Edelgard’s hands are small. They always have been.
Dimitri notes that much when she places her hands over hers, palms flat against his. He sees how her fingertips barely reach the lines of his fingers, and yet when he closes over her hands their fingers intertwine and they just fit . It’s always been that way -- it has been since they were children and when he would lead her around Fhirdiad, hands joined and he constantly looked back so that he wouldn’t lose her in the crowds they passed.
The gesture has always remained the same, from back then to now. It remains when they sit under one of the trees in the courtyard together, unseen by their classmates and they take in the sounds of the birds chirping and overhead, the sounds of pegasi whinnying accompanied by the flapping of their wings. Edelgard sits between his legs, back resting up against his chest, and their hands remained joined together, palms flat and fingers intertwined (as they should be).
He moves ever so slightly to look at the expressions on her face. Her head is lowered, eyes fixed on their joined hands before her and the moment he tugs at her hands she lifts her head and allows him to rest his head over hers. If he looks down, he sees that she’s focused up ahead now.
“Something on your mind?” he asks, thumbs rubbing soothingly over the tops of her hands.
“Things won’t always be like this,” she responds, and it’s ominous and so unclear and yet the way she says it is so soft it both warms his heart and terrifies him at the same time. Edelgard doesn’t always dwell on these sorts of things, he knows that much. His hands tighten around hers; that always brings her back.
“What makes you think that?”
“You know what they say. We don’t know what the future brings.”
“That’s true.” Dimitri mulls it over for a moment, his head remaining on hers. “You asked that we stay like this together once.” His chin tilts up when he feels her head come up slightly. W hen had she asked that of him , is what her actions ask instead of words. He nestles his nose into her hair. a long time ago .
“...We can save that conversation for later,” he amends, and he’s slightly thankful that she doesn’t poke or prod. Instead she sits there with him in silence, the heat radiating between them against her back from his chest and their hands remain clasped in each other’s, fingers laced, and there’s nothing but the sound of the pegasi and the birds above them.
Edelgard is the first to break the silence asking, “Do you still want to?”
“Stay together. like this.”
Dimitri has to admit that it’s a given that he wants to; at the same time, though, they’ve changed. Their objectives are different. Who knew if she still wanted to stay like that. If she didn’t remember asking, there must have been some sort of change in her plans that occurred while they were apart from each other.
“I know I want to,” he buries his nose into her hair, taking in the scent of roses, honey and the slightest hint of bergamot. “Do you still want to?” he throws her question back at her. He’s not entirely sure of her intentions for the time being, after all.
“For right now, I want to.”
That seemed fair enough for him, he thinks, when she curls up against him and keeps their hands clasped together, palms flat and fingers intertwined, as they always have been.
(Her hands are small, he notes once again, and he brings them up to his lips.)
“Alright," he promises her. "We’ll stay like this for right now.”