Chapter Text
Byleth was, by Jeralt’s approximation, eight years old when she first discovered her love of flowers. It was one of the few times they stayed in a village for more than a day, and Byleth, ever the curious one, had followed some children into a nearby field of flowers. When Jeralt has gone to collect her that evening, one of the lesser nobles (the wife of a wealthy carpenter) had told him, in no uncertain terms, that his daughter needed to learn how to interact with people if she ever hoped to get anywhere in life. Apparently Byleth had scared the lady’s little brat by “staring at her with frightening eyes”. It wasn’t anything Jeralt hadn’t heard before, and he was actually rather proud of how well he managed to hold his tongue.
Byleth was sitting in the field all alone when he found her, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she struggled with the flowers in her hands. “Hey there, kid,” Jeralt greeted amicably as he approached. He knelt down to her eye level, despite the protest of his knees, and continued. “What do you have there?”
“Flower wreath,” Byleth replied flatly. She held up her work for Jeralt to appraise, causing some of the daisies to fall out of the sloppy loops she had tried to make. The corners of her mouth twitched downwards, the only indication of her displeasure. “The other girls ran away before I could watch how they did it.”
“Well. That was just rude.” Jeralt finally resigned to sitting and Byleth automatically crawled into his lap. It was as physically affectionate as she probably would ever be, so Jeralt took the small blessing for what it was. “Fortunately for you, your old man knows how to weave flower wreaths.” He continued, picking a few daisies to start his own chain. It was a skill imparted to him by his late wife. She had always decorated his armor with intricate chains of flowers that had been lovingly grown by her own hands. Some of the other knights snickered, but Jeralt never once paid them any heed. If it made his wife happy, he’d stick flowers anywhere they would stay.
Byleth watched with rapt attention at her father’s work, looking up from her hands to his as she diligently tried to copy him. In between his demonstration and verbal guidance, the two had two pairs of daisy chains. One obviously tighter and neater than the other, but seeing Byleth smile as she proudly held out her in-tact wreath warmed Jeralt’s heart. He placed his wreath on Byleth’s head and, in some smooth motion, scooped her up into his arms. “Alright, time to go. We’ve got an early morning -and don’t you give me that look. You’re the one who insisted I teach you how to use a sword. You signed up for this.”
Byleth continued to look up at him with the most indignant look she could muster, before huffing a sigh through her nose and returning to her usual neautral expression. It put Jeralt’s mind at ease knowing that this little girl was capable of at least some emotion. Compared to when she was a baby, seeing even the tiniest change in her face was like witnessing a small miracle. And that she seemed to be developing a love for flowers? Hell, it was almost enough to make him fall to his knees and thank the Goddess. Almost. But in any case, at least now he had a better idea on what to get her for her birthday