ao3 handle: yeosakoi

she loves me (she loves me not)

Maybe, he can even gift Byleth a cluster of violets… Maybe, he can see her mesmerizing smile once again, the smile he'd been witness to after they had successfully recovered Flayn and driven away the Flame Emperor, maybe-

Maybe, he needs a new hobby.

(or: byleth and dimitri plant flowers together)

The violets are doing well.

Dimitri gently fingers at the purple petals, ensuring the leaves are a healthy green and the crowns aren't rotting. He doesn't know the first thing about plants—he's going off of whatever he had picked up from Dedue the last time they had planted flowers.

Dedue had offered to come with him to tend to the violets, but Dimitri had refused him politely and told him to do whatever he wished to do for the remainder of the day. Dedue had reluctantly agreed with an "as you wish, Your Highness," (the retainer still refused to call him by his name, to Dimitri's disappointment) and had lumbered off to clean Dimitri's room, which had made him wince. It had been not exactly what he had in mind, but he supposes it's an improvement that the other hadn't staunchly refused to do things out of his own will.

And besides, Dimitri is determined to successfully grow and present these violets to his classmates all on his own, if only for his own satisfaction: to prove to himself that he can do something that isn't handling weapons and tearing down enemies. He'd attempted cooking with Flayn (a disastrous idea, really), sewing with Mercedes (he'd bent half of her collection of needles and apologized over and over. She'd waved it off with a laugh but he had still felt guilty enough to replace her stock with silver ones), and making accessories with Hilda (she'd politely requested him to get out of her room by the fifth accessory broken, smiling sweetly in the way she did whenever she was about to lose her temper), and none of those had gone well.

This is the best he's ever done partaking in such a delicate activity, and all on his own as well. If he can successfully grow these violets… Prove he's capable of more than bloodshed…

Maybe he can even gift Byleth a cluster of violets… Maybe he can see her mesmerizing smile once again, the smile he'd been witness to after they had successfully recovered Flayn and driven away the Flame Emperor, maybe-

Maybe he needs a new hobby.

He shakes his head. He's getting ahead of himself. There is a long way to go before he can think about giving them to anyone, let alone Byleth. In the first place, he shouldn't even be thinking about giving his professor, his teacher, flowers!

The girls give her flowers all the time, Dimitri tries to reason with himself, retrieving the heavy sack of Caledonian soil. The ordinary person may have struggled to lift it up, but to Dimitri, it is light as a feather. And Sylvain too.

He frowns at his thoughts. The girls giving flowers to Byleth is far different from Dimitri giving flowers to her. He's a prince, for Sothis's sake! And had he really tried to use Sylvain as an example? Sylvain, who flirts with anything in a dress?

Crushing any wistfulness at the idea of giving Byleth flowers, he locates the trowel, dipping it into the sack of soil. The soil gives off a slightly sweet, musky scent as he deposits it around the flowers, taking care to pat them down evenly around the flower mounds. He would have simply gone the easier way and infused the flowers with magic, but he's rather lackluster in both black and white magic, and he'd rather not have it spiral out of his control. The magic can be left to Annette and Mercedes.

Brushing off the bits of soil clinging to his gauntlets, he pulls back, admiring his work. Just a few more days of waiting, and he'll be able to reap the seeds of his hard work-

Someone clears their throat from behind him and Dimitri nearly breaks the trowel in his hands.

His hands already moving to defend himself in a manner he's become increasingly familiar with him, he wheels around, hands clenching, ready to-

Byleth blinks at him from where she's standing, head cocked in interest. Dimitri pulls up short. "Professor!" He splutters, clutching his chest. He tries to force his pounding heart, taken by surprise, to calm down. "You startled me! What are you-" His eyes drop down to what Byleth is clutching in her (so small and delicate but yet so strong and capable) hands. It's a tray of plants, already flowering, pale-blue buds perking up. "Oh."

He's not sure why it takes him by surprise. Byleth is well-known for taking an interest in nearly everything, from fishing to cooking to feeding and playing with the stray dogs and cats littered around the monastery—not to mention, how she always seems to be flitting back and forth, doing odd jobs and little tasks for students.

It's always stricken Dimitri, how, even with being one blessed by Sothis herself and the wielder of the Sword of the Creator, Byleth still continues to carry herself quietly and busy herself with even the most mundane things, from delivering love letters to giving gifts to students—Dimitri has one from her himself, a ceremonial sword with a dulled golden hilt. He's kept it polished and had never used it since she'd gifted it to him, not quite trusting himself to handle it.

And if he recalls correctly, flowers had been one of the many gifts she enjoyed giving.

Byleth quietly kneels onto the ground next to him, silent as a mouse. No wonder Dimitri hadn't heard her enter. Sometimes, she almost seemed like a ghost. "I thought Dedue was the one who enjoyed gardening." Dimitri's head jerks up to look her way.

She's busily digging out holes, presumably for the flowering plants she had carried in, her eyes trained on the dirt. His eyes flicker over to the hair that curtains her face. Doesn't it get in her way? Perhaps she should have tied it back with a ribbon or asked one of the girls to braid it back for her. Mercedes would have been more than happy to oblige…

And he's getting caught up in his head again, just as he seems to do whenever Byleth is concerned. He clears his throat, banishing the thoughts of Byleth with her hair tied up. "You're right, Dedue is the one who enjoys gardening," he says, scratching the back of his neck. Suddenly, his reason feels stupid. "I just thought it would be nice to…" His cheeks flush hotly and he shrugs. "Do something that isn't training for the battlefield for once." He tries to play it off lightly, but Byleth seems to notice the underlying connotations under his words anyway.

Her eyes flit towards him, clear and pale as always. "You do a lot."

Did she really think so? It's almost embarrassing, the relief flooding through him just from those words. "Thank you, Professor."

Silence descends over them once again. In truth, Dimitri does not have any reason to be in the greenhouse any longer, but yet he stays, making a show of poking and prodding at the violets if only to have a reason to linger.

He watches with interest as Byleth digs at the dirt with her bare hands, seemingly having no reservations about dirtying them. Hilda would simply throw a fit.

Then again, he supposes her hands—all their hands—have been dirtied by far worse.

"Dimitri." He blinks out of his thoughts again. He seems to have been stuck in there far more than usual as of late. Byleth is looking his way, and for a moment, he becomes a little lost in her eyes.

By Sothis, he really needs to pull himself together.

"Yes, Professor?" He frowns in confusion as she thrusts out the tray of plants in his direction. "Why are you giving me…"

Byleth tilts her head again, a question in her expression. "Help me plant?"

Oh!

Byleth wants… for Dimitri to help her… plant flowers…

It really shouldn't fill him with as much as delight as it does.

"Oh! Of course, professor! I would be honored to-" He notices the tiniest quirk of her lips and backpedals, covering up his enthusiasm by coughing into his fist. "It would be my pleasure."

Lips still quirked just slightly, Byleth gestures at the dirt, where she has dug out twelve small, neat holes. "I'll do these," she says, gesturing to the right half before the plants. "Put them into the holes, and pat it down." With that, she hands him the tray.

Dimitri nearly trembles with excitement as Byleth turns her attention back to the holes. But how can he not, when Byleth has asked for his help, when she is trusting him with such a delicate task? And sure, maybe she would have asked it of anyone, but it does nothing to quell the way he almost feels light-headed by happiness.

Forcing his hands to relax, lest he crush the blooms, he gently carries them out of the tray. Byleth is hard at work next to him. Dimitri glances at her bare hands, mulling over it for a moment before unclasping his gauntlets and setting them down next to him.

Byleth glances over at his bare hands and something ripples over her expression.

"They're pretty," she says when he's on his fourth hole. He blinks.

"Pretty?"

"The flowers."

Dimitri frowns at her, following her gaze to see what she's talking about. His eyes lead him to where his violets are clumped together. Oh! Another flood of heat rushes to his cheeks and this time, he isn't able to keep the stammer out of his words. "T-thank you."

Byleth hums. "You should give one to Ashe." Dimitri's left blinking again.

"...Ashe?" He asks, hesitantly, wondering if there's something he's missing.

"He likes violets. He dries them and puts them into his book of pressed flowers."

Book of pressed flowers. Once again, Byleth manages to astound him with how thoughtful she is, how she manages to catch even the slightest detail. He hadn't known Ashe enjoyed violets, let alone that he pressed them.

"Thank you for telling me, Professor," Dimitri says, still working at planting the flowers. "He will be the first person I will give them to, once they are prepared." He pulls up short, hesitating. "You… You, without fail, amaze me again."

Byleth glances at him questioningly. There is a smear of dirt on her cheek. Dimitri wants to wipe it away with his thumb.

"How dedicated you are to your students and class, even with how you were thrown into this position blindly without any prior knowledge. How you work and train so hard to hone your skills and protect all of us, never satisfied. How you always know how exactly to speak to someone and comfort them regarding their troubles." He pauses again, not sure if he should continue. "...How you take notes on what nearly every person in the monastery likes and dislikes, the best way to help them to improve, how to encourage them."

Byleth looks away from him at that, her long hair hiding her face once again. "I didn't think anyone noticed that." Is it just him, or does she sound a touch embarrassed?

Dimitri holds back from telling her just how many things he notices about her, how, to him, she is impossible not to miss. Like the way she holds her quill, a little too slanted to be considered acceptable. Like the way she definitely is a fan of sweets in a manner that can rival even Lysithea, always adding at least four or five sugar cubes to her tea. How she has a certain way of monitoring their training, brow furrowed just slightly and hip cocked in a certain manner. And he can go on and on and on, fill countless pages, countless books, with every observation he's made about her.

Perhaps, he does need another hobby.

He doesn't voice any of it. "I aspire to be a fraction of what you are one day," he says instead, and Byleth's hands still, even as he continues. "Then, perhaps, I can be a good king to my people."

She's looking at him again, fully now. Her eyes are unreadable as they always are, but Dimitri thinks he sees something else there, something soft, something… fond, dare he say it.

"You already are," she says, the words almost lost in the rustling of the wind. Dimitri's lips part in surprise and he stares at her—but she's already turned her attention back to the plants.

Something flutters in his throat, words, a phrase.

But not now. It's too early now.

So he pushes them down, lets them flutter in his ribcage until they settle onto his heart firmly, tucking in their wings and not taking flight anytime soon.

Byleth makes him believe in a better future, a future painted in honey gold and smiles, makes him believe he can be a better person.

Erases the whisperings in his head for a little while.

Byleth finishes planting her half before he does and helps him with the last two. Their hands knock against each other and Dimitri is thankful he hadn't been clutching a seedling with how aggressively he draws back. Byleth waves off his apologies, and now, her eyes are definitely dancing in amusement.

By the time they're finished, he can see the sky has taken on a shade of bruising red. There's no doubt Dedue will be fretting over where he is soon. Byleth is already preparing to head back as well, dusting off her hands and checking in on the rest of her planted seedlings.

She cocks her head towards the door in a silent question. Dimitri smiles. "I think I'll stay here a little bit more, Professor," he says and she raises a brow in surprise, but doesn't press him any further.

"Thank you," she tells him simply, and truly, it is not her who should be thanking him, but him who should be thanking her. He says as much.

"No, thank you, Professor," he says. "Truly."

Her brow raises even higher before it smooths out, settling into something gentler. "Of course," she says, and then she's disappearing out the doors. Dimitri heaves a heavy sigh and turns back to his violets, to the pale-blue flowers he had planted with Byleth.

A burst of color catches his eye—one of his violets. His eyes widen in surprise, and he scrambles closer to get a better look.

There's no doubt about it—it's a fully-grown, flourishing violet. Just as the one Dedue showed him as an example. A childish excitement captures him.

Before he can think through what he is doing, he's plucking the flower off the ground by its stem, gently as not to bruise it. And then he's rushing out the door, one destination in mind.

Byleth hasn't gone far—she's kneeling on the floor by a cat who sports a coat of orange, feeding it a treat she seems to have whipped out of nowhere. It's just like her to get distracted by a stray. She looks up in surprise as he rushes up to her, efficiently scaring off the cat with his heavy footsteps.

"Professor! I wanted to-" He fumbles with his hands, holding out the violet. She stares at it. "I know I had said I would give Ashe the first one, but-" He hesitates, biting his lip. "It hardly measures to the magnitude of the gratitude I have towards you, but, please, accept this as a token of thanks, meager as it is." He holds it out to her.

A beat passes between them, in which, for one, horrifying moment, Byleth doesn't move, and Dimitri begins to wonder if this is the worst idea he's ever had and acted on.

Before he can regret it, or maybe draw back and babble apologies, there is a gentle pressure on his hands. He looks up, surprised, and-

And the monastery falls away.

Byleth is smiling at him gently, holding the violet in her hand. "Thank you, Dimitri. It's beautiful," she says, and-

He's in love with Byleth.

His world seems to have become a colorful blur in which Byleth is the one thing that starkly stands out, every crease of her smile, the sparkle in her eye, the softness of her expression, vibrant in a muddled world.

For the first time in a long, long while, Dimitri feels as if he can see clearly.

Somehow, he manages to stutter out a reply. "M-my pleasure, Professor. I will retire for the night." He offers her a bow, and how he does not go tripping with how his head spins is impressive. "Goodnight."

With that, he turns on his heel, his feet leading him to not the dormitory, but the training room, where he spends the entirety of the night recalling Byleth's smile and becoming dizzy with euphoria over the memory.

The next day in class, there is a single violet resting in the vase Byleth reserves for whenever a student gifts her flowers. Except, this time, no one knows who is the gifter.

Dimitri gazes at the violet and thinks about Byleth's smile.