Work Text:
The Magic of Roses
By Misha
It all started with the damn roses.
Sylvain was in the greenhouse, looking for Byleth when the gardener approached him with her hands full of roses.
“You! Take these!” She told him, shoving them into his arms.
“Marta, I’m flattered,” Sylvain said with an easy grin, “I am always happy to take flowers from a beautiful woman.”
Marta’s expression didn’t budge. “There was an excess of flower blooms this week and I need to find something to do with them. I figure you could find a recipient.”
The way she says it and the look she gives him makes him wonder just how far rumours about him have spread. Apparently even the staff are aware of his reputation.
Oh well. At least it’s to his gain.
Except as he leaves the greenhouse with an arm full of flowers, he is trying to figure out what exactly he is going to do with them. Give them to a woman, obviously, but who?
One of the ones he is currently pursuing? A possibility. But as the faces filter through his mind, he dismisses that because none of them need extra wooing at this point and roses are a very specific gesture.
He could give them to the professor, except he knew Byleth would likely roll her eyes at the extravagant gesture and ask him what he wanted, so he crossed her off his list of possibilities.
One of the girls in his class? Hilda would probably adore roses and he did enjoy the pretty smiles she gave when she was happy. Or Marianne, who had such a lovely smile when she dared, except she would probably die from embarrassment before she got around to thanking him. Mercedes would give him a very pious thank you and Annette would be enthusiastic.
And Ingrid...
Sylvain’s lip curled as he imagined his old friend’s reaction. She would roll her eyes and possibly lecture him and that would amuse him, because a part of him enjoyed riling her up, besides maybe it would catch her off-guard, as it always did when his attention landed on her... and that was fun.
He grinned, imagining her reaction. That settled it, he would give the roses to Ingrid.
He headed towards the Knight’s Hlal, knowing he would find her there, and sure enough she was there, talking to Ashe.
“Ingrid!” Sylvain called out in a sing-song voice, “I have something for you.”
“What do you want Sylvain?” Ingrid asked, the exasperation obvious and then her voice trailing off and her eyes widening as she took in the sheer number of flowers in his arms.
“The Gardner asked me to take these off her hands,” Sylvain explained, “and I couldn’t think of anyone I would rather give them to than my oldest friends”
Ingrid scoffed, “I’m sure,” but it lacked the usual bite and her eyes were fastened to the blossoms. “These are really for me?”
“For you,” Sylvain confirmed, a little surprised by her reaction, where was the eye rolling, the sarcasm and the lecture? He put the roses in her arms, watching her carefully.
“Well...” Ingrid paused, taking in a whiff of the blooms, na uncharacteristic softness on her face. She really was quite beautiful, Sylvain noted. “Thank you... I don’t think anyone has ever...” she trailed off and then seemed to regain her bearings, the softness vanishing, “but don’t think this means I will go easy on you.”
“I would never,” Sylvain assured her with a grin, “after all, how would I survive without you keeping me in line?”
Ingrid scoffed, but there was humor to it. “I should... Go do something with these,” she declared and then hurried away, her arms full of roses, a spring to her step.
“That was really nice of you, Sylvain,” Ashe murmured, surprising Sylvain because he had forgotten that he was even there.
“Yeah...” Sylvain agreed distractedly, remembering the way Ingrid had smiled at him, the softness that had come over her face. He wasn’t used to see Ingrid soft and I had unnerved him, that and the realization of just how beautiful she was...
He shook his head, this was crazy, this was Ingrid. His old friend, the first person to lecture him and tell him what a selfish skirt chaser he was, and the last person he should be thinking of like that .
The flowers were too blame, he decided, they had somehow gotten to both of them and made everything weird. But soon he would do something to piss her off and she would yell at him and all would be back to normal.
And that was a good thing.
It was.
And yet, Sylvain made a mental note to start giving Ingrid flowers more often. Just to keep her off her toes and off his back, of course, no other reason.
Nothing to do with the way she had smiled at him. Of course not.
- End