#like please fuck off lmao we deal with enough gatekeeping to have it within the community

[vvelegrin]

don't argue about tourette's on facebook don't argue about tourette's on facebook DON'T ARGUE ABOUT TOURETTE'S ON FACEBOOK AAAHHHH

[queenmorgawse]

loving you is my gift tonight

missgoneril : there’s so much going on in that pic i don’t even know where to start fearthedeer : you gotta be more specific. is it dima? his parents in a two-person sweater?? the piglet in a fluffy hat they put on the armchair??? missgoneril : i missgoneril : the holy kingdom of faerghus has actually been on crack this whole time, in this essay i will -

or, some good old-fashioned holidays fluff ft. dimiclaude in modern fodlan.

READ ON AO3.

The envelope arrives a week or so before Saint Cichol’s Day. It’s made of creamy, off-white paper and sealed with an actual wax seal bearing the griffin knight of Faerghus, because royals apparently have to be extra even with something as mundane as sending holiday cards.

It’s actually addressed to Claude’s mother ( President Juliette von Riegan, the envelope reads in elegant, swirling script), but as First Son of the Leicester Alliance, Claude considers himself plenty qualified to snatch it up from the pile of holidays-related mail and whisk it off to his room.

He flops down onto his bed before breaking open the seal. The card inside is just as fancy as the exterior, done up in dark blue and silver highlights, and it’s the funniest thing Claude’s seen all week.

Now, the Faerghan royal family has been sending Saint Cichol’s cards to the von Riegans since the beginning of his mother’s presidency, so this is nothing out of the ordinary. It also doesn’t say anything special, besides Merry Saint Cichol’s day & best wishes from House Blaiddyd in embossed letters.

What is new, however, is that this time, it doesn’t have  one of the Blaiddyds’ formal state portraits front and center. Sure enough, King Lambert and Queen Patricia are posing, flashing toothpaste-ad-worthy smiles at the camera, but there the resemblance comes to a brutal stop.

The photo features Dimitri, clad in possibly the gaudiest holiday sweater Claude’s ever seen. As per ugly sweater tradition, it sports an unholy amount of red and green, but nothing can dethrone the roaring lion’s head emblazoned over Dimitri’s torso, myriads of multicolored lights haphazardly sewn into its mane.

And he still manages to look like Prince Charming straight out of a collector’s edition of Fódlan’s Fables, because Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is unfairly photogenic like that.

Seiros, life is unfair. Or maybe it isn't, because it’s given him a boyfriend who miraculously still looks good while looking like he’s been hit and run over by a garlands-filled truck.

Because he’s the most loyal best friend anyone could ask for, Claude sits up, holds the card to the lamp on his bedside table, snaps a picture and sends it to Hilda. Her reply is almost instantaneous.

missgoneril : there’s so much going on in that pic i don’t even know where to start

fearthedeer : you gotta be more specific. is it dima? his parents in a two-person sweater?? the piglet in a fluffy hat they put on the armchair???

missgoneril : i

missgoneril : the holy kingdom of faerghus has actually been on crack this whole time, in this essay i will -

fearthedeer : LMAO

fearthedeer : fr tho i think it’s sweet

missgoneril : you have them rose-tinted glasses ON i see

fearthedeer : bold words coming from miss hilda ‘do you think dimitri’s hot blonde bodyguard will text me back?’ goneril

You can no longer send direct messages to this person.

Claude snorts and taps out of the conversation. Not a week goes by that Hilda doesn’t block him at least once. Whatever the reason - from posting their kindergarten playdates pictures on the Golden Deer group chat to that time he jokingly hit on her brother -, she always ends up unblocking him within the hour.

In the meantime, there’s someone else he wants to talk to. Claude flips to the second topmost conversation on his phone, lays back and starts typing.

fearthedeer : on ur way to light up all of fhirdiad by urself i see

hrhdima : I take it you’ve received our holidays well-wishes.

fearthedeer : it’s the BEST how did you not tell me about this before

hrhdima : Mother and Father wanted a ‘fun’ photo to go with our usual ones. I didn’t know they would actually use it for anything official.

fearthedeer : give whoever made that decision a raise bc they just made my entire week

hrhdima : You don’t think it’s silly?

fearthedeer : well.

fearthedeer : yes i do

fearthedeer : it’s definitely dorky

fearthedeer : but since it has you in it it’s dorky cute

fearthedeer : why are u not saying anything

fearthedeer : i told u u gotta learn to accept a compliment!!

hrhdima : Thank you, my dear. I had to take a few moments to compose myself.

fearthedeer : SEIROS

fearthedeer : HOW ARE YOU SO FUCKING ADORABLE 😭

hrhdima : 😳😳

fearthedeer : if i were here you BET i’d be kissing your cheeks

fearthedeer : but alas, the day’s just started for ur local first son

hrhdima : What’s the first thing on the list?

fearthedeer : visiting a kids’ hospital i’m pretty sure! hilda and i have some Clownery planned so i sure hope they’ll laugh

hrhdima : I’m sure they will. If you end up filming, I’d love to see it.

fearthedeer : eager to see me embarrass myself huh

hrhdima : Claude! Of course not!

fearthedeer : flames, i was kidding!! of course i’ll send u the vid!

hrhdima : Oh.

hrhdima : Good luck with...the clownery?

fearthedeer : thanks, good luck with what you have to do too <3

hrhdima : Thank you. Speaking of which, can I call you later? Ingrid’s banging down my door about the holidays address right now.

fearthedeer : sure!! have fun at rehearsal, romance that sweet sweet mic for me 😘😘

hrhdima : Claude, please.

fearthedeer : u love me

hrhdima : I do.

hrhdima : I wish we could see each other more, especially at this time of the year. I miss you a great deal.

fearthedeer : wtf you can’t just say stuff like that

hrhdima : We’re quite literally dating.

fearthedeer : STILL

fearthedeer : anyway don’t you worry your pretty royal head over it

fearthedeer : it’s time for a secret scheme >:)

hrhdima : Claude. What does this mean.

fearthedeer : ;)

hrhdima has sent a vocal message.

Hi Claude, this is Ingrid. Sorry for interrupting you guys, but Dimitri has an address to practice, so I had to take his phone away for the time being. Will give it back when he’s done. Say hello to Hilda for me!

fearthedeer : dedue wouldn’t do this to me

---

missgoneril : SWEET BABY SEIROS SHE SAID WHAT

---

“...And with that, my dear citizens, all that's left for me to do is wish you a Merry Saint Cichol's day. Hold your loved ones close, so that they might share the holidays' cheers with you. I know I will.”

Dimitri flashes the camera another bright smile before the operator signals to him that they're done filming. From the treshold, Sylvain gives him a thumbs-up, and Dedue an approving nod. Only then does Dimitri allow himself to relax, shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

It isn't the address that bothers him, nor the ever-present fear of slipping up in front of millions of Faerghus citizens on live television. He's been groomed in protocol for public appearances, virtual or not, since he was old enough to walk. No, it's the creeping realization that, year after year, he gives a little more time to the people, and keeps a little less to himself.

It's selfish, which is precisely why Dimitri's only vaguely mentioned it even to his closest friends. They'd whisk him off to some holiday destination at the speed of light if he asked, he knows, but it doesn't feel right to shirk his duties — even though Sylvain wouldn't call it shirking, only giving himself a well-deserved break.

After a few minutes of idle chatter with the camera crew - Dimitri's made it a habit to try and get to know everyone he works with, to the point he can now ask after some of the operators' children by name -, he finally steps out of the royal office requisitioned for the occasion. When he idly checks his phone, the screen flashes with half a dozen notifications : a picture of Felix and Ingrid on St Cichol's shopping (presumably for Glenn), some last minute recommendations from both his father and Duke Fraldarius, and…

fearthedeer : hey hey hey

fearthedeer : dima

fearthedeer : u should go get some fresh air 😜

fearthedeer : (front gate. hurry!!!)

fearthedeer : i see u typing. why don’t u walk faster instead

Dimitri picks up the pace, until he’s almost flying past the castle’s front gates and into the main courtyard. At first, nothing seems more out of the ordinary : the gatekeepers even shoot him perplexed looks as their crown prince stares out, half disheveled, at the snow-covered cobblestones.

Then a nondescript black cab pulls up, somehow unbothered by security checks, and everything suddenly pieces itself together.

Dimitri’s down the staircase before anyone can stop him, right as the cab’s door open and a silhouette clad in a vibrant yellow sweater steps out. Claude’s barely finished handing the driver a tip when Dimitri comes to a brutal stop just a few steps from him, heart beating wildly against his ribcage.

They exchange pictures pretty much everyday, but there’s an inherent brilliance to Claude a screen can’t capture. It’s something, Dimitri thinks, in the way his smile blooms first over his lips then reaches all the way to his eyes. Every time, it’s like watching the sun rise.

Claude opens his arms. Wordlessly, Dimitri lets himself be drawn into his embrace, curls around him and breathes in the fresh scent of pine needles.

Eventually, he finds it in himself to step back. His hands stay firmly planted on Claude’s shoulders, grounding himself in the other’s presence. “It really is you.”

Claude grins and tips an imaginary hat at him. “The one and only.”

“Flames, I—” Dimitri takes a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. “How...when did you get here?”

“On a plane this morning. And before you ask, it wasn't on taxpayers' money,” Claude quips.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted to see you, but why now?” Dimitri’s brain frantically cycles through their relationship milestones. Their anniversary’s in early summer, and Claude’s birthday isn’t for another few months, and⎯

Claude gently takes his face into his hands, tiptoeing a little to rest their foreheads together, and Dimitri’s mind comes to a standstill.

“Hey, calm down, okay? You’re overthinking everything again.” Claude pauses, breathes in, breathes out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m a little late for your birthday?”

Oh. It’s true. His birthday, a national holiday. How did it slip his mind again?

As if able to read his mind, Claude chuckles. “Really, I just wanted to see you again. In person. I already meant it to be a Saint Cichol’s surprise, and our texts the other day were just...additional motivation, if you will.”

“You’re amazing,” Dimitri says, as earnest as he’s ever been. This time, it’s Claude’s turn to blush, a rosy flush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. It offers a nice contrast to the paleness of the snowflakes that have started accumulating in his hair, dusting his dark curls with white.

It occurs to Dimitri that perhaps they should have had this conversation inside.

“Come,” he tells Claude, slinging an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders to steer him back towards the castle’s warmth. “You must be freezing.”

Claude snorts and tucks his chin down into the collar of his coat. “Only because your country considers negative temperature to be mild weather.”

“It’s only starting to get chilly, really⎯” Dimitri cuts himself off when Claude shoots him a half-exasperated, half-fond look.

Before he can fumble himself into another clumsy explanation, Claude tugs him down by the lapels of his jacket and presses a kiss to his lips. It courses through him like lightning, all the way down to the tips of his toes, and it lingers even after Claude pulls away.

“Well, you’re here to keep me warm, aren’t you? Lead the way.”

Like this, his love is bright and lovely, the great hall’s flickering hearth painting him in broad strokes of honey and gold.

Dimitri takes Claude’s hand, and follows.