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English
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Part 1 of Dimitri/f!Byleth Oneshots
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Published:
2019-10-25
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2,516
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1/1
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Garland Moon

Summary:

Before the heavy rains take their toll, young people hurry to pick the last of the white roses. The ivory buds are woven into garlands and given as gifts to close friends or potential lovers.

Byleth agrees to go flower-picking with the girls of Blue Lion House. She has never made a white rose garland before... and she doesn't know what they mean.

Work Text:

“Professor,” Mercedes said innocently. “I was wondering…” Byleth looked up from the mess of papers on her desk. Mercedes and Annette were both smiling, which she had learned by now was something to watch out for. The fact that a sullen Ingrid was with them was only more worrying.

“What’s on your mind?” Byleth asked calmly, folding her hands over next week’s lesson plans. Manuela and Hanneman had given her a lot of help, but for a class of adults, each with their own specialities, knights, archers and magic users… she found herself knowing more than she thought she did, but it was still a struggle.

“Annette and I invited Ingrid to come and make garlands with us, and she thought we should ask you too,” Mercedes said, innocently toying with the end of her soft, mousy hair. Ingrid pulled a face.

“I said we should speak to the Professor first,” Ingrid said firmly, “in case there’s anything else she thought we should be doing today, instead.”

“But it would be so much fun if you came with us,” Annette added brightly, hands clasped against her chest.

Byleth stared for a moment. It had taken only a few minutes of being the Blue Lions’ teacher for her to realise she didn’t have to hide the things she didn’t know from them. Especially because Mercedes seemed to like answering, to like acting as a guiding sister to her. So she asked. “Why are you making garlands?”

“Why, because it’s the end of the rose season,” Mercedes answered gently. “Have you never done it before, Professor?”

Byleth shook her head. Annette practically launched herself over the desk, reaching for Byleth’s hand. “Then you have to come, Professor! Mercie took me to do this for the first time when we were at the school of sorcery in Fhirdiad together, and it’s so much fun. Please?”

Byleth knew it was dangerous when Mercedes and Annette smiled because she couldn’t say no to them, whatever they pleaded. Like the time she’d gotten the class caught in a downpour because they said it looked like such a nice day to have class outside. They’d still seemed mostly happy even after she’d turned it into a surprise lesson on swamp combat. Even after Sylvain’s horse had kicked mud all over them.

“I’m sure she’s too busy,” Ingrid said hurriedly. “We should all be busy, really, preparing for this month’s mission.”

“It’s fine,” Byleth said. “I can spare an hour. It’s good to take a break sometimes.” And it would be good to see Annette and Ingrid taking one, for once. Even Byleth’s own breaks were… hardly that. She’d spent her last day off helping Dimitri teach swordfighting to children around the monastery, even if it was a break compared to her classwork. People used to pay her or the other mercenaries to teach their children – sometimes in coin, sometimes in room and board – if Jeralt’s mercenaries had to stop somewhere for a few days. Teaching the basics was instinct to her by now, and Dimitri was always kind, and more grateful than she thought he needed to be. Byleth quickly sorted her papers into her drawer and let Annette take her hand again, and lead her out.

She supposed she should have noticed it was flower season, from the townspeople and merchants wearing them. Surely it was something she’d asked, or had explained to her, by Jeralt at some point in the past. But she couldn’t remember. Could Sothis?

“I don’t know why you’d expect me to know,” Sothis commented sniffily, from the back of her skull.

“So, what are the garlands for?” Byleth asked, looking ahead to Mercedes. “A church festival?”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Mercedes laughed. “It’s just a tradition. You give them to a close friend, or… someone else important to you.”

“Oh, okay,” Byleth replied. She’d barely escaped an earful from Seteth last time, having assumed the night of the religious feast was just another day off. She had only ended up attending because she’d run into Dimitri on the way to the fishing pond. In that overly-formal way of his, he’d asked if she would allow him to walk her to the dining hall. Took the blame for their lateness on himself, when Seteth narrowed his eyes at them. She still wasn’t sure if that was for her sake, or simply how he was. He’d spent the evening asking her questions about her life before Garreg Mach. She was ashamed at how little she remembered, but she’d tried her best. And apologised, for not being the most interesting companion. He’d shaken his head, in earnest. There is no need to apologise, Professor. I must seem like I’m interrogating you. How are you finding the monastery?

The four of them passed Sylvain on the way out of the gates. Byleth waved, but he didn’t notice. He was wearing four garlands across his shoulders, and trying to escape a shouting match with a woman holding a fifth.

“I should probably do something,” Ingrid sighed. Byleth reached out to take her arm, making a chain with Annette on her opposite side.

“Sylvain knows what he’s doing,” she said.

Ingrid grimaced. “That’s exactly the problem.”

But Ingrid didn’t pull away. Mercedes led them down the hill, through the sparse late-season flower patches. They sat on the grass, still damp from the last storm. The sky was cloudy, but it wouldn’t rain soon.

“Have you done this before, Ingrid?” Annette asked excitedly, lounging casually across the grass.

“I… once,” Ingrid replied, voice tight.

Byleth caught Annette wincing, as they both realised it was clearly a sore point a little too late.

“Then, perhaps you can show the Professor what to do?” Mercedes said carefully, gesturing across at the flowers nearest Ingrid.

Ingrid took the distraction. “It’s pretty straightforward,” she said briskly. Her movements were firm, cautious, pragmatic, as she plucked a flower and slowly showed Byleth how to make a rose-stem into a loop, and how to knot the next flower through.

“Like this?” Byleth said, feeling a strange joy as she copied Ingrid’s movements. Something flickered, at the corner of her memory. Jeralt’s rough hands, showing her how to knot rope, how to hitch the horses and secure the tents. Ingrid’s fingers tested the garland, the way Byleth’s hands tested Ingrid’s bowstrings.

“It’ll hold,” Ingrid replied.

Byleth thought her work looked neat, until she looked across to the ones Mercedes and Annette were making. They barely seemed to need to look at what they were doing, Annette’s hands moving almost frantically, and Mercedes’ with languid grace. Byleth’s garland would be clumsy in comparison, but she didn’t mind. It was relaxing, sitting out here with them.

“Who are you going to give your garland to, Professor?” Mercedes asked.

Byleth blinked. A close friend, or someone else important to you. Who would want to receive such a gift from her? She wasn’t exactly known for her warmth, or friendliness. “I suppose I might give it to my father,” she replied mildly. “What about you?”

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, Professor,” Mercedes smiled. “I’m going to give mine to my best friend Annette, of course.”

Annette beamed. “Mercie, I was going to give mine to you too!”

“Are you going to give yours to one of your friends?” Byleth asked, turning to Ingrid.

“I don’t think Sylvain needs any more,” Ingrid scoffed. “And I…” Byleth could sense another storm falling across Ingrid. “I wouldn’t give one to Felix.”

“What about Dimitri?” Byleth asked quickly.

Annette started laughing. “Oh Professor, everyone knows he—"

Ingrid started coughing. Mercedes… seemed to join in? Or perhaps they were laughing, or… both? Byleth looked between them, confused. “Girls, is everything okay?”

“Oh, we’re—we’re just fine, Professor,” Mercedes said.

Byleth nodded. “As you were saying, Annette. Everyone knows what?” Ingrid looked like she was going to die.

“Nothing,” Annette said immediately.

“Everyone knows he… is like family to me,” Ingrid croaked, when she’d recovered.

“Yes, you’re old friends,” Byleth said. What was she missing here? Ingrid was obviously hiding something, this was an awfully strong reaction for it to be something she already knew.

“I don’t think he’d want one from me, is all,” Ingrid said. “Because we’re like… family.”

“What do you mean?” Byleth asked. Was it wrong to give one to someone who was like family? Should she not give hers to Jeralt?

“Oh, let me have a look at your crown, Professor!” Mercedes interrupted. Byleth must have said the wrong thing, by mentioning Dimitri, but she couldn’t understand why. Clearly, she still had a lot to learn about her students. She let Mercedes lift the crown from her fingers.

“How long does it need to be?” Byleth asked.

“Wow, this is beautiful, Professor.” Mercedes brought it into a loop with her long, pale fingers. “And this should be enough, I think. Do you want me to finish it for you?”

“No, just show me when you’re finishing yours,” Byleth replied, shaking her head. “If this is the first time I’m making one of these, I… I’d like to finish it myself.”

“I’m so excited we get to share this with you, Professor,” Annette piped up. “I mean, I didn’t think we’d get to teach you something.”

Byleth found herself smiling. She copied the movements of Mercedes’ hand as she looped the two ends of the garland together. Byleth settled the finished garland on her own head, to see if it would stay put. It did.

“Ingrid, why don’t you wear mine and give yours to Annette?” Mercedes suggested. “If you’re not sure what to do with such a pretty crown. We’re all friends, after all.”

“Are you sure?” Ingrid said, eyes going wide. “Mine’s definitely not as pretty as yours.”

“No, it’s so elegant!” Annette insisted. “Like you!”

“O-oh,” Ingrid stammered. “Well, if you’re really sure…”

Ingrid held out her crown, and Mercedes in turn insisted on placing hers on Ingrid’s head. It was like something from one of Ashe’s books, the gentle lady granting her knight a favour. Annette copied her, holding her crown aloft so that Mercedes could duck her head under it. Mercedes laughed softly, and Ingrid’s tense frown loosened.

“There, I think we can all be happy this way,” Mercedes said. “Though I suppose we should think about heading back, right Professor?”

Byleth nodded slightly, careful not to disturb the crown as she climbed to her feet. She took each of the girls by the hand and helped them up, one at a time. Mercedes last, as she seemed the most comfortable. And led her petal-haired students back towards Garreg Mach, through the dreamy afternoon.

Sylvain had left the market by the time they returned. The same woman was arguing with Felix, now, as Ashe and Dedue browsed the vegetable stall to take their turn at dinner. Byleth led the girls onwards, back towards the classroom where they’d found her.

“Professor, there you are!”

It was Dimitri. Byleth paused, as his quick footsteps crossed the courtyard to meet her. He looked rather hurried, and as if he’d only noticed there were four of them when they turned around.

“Oh, Dimitri,” Byleth said. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were looking for me.”

“It’s no trouble, Professor.” He gave an awkward bow. “I was thinking about the problem we had with the horses last class, and I think I have a solution. I wanted to run it past you, but I…” He straightened. “It’s your day off. It was thoughtless of me to bother you with this when it can wait for tomorrow.”

Byleth shook her head. “It’s fine, Dimitri. I can make time for you.” She paused. Mercedes and Annette were watching her intently, and Ingrid looked like she wanted to disappear into a hole. She couldn’t figure out why. She took the crown from her head, and held it out.

“Your classmates showed me how to make these,” Byleth said. “Apparently it’s tradition to give them to someone important. You’ve given so much of your time to helping me settle here, and looking out for all your classmates, that I’d… like to give it to you as thanks for all your help.”

Ingrid started choking again. Dimitri’s eyes had gone wide, and his face a strange shade of red. Byleth had made a mistake again, she knew it. She just didn’t understand why. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her own face turning hot. “This is inappropriate, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to treat you all as peers as we, discussed, but…”

“It’s fine,” Dimitri rasped. He bowed again. “I—I’m happy to accept this token of friendship.”

But he seemed hesitant to take it from her, his gloved hands held flat and trembling, refusing to close his fingers around the garland as she lay it across his palms. “Sorry,” he said stiffly. “I’m afraid to ruin your fine work.”

“Ah, because of your gloves,” Byleth guessed. She mimicked Annette and Mercedes, and lifted her hands to place the garland on her head himself. Her wrists brushed his temples as she nested it in his hair, a shuddering sigh escaping his lips as her skin touched his. She stepped back, pressing her hands against her sides.

“Th-thank you,” Dimitri stammered. He still seemed embarrassed. The white petals and green leaves against his straw-coloured hair, its softness strangely suited him. She only wished she hadn’t managed to make such awkwardness out of what she thought was a kind gesture. Perhaps that was it, that she’d made a scene in front of his friends. Not everybody liked to be praised. Dimitri had often struck her as oddly humble, for a noble.

“I still have time, if you still wanted to talk about your classwork,” Byleth said.

“Yes, of course,” Dimitri replied quickly, long-lashed eyes fluttering open.

“Ingrid, perhaps you’d like to join us? I expect this will also apply to your pegasus,” Byleth suggested.

“If that’s agreeable to His Highness,” Ingrid replied. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you.” She was—smiling? Byleth really, really didn’t understand. Perhaps this was something she’d ask Mercedes to explain, the next time they went into town together. Byleth was aware that she was messy with people, and Mercedes had a gentle way of understanding that Byleth found helpful.

“We’ll be discussing classwork, Ingrid,” Dimitri said firmly. “So of course you’d be welcome.”

“Well then, Mercedes, Annette,” Byleth said, turning to bid farewell to the two mages. “Thank you for inviting me along for such a lovely afternoon.”

The two girls waved, and Byleth heard them return to their bright, good-natured laughter as she walked away. Dimitri was still red, Ingrid was still grinning, and Byleth was still confused. This, much harder, much stranger than teaching children to swordfight… still, she adored them. And hard work as it was… whatever fog had fallen over her memories from before she met Sothis, this, at least, seemed to be lifting it. Her students excitement and, lingering longer than she had expected in the corner of her mind, Dimitri’s gentle, nervous smile.

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