”

“Felix…” Dimitri presses his cheek to Felix’s hair. His arms slip around Felix’s back, holding Felix even closer. “It’s… it’s the same for me. Do you know why I’ve refused to speak of marriage to the council?”

Felix’s grip tightens on Dimitri’s shirt. He doesn’t like to be reminded of the pressure for Dimitri to find a wife.

“Because it could only ever be you,” Dimitri continues in a whisper. “You, and now Etienne. If you’ll have me, I’ll make you king alongside me. And as long as heirs continue to matter in Fódlan, Etienne will be our heir.”

Felix lets out an embarrassingly wet laugh. “If I’ll have you,” he echoes, lifting his head to meet Dimitri’s impossibly tender gaze. “Like I could ever answer anything but yes.”

“Felix,” Dimitri says. His voice is so soft with affection that Felix’s heart feels like it wants to fall out of his chest. “Are you sure?”

“Dimitri. Of course I’m sure. Have you ever known me to do anything I didn’t want to do?” Felix bumps their foreheads together.

Dimitri chuckles with a shake of his head and gives him another kiss, the smiling curve of his lips pressing against Felix’s.

It’s strange how Felix could be missing things from his life without knowing it until he has them. The Felix he was before Etienne is not the same Felix he became after – and the Felix he was before he kissed Dimitri and Dimitri kissed him back isn’t the same Felix he’s become now.

“My boar king,” Felix says. His lips and Dimitri’s brush with every word. “I love you with all of my foolish heart.”

Dimitri laughs, bright and unfettered and happier than Felix has ever heard him. “Felix. With all of my equally foolish heart, I love you too.”