There are flowers in Dimitri's hair.
Not only that, but there are flowers behind his ears, flowers tucked neatly into the band of his eyepatch, flowers under his arms and in his hands. Just about everywhere flowers can be, there are, and he seems to be at peace with the decision for them to be there.
Byleth isn't sure why he's so heavily covered in flowers—blooms for the time of year in Fhirdiad, where she's been trapped for so long despite knowing she needs to be back at the monastery—but when he smiles at her she knows that he isn't going to complain about the decorations. They must have been gifts from someone visiting the castle, perhaps a present from a faraway lord that a maid must have insisted to use to brighten up his typical visage, or perhaps even it was the person who'd bestowed the gift who'd done the honor. He sees that she's focused on what he's holding, what he's wearing, and he smiles bigger, offering her some of the plentiful stems and blossoms he's holding.
"A gift," he says, answering the question in the way she'd expected, "from Annette. She said she received far too many for her birthday and wanted to distribute the rest to someone she felt would deserve them."
"You look nice like that," she replies, unable to move her eyes off of his bright face and the flowers covering so much of it. "It may be of use to learn how to dry and preserve some of these, to adorn your eyepatch on a permanent basis."
Dimitri shifts as he makes his offer of flowers more prominent, but he's aware that Byleth isn't looking in their direction. "We can look into it, I'm certain she would have a suggestion or two for how to do it. She'd hoped that these flowers would be being gifted to someone else, but…" He trails off as his grip on his offerings loosens, the whole bundle falling out of fingers that lost their ability to hold in that moment. The flowers do not fall far, landing on top of the blanket that Byleth has draped herself in, and it is only when she feels them falling onto her that she realizes he'd been offering any of them to her.
"Her insistence on the matter is admirable, but unfortunately it will have to be us enjoying the flowers instead." Finally pulling her eyes away from the face of the king, the face of the man she loves and married, Byleth looks at the collection of flowers now spread out along the blanket as they rolled down to pool in the basket created by her folded legs. They're simply beautiful, and whoever had gifted them to Annette had done an excellent job at picking flowers of colors not just pertinent to her but to the country as well; there are wisps of blue and white amidst the larger orange and cream blossoms, and when pulled together they look like a floral representation of the woman who'd received them. "I wonder how long they will keep, even in water. Do we have vases for all of these?"
"The maids are already getting them together now. I made sure to express my desire of keeping the flowers here in the bedroom, to keep you company when I am away." There's a hint of sadness in Dimitri's voice, and Byleth knows it's because he cannot bear to be away from her longer than a handful of minutes, especially in her current state. "But they should keep for some time, as long as they are well-cared for."
Her eyes drift back up towards Dimitri's face, which even with its wreath of flowers looks tired and creased, the stresses of rebuilding after war having gotten to him and cutting deeply into the skin near his eyes and mouth. He looks much older than his years would lead one to believe, but she still loves him as much as she always had. "I assume the maids will be tending to them?" she asks, to which he nods, and she can't help but give a faint smile when one of the flowers falls from its position behind his ear, drifting down to the floor where it will predictably stay until their bedroom is next cleaned. "Very well. Did you thank Annette for the lovely gift?"
"It would have been rude not to, especially with how many flowers she delivered. I found it odd when she sent correspondence asking for assistance in her next visit, but when I saw her and Dedue entering with their arms laden with the flowers it became understandable." The sheer number of flowers that it would take for Dedue, of all people, to be considered "laden" with them seems unimaginable to Byleth, but she takes Dimitri's word on the matter. Unless the flowers are brought into the bedroom it is unlikely she would be seeing them, at any rate, and she wouldn't dare ask for that to happen.
They fall into a silence as Dimitri sets everything else he is holding down on his side of the bed, before moving what he'd dropped off of the blanket and sitting down right near Byleth's feet, looking at her with his eye drifting up and down the blanket she still covers herself with. "I assume you want me to uncover?" she suggests, knowing what his gaze means, but when he gives his head a firm shake (losing several more of the flowers from where they'd been nestled), she is predictably taken aback. "Oh? Then what do you want?"
"For you to turn around, my love, so I can put flowers in your hair as well. Annette's request, I would hate to disappoint her."
He sounds so earnest with his explanation that it's hard for Byleth to consider doing anything but what he asks of her, but as she carefully kicks the blanket down off of herself, she hears him give a mumble of awe as the blanket tumbles down to her feet. "I apologize for how…rough I look at the moment," she says, a feeling of being unworthy of being in the presence of the king washing over her (never mind the fact that she is his queen). "I suppose that would be why there are flowers involves, though."
"Rough? Byleth, you are doing the goddess' work, you could never look anything but radiant at the moment." When Dimitri laughs it's hard not to go along with it, and his positive reinforcement makes Byleth forget for just a moment about everything else going on in their lives, aside from their love and the flowers he is there to bestow upon her. Together they manage to get her to turn enough in the bed that Dimitri can get behind her to begin putting flowers in her hair, a task that he begins with haste.
As she feels stems and fingertips working their way through her long, seafoam hair, which she cannot recall the last time it had been brushed or washed, she feels a sense of belonging that only comes when she's alone with Dimitri. He doesn't see her as queen or archbishop or his former professor, he sees her solely as the woman he's devoted himself to, the woman currently carrying his child and is therefore deserving of twice the love as usual. "I suppose that Annette was disappointed to hear that the child doesn't share a birthday with her," she remarks after the reason for the flowers in the first place clicks in her mind. "She would have been over the moon if that were the case."
"Sharing her birthday with the prince or princess of the kingdom she calls home? Anyone would be excited for such an honor, but with how close we are to Annette I am certain she'll be just as thrilled to share a moon with them." There is a pause as Dimitri considers what he needs to do, and soon Byleth can feel him braiding and twisting her long hair into different designs, most likely for added space for flowers. "But yes, she was quite disappointed to know she'd delivered the flowers and had no child to meet."
"Soon, I know it will be soon." For being someone who never had a heartbeat of her own to feel as she went through life, Byleth had found an innate talent at feeling even the slightest motions or movements from the child that she was bearing, and she made use of it whenever possible. "It is almost as if they want to be among us just as much as we want them."
His breath hitches, she hears the hesitance that overcomes him as he tries to come up with a way to respond to such a statement. "I have full faith in your statement, and let us hope that it is before the end of this moon, lest we have Annette holding us in contempt for shattering that dream of hers as well."
"The Harpstring Moon is still young, Dima. I'm sure that we'll be blessed with our child long before we worry about what next moon holds." Letting her arms wrap around her large, heavy stomach, Byleth feels the motion of the child existing within it, their livelihood at the moment being to try and stretch out where there is no further room for them to move. "If they do not make their appearance within the next week, I fear that I may run out of space for them to grow."
"Then let us hope that it happens before then," he replies, his voice soft as he returns to his work of decorating his wife's hair. "It would be nice to become a proper family at last, with our little one among us." His wish is one that she agrees with, but she feels that voicing that agreement is wholly unnecessary. They have discussed at length what bringing a child into the world would mean to each of them, her having someone to parent with care and respect like her father had attempted with her, him having someone to parent with presence and protection like his father had tried for him. Parenting is not a task that simply anyone can take on for themselves and succeed at, but they both have hopes that they would do well.
When Dimitri finishes with the decoration he slides off of the bed and asks Byleth to turn back to facing forward, a request that she struggles with just like she'd struggled to turn around in the first place. Being so heavy with child has made her moving difficult, to the point that her last several days had been spent confined almost entirely to the bed in their room, so that she did not exert herself too much, but when she is back forward she sees the glimmer of love in Dimitri's eye as he leans in to kiss her.
The flowers on his eyepatch brush against her skin as their lips lock, yet all she can think about is how they really should find a way to decorate the eyepatch with flowers on a more permanent basis.
When he pulls away, all she can think about is the flowers still in his hair, matching with the ones she can feel dancing in her own.
"You look as stunning as you did on our wedding day," he says, pressing his hands to his heart and watching her do the same, laying her war-worn palms across her swollen chest, to feel an organ that does nothing as it should except feel love. "Be in my eye, be in my heart."
"Be in my heart," she repeats, and when she feels a panging underneath her hands, she knows it is not the muscle they speak to, but rather remnant motion from the child that may as well be the physical manifestation of their love.
Some day soon, her heart may exist outside of her body.
And when they meet them, perhaps they'd both be wearing flowers in their hair.
A/N: last night when I was laying down to sleep I was overcome with the need to write a fic playing with lyrics from "flowers in your hair" by the lumineers. then I had the imagery of Dimitri with an eyepatch covered in flowers hit me, and I knew it was going to have to be dimileth fic, because...heart imagery. and then, because today's mother's day, I mentally made it babyfic.
so...enjoy!