Chapter Text
Let's go for a sleep walk.
Together under the night sky.
Through the orchard, into my garden.
I promise I won't bite.
— Moonflower, Blackbriar.
Patrolling a large area is a comforting task between the overwhelming duties she must carry in Garreg Mach. Nothing too crazy happens in the monastery at night, not with Seteth polishing security after Flayn's abduction.
Unlike her days as a mercenary, she's never alone anymore. Sothis is always with her, even if she sleeps a lot. People approach her often too, even if their motivations may be selfish or self-serving sometimes. Manipulative.
Not Dimitri though. Claude and Hilda call him a soft hearted sucker… and they are right. She doesn't let them abuse of the prince's generosity anymore.
She always looks forward to the nights they are partnered up since he volunteers often, much to Dedue's dismay.
Dimitri always comes with a map with their route already planned, knows every guard and post that they must check upon, and always brings great treats for them and the monastery's pets. Though the treat bags are now marked with bold ink—Ashe probably was horrified the time they ate even the dog snacks.
Being guided without someone scrutinizing even the way she breathes felt…nice. She can just exist in Dimitri's company. Only Jeralt made her feel this relaxed.
The oddest thing tonight was finding two students getting a little frisky in the graveyard. They are lucky it was her who discovered them and not Jeralt, or else a new grave would have been opened. They were disturbing her mother's tomb, after all.
Not that the 'love-bugs' as Dorothea calls them had it any easier with Dimitri as her patrol partner. The students were from The Blue Lions—poor suckers. She admits that seeing the prince furiously chastise his peers with the wrath of a wild beast, jumping from one language to another seamlessly is so...entertaining. It's stirring something.
A dry snort and low chuckle.
Her open amusement was what finally saved the poor students from the lion's fangs. Their shift is over anyway. Time to write the report quickly, and have some chamomile tea.
Dimitri had their table under the gazebo ready by the time she returned with their lukewarm beverage—he hates hot drinks, just like Rhea, no matter the weather. It was a cool evening despite it's just the end of Horsebow Moon, so the prince had discarded his jacket, gently arranging it on her back to help her stay warm. Polite and caring like always.
He had rolled up his sleeves, trying not to dirty the high quality cotton with ink as he wrote the report for her. She's rather distracted with the veins that hide under thick layers of hair. Dimitri never uses the sauna or lounging attire, always covering every inch of his body. Just this small sight of creamy skin tightens something between her legs.
"It is…a lovely night, is it not?" He suddenly asks, looking away from the parchment, giving her his undivided attention instead. His eyes remind her of the free sky at dawn, so blue. Even without his gauntlets and usual armor, his frame is…strong, large.
Sothis mischievously giggles, "He asked you a question you know. Oh my, you're openly ogling him!"
" 'Am not."
Dimitri tilts his head, ever patient. Sothis cackles.
She shakes her head, "I am not focused on tonight."
His smile reaches his eyes, striking, "What are you focused on then, professor?"
Sothis hums. "You, silly prince. My, the two of you are terrible with cues."
"Sothis." Byleth warns.
"Sothis? As…Goddess Sothis? I suppose her star is still quite bright this month, though that will change once Ethereal Moon arrives." He sets the plume aside, "I did not take you for a believer, professor."
That scares Sothis into the corner of her mind. Time to clean the mess she made though.
"The goddess has been kind to me." That much is true. "Her presence gives me strength in difficult times, mostly during battle."
"Is that so?" He contemplates briefly the shadows made by their lantern and the moonlight, "I'm glad to hear that you find succor in her image. That someone with such impeccable sangfroid and tenacity relies sometimes on the goddess' favor…brings me peace with my own relationship with her. Thank you for sharing something so private with me, professor. Your words and presence mean more than you know." His expression softens again, "I'm glad that our paths crossed in Remire. I mean that with all my heart."
Teaching a bunch of Imperial nobles forced her to learn flowery speech pretty quickly. All those hours of almost burning her eyelashes feels worth it right now. She just responds with a curt nod, unable to give any cohesive response to every indistinguishable emotion that Dimitri brings out.
"There is something I have been meaning to give you since your birthday. I'm afraid my real gift was not ready in time."
The cylindrical whetstones had been so nice though. Her blades could cut through the saint statues if she tried now. Taking more from him feels…wrong.
"Please, close your eyes for a moment."
Rejecting his generosity feels worse.
A vulnerable defense is a death sentence for a mercenary. She's just Byleth right now though. She heeds to his request, listening to a brief rustle of the nearby bushes before two things are plopped into the table. By the sound and the weight of the vibration …it's a potted plant, and a weapon. A dagger most probably.
Knowing what the gifts were did not take away the contentment once Dimitri let her see. The rondel dagger is crafted handsomely on a pure body of silver. The leather grip fits her hand perfectly, and the pommel has a golden lioness roaring at the wielder. This type of tool is usually made in pairs, since its often used in close-combat duels, perfect for penetrating plate armor, or giving a mercy kill.
She could buy a nice home in a fishing port with how ornate the details are on this gift, but her name engraved on the blade fills her with…an odd possessiveness.
"Is it to your liking?" He bashfully rubs his neck. How endearing.
"It is. I promise I won't let it waste away. Thank you." Her attention shifts to the cute vine plant that hangs from a slightly cracked pot. The round, white blooms smell really nice. "She's so pretty and precious."
He doesn't look away, "She is."
"What's her name?"
"Oh, well…I have never named a plant. Besides, she's yours." He carefully pushes the plant closer to her, his face no longer that pale. "They are known as Moonflowers. Faerghus may have poor soil for crops, but the weeds and wild plants thrive. Moonflowers attract plenty of pollinators, so you will see them always being grown near orchards and farmlands. They are perennial in tropical climates, but in my homeland you only see them from spring to fall. If you keep it indoors it will never stop blooming, though."
Dimitri continues his exhaustive explanation of Moonflowers. Like how you can use the leafs as a sleeping aid tea, but must not consume the rest of the plant since it's poisonous. How they symbolize strength during times of trial, and ever-lasting love. Queens of Faerghus tend to wear them proudly as a motif. Northern brides always use them on their wedding bouquets.
Dimitri probably noticed the merchants began overpricing chamomile flowers and decided to grow a sustainable substitute. So resourceful.
Most tiger moths began to ignore the lantern to feast on the white blooms instead, though soon a few began to land over Dimitri's soft-looking hair. He ever delicately guides them over his fingers before setting them away without breaking focus.
Just then, an inescapable truth hits her.
He's hauntingly beautiful.
"Oh, professor…you're smiling again. Perhaps the goddess has decided to be kind to me too."
.
.
.
Seren. Her Moonflower will be named after a pretty star. The far west corner of her room is no longer empty. Tonight she feels warmer, probably because Dimitri forgot to take his jacket back.