Chapter Text
Byleth took a sip of her tea. The taste was pleasant. Not perfect. There were ways that she could improve. Still, it was an acceptable first attempt in her opinion.
Dimitri still hadn’t touched his.
She stared at one of the roses that surrounded them, trying to ignore the creeping sensation beneath her skin. Byleth had been rather pleased by the tea party she’d set up, but perhaps she’d done something wrong, like broken one of those etiquette rules the nobles were all so obsessed with. Or maybe her efforts were simply wanting, to someone like a prince.
When that orange noble kid had gifted her the tea set, there had been no question in Byleth’s mind as to who she would invite first. Dimitri had been by her side from the moment she stepped into Garreg Mach. Before even, when he’d offered to guide her around the monastery just hours after they met. Who better to share this moment with, than a boy so warm and kind that he could make a demon feel included?
Byleth’s eyes snapped back to Dimitri as he shifted in his seat, one gauntleted hand now hovering over the teacup. Despite the sight tremor in his hand, his face was hardened with resolve, determination burning in his striking blue eyes. She watched as he finally picked up the cup, as hesitant as though he were handling a wild animal. A cold weight pressed down on Byleth’s chest. Was drinking the tea she’d prepared truly such a burden?
“Mm. The smell is delicious,” Dimitri said with his usual charming smile. The one that didn’t reach his eyes, that let his inner darkness seep through – that made Byleth uneasy even as it lured her in closer. He took a sip, smile never wavering. “Thank you for this lovely treat, Professor.”
No comment on the taste, Byleth noted dully. She stared down at her own cup, all of her earlier interest fading away. Even her appetite had vanished. Perhaps she should just end the tea party now. It would probably break some rule of the nobility, but she’d failed enough already that another faux pas couldn’t make things worse.
“That look in your eyes…” Byleth glanced up at Dimitri’s quiet words, confused to find him watching her intently. He frowned. “Professor, are you…upset?”
Byleth only blinked in reply. He’d said something similar once, after their victory in the mock battle. It had been disconcerting to be read so easily back then. It still was. No one but her father had ever been able to discern emotion in her blank face before, and even he struggled at times. And yet Dimitri seemed to have no trouble guessing the sentiment behind her eyes.
“Is it my fault?” Dimitri asked when she failed to answer. He hunched in on himself, looking anywhere but at her. “Yes, it must be. You have my deepest apologies, Professor. You went to such an effort to prepare this tea party, and I have ruined it, just as I knew I would. I shall leave now, and spare you the burden of my presence any longer.”
“Wait.”
Byleth didn’t shout, but her voice was – different than normal. Almost panicked, she thought, like it might sound if she was trying to warn him of danger. Fortunately, it was enough to make Dimitri freeze in the middle of pushing his chair back – though his surprised expression as he studied her face made Byleth wonder what he saw.
“I…” Speaking was never easy for her. Not when emotions were involved. But Dimitri had been encouraging when she’d opened up before. “You’re right. I am…upset. But it’s not your fault. I’m just…worried that I did something wrong. That I offended you.” The confession rushed out faster than her usual measured speech. Byleth stared down at her hands, curling them into fists on her lap. “You were looking at the teacup like it was going to attack you.”
Silence.
And then Dimitri laughed.
Byleth looked up in surprise. She was even more shocked to see Dimitri rest an elbow on the table and lean forward, his eyes still crinkled up with a genuine smile as he rested his head on his hand. The sight made her stomach twist strangely.
“Professor…the fault lies with me, truly,” Dimitri said with another laugh. “You seemed so excited to have received a new tea set. I was terrified that I might break it, and that you would despise me forever. You have seen how poorly even iron lances fare in my hands, after all."
“Oh.” A weight seemed to lift off Byleth’s shoulders at his words. She felt warm. Light, as if she were floating away into the sky. She considered the delicate teacup in her hands, so fragile and easy to break even for one of usual strength. “Next time I’ll bring you a tankard.”
Dimitri chuckled, affection lighting up his eyes. “Thank you, Professor. I look forward to it. Although, that does remind me.” Dimitri picked up one of the sweets and nibbled at its edge. Byleth followed suit, stuffing an entire cupcake into her mouth. “I meant to ask your opinion on a forging technique that I read about the other day…”
It hardly felt like any time had passed. But no matter how far Byleth tipped the teapot, nothing came out. She stared at it in confusion, realizing a moment later that all of the sweets had vanished too.
Just how long had she and Dimitri been debating the craftmanship of weapons?
Slowly, Byleth placed the empty teapot back onto the table. She wondered if she’d ever spent an entire afternoon in pleasant conversation before. If she’d ever had so much fun that time flew by without her realizing.
Dimitri leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms in an oddly distracting manner. “Thank you, Professor. I had a lovely time. I do hope that we might do this again one day.”
Byleth nodded, already strategizing her next plan of attack. She would brew the tea for a shorter time, and bring a sturdier cup for Dimitri. She should prepare a list of interesting conversation topics too, and…
“You are a marvellous host, Professor,” Dimitri continued, his praise flowing naturally. “It is hard to believe this was your first tea party. Are you certain that you have never attended one before?”
Byleth shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“You…are not sure?”
She turned back to the roses, finding it difficult to meet Dimitri’s confused gaze. It wasn’t the first time someone had looked at her like that since coming to the monastery. Not being aware of her father’s past, not recalling her first battle, not even knowing her own age…none of those things had felt odd when she was a mercenary. But Byleth had quickly learned that the way she’d drifted through life, detached from her surroundings as she moved from one battle to the next, was hardly normal.
“I…don’t remember much of my life before Garreg Mach,” Byleth admitted. The ease with which she’d spoken of weapons had long since disappeared. “Not the details. Most of it’s just a blur.”
“I see…” Dimitri stared down at his empty teacup, sadness etched into his features. Not for the first time, Byleth found herself amazed at how deeply he could feel the pain of others. “Then do you not have any happy memories of your past?”
Byleth rested her chin on her fist and considered his question. As she’d expected, it was difficult to recall specific moments in time, happy or otherwise. All of the battles blurred into a never-ending cycle of death. All of the meals were vaguely pleasant but indistinguishable. Hazy memories of pretty flowers or interesting new locales tugged at her thoughts, but they slipped away before she could fully grasp them.
Except…
Wordlessly, Byleth traced her fingers down the dagger at her side. The sensation of its ridges pressing against her skin reminded her of the first time she’d held it, even if her hands had been much smaller then. A feeling of warmth blossomed in her chest.
“Yes. When Jeralt gave me this dagger.” Byleth placed it on the table between them, though her hand still lingered fondly. “It was my first weapon. He taught me where to stab bad men. And he told me that…that he would be sad if someone hurt me.” She rubbed her thumb along the bright blue sheath. “It makes me…happy, I think. Whenever I touch my dagger and remember it.”
“That is a wonderful memory, Professor.”
Dimitri smiled down at the dagger, something nostalgic in his gaze. Some of the other mercenaries had questioned Jeralt’s decision to arm a small child at the time, but now that Byleth had met the Blue Lions, she suspected it was just a Faerghan thing. Perhaps Dimitri had a similar memory of his own father. For some reason, that thought made her feel even happier.
“Hm. I wonder…” Dimitri murmured as he studied their surroundings. The thoughtful look in his eyes brightened into excitement a moment later. Without hesitation, he reached for the nearest rose and plucked it free, offering it to her with a painfully earnest smile.
“For you, Professor,” Dimitri continued softly. His smile was too bright to look at directly, so Byleth focused on the crimson flower resting in his hand instead. Her pulse began to do strange things when she accepted it, an odd burning sensation rising to her cheeks at the sight of its beauty. There was still a bit of ripped stem dangling from the rose, but to Byleth that only added to its charm.
“Thank you,” Byleth finally managed to say. Her voice sounded strange, even to her own ears. “But why…?”
“Ah. Well.” Dimitri began to blush, but his eyes remained fixed firmly on her own. “It seems as though your dagger helps you to remember a happy moment in your past. Perhaps it is presumptuous of me, but I hope this rose may serve a similar purpose – that each time you look upon it, you might fondly remember our tea party here today. Even after I – even after I have graduated.”
Byleth traced a finger over the delicate petals, imprinting the image of Dimitri’s charming blush onto the sensation. He was correct, she realized. For as long as she lived, roses would always remind her of their first tea party. Of their misunderstandings and joy alike. Of happy times spent with her very first friend.
“There is a method to preserve flowers,” Dimitri continued in a rush. Byleth let him speak; she always liked listening to him ramble. “Drying, I believe it is called. I am hardly an expert, but Ashe and Mercedes were discussing the topic in class last week, so perhaps one of them might aid you. If you even wish to keep the rose, that is! I would never presume to imagine that such a meager gift could compare to – ”
“I’ll ask them tomorrow,” Byleth interrupted smoothly. She couldn’t stop touching the rose, overwhelmed by the fluttery feeling in her chest. “Thank you, Dimitri.”
Her simple words of gratitude felt insufficient, but Dimitri smiled anyway. He looked bashful and boyish, adorable in a way that urged Byleth to close the distance between them. “Of course, Professor,” Dimitri continued sweetly. “I look forward to having tea with you again.”
Again…
Byleth clutched the flower to her chest, and nodded in agreement.
And when she drifted off to sleep that night, gaze remaining on the rose as long as her eyes could stay open, Byleth dreamed of the new memories that she and Dimitri would make.