King of Fodlan
Dimitri fumbled with the clasp of his cloak. His fingers didn't want to cooperate today. It had taken longer than normal for him to dress in the silver lined black garments laid out for him this morning. He had refused breakfast, afraid even one bite would disagree with his twisted stomach, and instead hunger pangs had ravaged him for hours. Better to be in pain than ill, he reasoned.
Examining himself in the mirror, he frowned, unsure if he could go through with today. He would much rather be on the battlefield. Maybe he should just cancel the event. Or get someone else to speak in his stead? Sylvain could charm the people. Or maybe he could postpone it for a few weeks, reach out to Claude, and have him come back? He was always well-spoken in front of everyone after all.
A gentle knock sounded on the door and Byleth stepped in, already dressed in her lily white archbishop robe. She still moved a little uncomfortable in it, much more at home in her mercenary clothes. "Still not ready?" she asked with a wry grin.
"Just about," he said, already feeling more at ease. Every time he stared at those luminescent eyes of hers, all his cares and worries just drifted away, and he could only draw nearer to her.
"Allow me," she said, reaching for the clasp and attaching it easily. She patted her husband's chest and gave him a once-over. "Not too bad, my liege."
His arms circled her waist and he leaned in for a kiss. "And you're ravishing as ever, my lady." All too quickly though, her outfit reminded him of the event today and he looked at back at the mirror. "Must we go through this?"
"If you're going to rule over all of Fodlan," she said, flattening out the creases on his shoulders, "it will help to present yourself to the people and address them. You can't hide away."
"I know that," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, no longer trusting himself to stand. "What about the speech?" he asked, fishing for something that could go awry.
"I already told you last night," she said. "Seventeen times. The speech is good."
"But does it speak to the people? Is it uplifting for them?" he asked. He threw his legs over the bed and leaned over, reaching for the nearby nightstand. "Here, let me read it once more."
"Dimitri, get off the bed. You're going to wrinkle your clothes."
He sat back up, parchment in hand, and cleared his throat. " 'Good people of Fodlan. I come to you on this glorious day, humbled and grateful that you would accept me as your king.'"
"Do you really want to assume it's a glorious day for them?" She crossed her arms. "They were defeated after all."
"You may have a point." He skimmed the rest of the speech. Where else had he errored? Should he rewrite it?
"Dimitri, I'm joking," she said, snatching the parchment out of his hands. "The speech is great." She took his hand and held it up, playing with his fingers. "What's wrong?"
He started to say, "It's nothing," but the piercing gaze she always gave him ended that excuse before he could finish. He sighed and curled his hand around hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's just, I don't know how the people will react."
"Yes, you do," she said. "They've already accepted you, remember?"
He shook his head. "That was the people of Faerghus. Adrestia and Leicester are much different."
She hummed softly. "You're worried because Faerghus separated from Adrestia."
"And Leicester broke off from us," he finished. "Between that and the war, I wouldn't be surprised if they reject me as their king and things descend into chaos again."
"That's why you have your lovely wife presenting you to the people," she said, chuckling.
It didn't help though. He tapped his foot nervously, already anticipating how he should respond if things didn't go well. Should they double the guard? But that wouldn't inspire confidence in the people. Then they would know he expected a revolt of some kind.
"Dimitri," she said, her fingers brushing his cheek. "We've been over this. Claude left Leicester in your hands. He believed you could be a good king and lead them. If not, why would he leave?"
As always, she was correct. Yet that still left the other side. "Adrestia-"
"Was in an awful place. You've worked non-stop with them to rebuild their infrastructure and lift them out of the dark place they were in after Edelgard's death. There may be some who are still loyal to her, but the majority are happy to have you as their king."
He leaned into her hand. How was it that when he outlined and explained the facts to himself, that did nothing to assuage his fears? But hearing it from her scattered them like dandelions in the wind?
Another short knock interrupted them and Dedue poked his head in. "It's time, Your Highness."
"Be right there," he said. The knight bowed his head and shut the door.
"Well," Dimitri slapped his thighs and stood up, still a little wobbly, "guess we better go."
Byleth locked her arm around his and patted his shoulder. "I'll be with you every step of the way."
"Good," he said, chuckling. "I couldn't do this otherwise."
She shook her head and pulled him down for a kiss. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."
"Maybe," he said, returning the kiss and earning an amused giggle from her in turn. He always did treasure that sound. He pecked her forehead as he turned the door handle. "Although with you, I'm invincible."
"Shall we then?"
He smiled, still nervous, yet feeling bolder than he had before. "Yes, let's."