In the past years since the war had ended, speculation of a relationship between the King of Faerghus and the King of Almyra had been popular gossip among the people.
With the King of Alymra making frequent visits, the people saw more and more of the bond between
the two kings not to mention the rumors already spread about the two during their academy days. There was ever-climbing support in favor of the two leaders further uniting the nations as one through marriage instead of diplomatic treaties.
It was painfully obvious how close the
two were, a relationship was only natural in their eyes.
Byleth had heard the people for months and decided that it was time for an intervention.
He had gone to confront the two kings during the many diplomatic meetings the two held in their private rooms. He
knocked twice and waited, not hearing a confirmation to come in. He went in anyway because this was an important matter and he was sure the two would excuse his intruding.
He was not expecting to find Dimitri standing in the corner, both palms to the wall while Claude stood
sandwiched between Dimitri and the wall. He thought for a second that they were locked in a heated argument but a sudden noise from Claude quickly changed that thought.
Byleth blushed when he realized what the two were doing and could understand now why they did not hear him
knock; too busy were the Kings in their passionate battle for dominance against the other’s lips.
Byleth quietly crept out of the room as Dimitri’s hands came off the wall and settled for pulling Claude close to his body. The last thing he heard before he closed the door was
the sound of a heavy cape falling to the floor and a breathless laugh.
The people would be pleased with the news.
• • •
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The candle he had left on from last night’s reading was long extinguished. A pile of dried wax overflowed on his desk.
He focused on the sound of the birds chirping and the wind blowing outside.
He should get up. He should bathe, get dressed, and
greet the day. But he stayed in bed for a little more than he needed, not enough to cause others to worry, but just enough so that he had time to convince himself to get up. The spot beside him was cold.
The manor was quiet. No disciples. No surprise visitor. No one but his
husband. A blessing.
Down the hall, Shen Qiao walked in his direction, a pile of scrolls held against his chest.
“Good morning, Yan-zongzhu” Shen Qiao greeted warmly as he always did.
And Yan Wushi smiled, as he always did, and took the scrolls off of Shen Qiao’s hands. They