Chapter Text
When Rodrigue had been a young lad, he had been able to recover from injuries like it was nothing— but now the years were taking their toll on him, and even months later, he found himself wincing when he turned the wrong way getting out of the bed in the morning, and on days when a storm was approaching the wound ached and burned like fire.
As he and Lambert roamed the Monastery, every so often Lambert would have to stop and wait for him to catch up, because on that particular day the damn thing decided to ache with every other step.
“My apologies, my love,” he said as he caught up to him for perhaps the fifth time since they had started their walk. “It seems I can never quite escape this damn thing.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Rodrigue.” Lambert reached out to take his hand, and when Rodrigue offered his, Lambert drew it to his mouth so he could press a kiss to his knuckles.
Even though the two of them had been expressing their affection towards each other openly ever since Rodrigue had returned from the war front and the two of them had decided that no amount of criticism was too heavy a burden to bear in exchange for being able to be together, it still flustered him when Lambert was so unabashedly affectionate with him.
Then again, things had always been that way— even back when they were in the Academy and Lambert would come up with some excuse or another to rest his head on his shoulder so he could scent him “without being too obvious”, even though Rodrigue told him a hundred times he was being absolutely ridiculous if he thought anyone was the least bit unaware of what he was doing.
“You don’t need to push yourself, you know. We can call it a day if you want.”
“No, no. Honestly, it won’t improve if I baby it forever. But I wouldn’t mind if we took a little break… Perhaps out in the courtyard?”
It was nearing summer, and though Faerghus didn’t get the temperate summers that Leicester and Adrestia did, it was a welcome change from the bitter chill of winter.
Now that the war was over and the both of them had retired, Lambert leaving the throne to Dimitri and Rodrigue leaving the Fraldarius dukedom to Glenn and Miklan, the two of them spent a great deal more time simply enjoying each others’ company. As far as Rodrigue was concerned— and he was sure Lambert felt the same— it was more than welcome; they had a great deal of catching up to do, after having been forced to conceal themselves for so long.
As they made their way to the courtyard so that the two of them could continue to leisurely enjoy each others’ company in the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun, Rodrigue paused by a window that gave him a perfect view into the courtyard.
They weren’t the only ones enjoying the weather on that fine day.
Towards the tail end of the war, their family— now unified, at the time in spirit, and now in legal measure as he and Lambert had quietly wed after they had given up their posts to their sons— had been granted yet another blessing.
Rodrigue would have laid his life down to save Dimitri’s without a moment’s hesitation— and would have done the same for Felix, Glenn, Lambert, or anyone else he cared for.
But he was certainly glad he had survived to see a rather frazzled Dimitri striving to keep his son Daichi from eating fistfuls of grass that he had pulled up from the ground.
Daichi’s other father and Dimitri’s mate (though unsurprisingly there had been those who had tried to contest the point, saying that only an alpha and an omega could be mates) Dedue was sitting nearby, seemingly quite amused by Dimitri’s attempts at wrangling their child.
It wasn’t to say Faerghus was in any way better than it had been when he and Lambert had been young, but the fact that he had lived long enough to see his son— the one who had not even known he was his father until little over a year ago— be able to bask in the sun with his own child and mate heedless of those who felt both were improper?
It made his heart swell, to be certain.
And his heart swelled even more when he saw Felix appear from an archway, walking right over to Dimitri just as he managed to get Daichi to relinquish his earthy prize. Though his middle child had been uncomfortable with his nephew at first— as Felix was just, in general, not good with children— now he had at least grown accustomed enough to him to walk up and take him from Dimitri’s arms, all while saying something Rodrigue couldn’t hear but which he was sure was lovingly mocking, knowing Felix.
Just as he reached up to touch the spot on his neck where Lambert had bit him to seal them together for life all those years ago, Lambert rolled up next to him and gently took him once more by the hand, pausing only to kiss his knuckles once more before saying,
“Well? Shall we join them?”
His mating mark gave a dull thrum— not the aching pulse that he had once associated with his longing for the mate he could not have, but a comforting reminder of its existence.
Of the fact that, against all odds and after so many struggles, he was there. He was alive; Lambert was alive. They could be together, and be with their children together.
Rodrigue turned the tables on Lambert by bringing his hand up to his mouth to return the kiss to his knuckles.
“Yes, my love,” he said softly. “I believe we shall.”