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The crisp, frigid mornings of the Etheral Moon were Dimitri’s favorite. Perhaps it was because it was the month of his birth, but watching the sun peek over the horizon during said time of year had always felt special; it reminded him of fond times with his father. When he would rouse early as a child, Lambert would often cart his son along on his morning errands. As he took in the bustling city center from atop his father’s shoulders, Dimitri would marvele at the sight of snow falling from the seemingly endless sky. Although he knew (vaguely) of how condensation worked, his young mind would often conjure up fanciful explanations of what caused the phenomena: dander from giant sky beasts, a holy sculptor chipping away at a stone, the Goddesses diamond tears. Lambert would always praise his son for such imaginative pursuits, rewarding him with warm cocoa and a breakfast pastry if he was lucky. Later in the day, when he would inform Felix of his contemplations, the younger man would scoff and call him foolish. Still, Dimitri spent much of his free time daydreaming about such possibilities.
Although such thoughts seemed silly now, Fhirdiad hadn’t changed all that much in the 15 years since Dimitri had wandered the narrow streets with his father. Merchants still hollered loudly in an attempt to sell their wares, while young children played tag between their parents stalls. Perhaps the people had changed, had aged, had become hardened by war and sorrow, but the scene remained the same. City centers seemed to remain constant, regardless of circumstance or time.
His own life had been altered, of course; time had passed quickly following his days at the academy, with little time to think of anything but his own demons and the heady desires of the dead. Even when the veil of specters had been brushed from his visage, Dimitri’s focus had been entirely on restoring peace to Fódlan. Only now, after his coronation and marriage to the archbishop, was there time for the dust to settle and for him to divulge in old past-times.
Today was the first day he was truly setting foot into town due to less-than-dire circumstances. A number of people heavily involved in the war effort had come to celebrate their friend’s - and current King’s- birthday; although the festivities were not set to begin for several days, it served as a solid excuse to push off the work that suffocated many of them regularly. Although Dimitri felt a bit bashful about the entire situation (he still felt as if he did not deserve such respect and unconditional affection from his peers), he would be lying if he were to say he was displeased.
Today, the lot of them had decided to venture into Fhirdiad’s shopping district. While Felix and Sylvain were intent on settling a recent argument regarding which blacksmith produced the highest-quality weapons, the remainder of their group had tagged along for far more leisurely reasons. A number of the former blue-lions were fawning over tiny garments at one of the many stalls- apparently a seller of baby linens- deciding which of the fabrics would look best for a child with bright-red hair and dark eyes; only recently had Felix and Annette announced that they were expecting their first child, and a thrum of excitement had taken over their friend-group in the days since. Byleth was rarely one to be caught up in such festivities, having even opted out of choosing her own wedding decorations, but even she had been roped into deducing which fabric was softest.
While Dimitri was not entirely opposed to partaking in such merriment, the area was far too crowded for his liking. Despite having lived in close-quarters with hundreds of others during the war effort, congested areas still caused his anxiety to spike. Having not wanted to put a damper on everyone else’s day, he had tagged along with the intention of remaining on the sidelines. It seemed as if he had forgotten just how busy Fhirdiad could be, however, because there was barely a spare inch of room to be found.
In an attempt to quell his growing panic, the young king found himself trying to focus on small things: how the freshly-fallen snow felt melting in his palm, the sound of children’s feet crunching in the gravel, the smell of baking bread in the air. Dimitri scanned the hectic scene with his good eye, desperately searching for something to catch his attention.
Then, his gaze fell upon two figures awkwardly huddling in the shadow of a stack of crates. Both were lanky and appeared rather high-strung, reminiscent of what he looked like at 17. From the way one was shifting from foot-to-foot, eyes darting one way then another, Dimitri could only assume they were about the engage in some questionable activities. He felt his fingers clench into a fist as the taller of the two leaned in towards the other, long-hair falling into the space between right as they... rubbed their noses together.
Huh?
“Dimitri,” Byleth called as she approached, reaching out to grasp his hand with her own, “is something the matter? You seem concerned.”
“Beloved,” Dimitri greeted warmly, the corner of his lips tilting up just barely. “Concerned is perhaps too strong of word... curious may be a more appropriate description.”
Byleth hummed, attempting to follow her husbands gaze. “Is that so? What in particular has caught your eye?”
“Those kids,” Dimitri muttered, motioning vaguely towards the tucked-way couple with his free hand. “They keep rubbing their faces together, it’s very odd.”
A moment of silence passed as the King and Queen of Faerghus spied upon the unassuming teenage couple; although few noticed their pensive looks due to the overall business of the area, their actions were akin to predators stalking prey. When the the unassuming youths finally brushed noses again, Dimitri squeezed Byleth’s hand unwittingly.
“See, what did I tell you,” the blond remarked, shaking his head. “Such bizarre behavior.”
Byleth snorted in response, turning to face Dimitri more fully. “They’re just nose kissing, it’s really not that strange. I used to do it all the time as a child.”
Brows furrowed, Dimitri’s good eye glanced between Byleth and the couple in the dark corner. “I can’t say I’m entirety familiar with the concept.”
“I see,” Byleth replied, staring down blankly at where her hand was entwined with her husband; although she appeared stoic, there was a hint of surprise in her tone as she continued. “Sometimes you are unaware of the most random things, my love.”
“M-my priorities were simply elsewhere,” Dimitri choked out, attempting the hide the flush of his cheeks with a fake cough. “We are not all skirt-chasers like Sylvain, you know.”
Byleth hummed, amused, but said little else. The two enjoyed a few more moments of silence before she spoke again.
“Well, would you like to give it a try?”
Dimitri blanched, feeling the blush on his cheeks creep up into the tips of his ears. Byleth had never been shy about these sorts of things, and encouraged him to be more open with his affections as well; it was something the two of them were working on together. Wordlessly, he nodded.
Standing on the tips of her toes, Byleth leaned in towards his face, resting her hands on the plane of his chest. She brushed her nose lightly against his own, eliciting a sensation of pins and needles on the thin skin. His mind was soon directed elsewhere, however, when Byleth pressed a soft kiss to his lips; their mouths slotted together perfectly, as if sculpted by the Goddess herself.
“That,” Byleth whispered lowly, pulling back only enough to speak clearly; her breath was still warm against Dimitri’s cheek, “is what is commonly known as a ‘nose kiss.’”
Dimitri made a noise under his breath, a funny mix between a groan and a whimper, before pressing their lips together once more. The touch of their noses may have been fairly platonic, but the entire scenario had ignited something hot in his gut; small moments like this, in which Byleth took the time to cater to curiosities and desires, reminded him how fortunate he was to have her in his life. He may not deserve such a beautiful, passionate, and intelligent woman, but he still wanted her to know how much he adored her.
“Woohoo, that’s the spirit Your Highness!” A teasing voice called out, breaking Dimitri out of his reverie. “Public make-out sessions are hot.”
Head snapping around as if possessed, Dimitri leveled Sylvain with a dark glare; the blond was uncertain which was burning hotter, the flush on his face or the irritation bubbling in his chest.
“We can continue this later,” Byleth murmured quietly, squeezing Dimitri’s hand before moving to help Annette carry several bags of baby clothes. She appeared entirely unfazed by the ordeal, seemingly content to return to her previous activities. Dimitri, too, decided to revisit his attempts to find a stimulus to focus on, but this time it was to will down something a bit more notable than anxiety.