Work Text:
"Do you remember the last time we were here?" Brynn asked, poised at a dusty window, her voice as soft as ever in the still air. A delicate finger traced a hairline fracture through the glass, the blurred green of the monastery grounds out of focus in the distance.
Dimitri paused. It was over five years ago, during the White Heron Ball. He remembered it fondly, but regret prickled at the edges of the memory.
They'd both escaped to the Goddess tower for some air, Dimitri trailing behind his professor as her then-raven-colored hair caught his attention when she slipped away. He'd watched her for a moment as she ran her hands along the dusty mosaic that decorated its walls, unsure how to approach.
"Tired of the ball, Dimitri?" She asked, still looking at the tiles.
"I should ask you the same thing, professor. Did all that dancing tire you?" he replied, finally leaving the stairwell and joining her.
Brynn sighed, stepping back to stand next to him. Her deep blue dress swished softly at her feet, barely dusting the floor.
"No, I enjoy dancing. But the people..." she frowned, still focused on the wall. "It's a lot. I needed to breathe."
Dimitri nodded. He felt much the same; despite being a prince, he still felt uncomfortable in large social situations, much to Rodrigue's chagrin.
They were silent for a time, Brynn never one to talk much, Dimitri flustered. He found it difficult not to look at her; she always drew the attention of any room despite her placid manner. Tonight was no different. If anything, it was all the more difficult to look away. She was clad in a floor length gown of deep blue, the bodice embroidered with delicate gold thread. It bared her shoulders but crept high on her neck, the shimmering embroidery peeking out from where her loose hair fell. It seemed Mercedes and Annette had convinced her to wear a touch of makeup after all- they'd been pestering her for days, and the rouge on her cheeks and lips bloomed a soft pink on her skin while golden glitter shone tastefully on her eyelids. What pleased him most, however, was the Blue Lions brooch affixed to her dress, an ever-present piece of her attire since he'd gifted it to her.
"What?" Brynn asked, turning to fix him with a curious gaze, one eyebrow raised.
"I- uh-" Dimitri stammered, "The. Um. That dress, it suits you." He was blushing, he could feel the heat at the tips of his ears, and he hated it.
"Oh," Brynn exclaimed softly, her hand drawn up to her neck in surprise. "Thank you. I was hesitant to wear it, but Manuela and Dorothea were so insistent. I'm very fond of the color." She looked pointedly at the cape draped over his shoulder, the rich blue fabric stark against his silver formal armor.
Dimitri faltered, struggling to find words, but Brynn had already moved on, her attention clearly focused on something by the window.
She stared out of it for a moment, head cocked as if she were listening closely. With a small smile she fiddled with the locking mechanism and pushed it open, cool night air rushing into the room. She motioned for Dimitri to join her, staring over the monastery grounds to the grand hall below them.
"Listen," she said as he approached. "You can hear the music from the ball. I'm so glad the students are enjoying themselves; you all deserve it." She turned to him, a smile brightening her face. "You've been working very hard."
Dimitri smiled back, a lopsided grin he often wore when Brynn praised him. He never knew how to accept a compliment, especially from her.
"We wouldn't be anywhere without you, professor," he countered, proud of the blush that flashed across her face.
“I think you’d do quite well if I were here or not,” Brynn retorted, but she was clearly pleased with the compliment.
"Professor, may I ask you something?" He said after a time, holding her gaze.
"Are you familiar with the legend associated with this place? That if we wish here, the goddess will grant it?"
Brynn nodded, and Dimitri raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Really? I did not expect you to give that sort of thing any thought. Still, I would make a wish, even if it falls on deaf ears."
"And what would you wish for, Dimitri?" Brynn was watching him intently, clearly curious.
"A world without suffering. Where the cycle of the strong suppressing the weak is broken, where children are not cast from their homes simply because they do not bear a Crest. Where no one goes hungry." He spoke with conviction, the goal for his monarchy as clear as the day he conceived it.
Brynn's chest swelled with pride, he thought, as she looked at him with a smile.
"That is a fine wish. I'll join you in it," she praised, eyes casting up to the moon.
"Although," Dimitri said, a jovial tone in his voice, "given the situation, perhaps I should wish to never be parted from your side."
Brynn's gaze snapped to his in a blink, so fast that he barely saw her move. He realized with a start that she didn't know he was joking and quickly clarified.
"It- I was joking. I'm sorry, Sylvain has had an undue influence on me. I make a fool of myself in front of my classmates as well- I did not mean to worry you."
Brynn's shoulders lowered as she relaxed, clearly wound up by his suggestion.
"You needn't apologize," she replied, slowly measuring her tone. "But perhaps do not make light of wishes in the name of the Goddess."
Dimitri felt admonished, but Brynn's tone wasn't reproachful. He didn't believe that she was upset about any blasphemy; she'd made it clear that she wasn't raised within the Church, but he had flustered her, and he felt guilty. They stood in silence together and listened to the sound of the ball below, Brynn once again becoming peaceful and still. Her fingers played with the brooch at her throat and drew his eyes. A loud part of Dimitri's conscious knew it was inappropriate to flirt with his instructor. All the same, she was practically his age- she'd admitted as much to him and the other students. In fact, Mercedes was older, but she still looked to Brynn as a mentor. Despite that, he couldn't stop himself from flattering her when he had the chance.
Dimitri felt emboldened by the late hour and her clear willingness to stay despite his blunder. He hadn't had the chance to dance with her at the ball, a result of his own lack of courage and the entourage of students hounding her for attention. They listened to the music gently waft through the night air, and an idea formed in his head. A very, very bad one.
Dimitri steeled his nerves and cleared his throat, drawing her attention. Her eyes, shining in the moonlight, nearly stole the words from his lips.
"May I ask you something else?" He said, breaking their easy silence. She nodded slowly, and he swallowed, extending his hand and bowing.
"If you are not so tired of dancing, would you care to give me the honor of one?"
Brynn's hand found her throat again, the gesture clearly a comfort, but she didn't turn him down. Instead, after a moment's thought, she placed her hand in his and stepped forward. Dimitri hoped she couldn't feel his pulse racing beneath his skin. He guided her gently out to the middle of the room, one hand grasping hers and the other settled on her waist. Her hips were soft, softer than he'd expected with the way she swung her lance in battle. Her hands, though, those were calloused like his own, and he committed the feeling of her skin against his to memory. Brynn squeezed his shoulder to steady herself as they fell into rhythm with the music, slow, sweeping notes guiding them in a waltz.
They danced wordlessly, her eyes closed as she finally seemed to hear the music, a smile slowly growing on her face. Dimitri couldn't take his eyes off her. When she finally opened her eyes, she looked at him beneath thick lashes and reddened.
"You're staring," she squeaked, then blinked in surprise at her own voice. "Oh, goddess. I'm flustered. I- oh, is this inappropriate?" She asked, but her protests quickly died as he swung her with the swell of the music.
"Is it terrible if I say I don't particularly care?" Dimitri replied, unsure of where his newfound confidence sprung.
Brynn bit her lip and shook her head, instead laughing as he spun her away, hair flying, and curled her back in close.
"Professor-" Dimitri began, but she cut him off with a tap on his shoulder.
"No, not professor. Brynn. I think I can make an exception to that rule tonight, just between us." she mused. "Call me Brynn, please?"
Dimitri swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. That was a line he wasn't sure he could cross, but the heat on her cheeks and the lack of space between them made it hard to say no. And oh, was she looking at him with those pleading eyes, the ones she used to get him to take tea despite his busy schedule.
"Very well," he acquiesced, and she beamed. "Brynn."
Her name tasted sweet in his mouth, but his heart raced at the rebellion associated with it. He rarely dared to utter it, the only times he did were under his breath when a blade found a gap in her defense.
Brynn seemed to relax in his arms at the sound of her name, and she spoke unprompted.
"I haven't been called by my name in so long. Only Father does, and even then, he's fond of the honorific 'professor.' I think he's proud of me," she explained.
Dimitri pondered her words for a moment. Of course she would feel strange in a new environment without the familiarity of her name. He hated being called 'highness,' despite his position as a prince. He just wanted friends.
"He should be. You are a wonderful woman capable of a great many things," Dimitri replied, earning a deep red flush across her face.
"You say such kind things to me," she murmured, unable to meet his eyes. "Do you really mean them?" She seemed pensive, a sudden change from her joy moments before.
Dimitri was taken aback. Had he not sounded sincere?
"Brynn, I mean every word. Anyone that thinks you are anything but wonderful is a fool, and you can tell them the crown prince of Faerghus stated so."
Brynn's lips parted as if to reply, but her words never came. Instead, she looked at him with a softness in her face that he'd never seen.
"Thank you, Dimitri," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. The sound of the music slowly died down, the song ending as their steps deteriorated from a proper waltz to a simple sway in each other's arms.
It was Brynn that finally stilled, and when she did, Dimitri's world came crashing back around him. He had danced with his professor. He was holding her hand. Holding her. Shit. He couldn't find the words to address the situation, but as if on cue, Brynn spoke.
"I think the music stopped," she said softly, making no move to step away from him, but she did remove her hand from his shoulder. He dropped his hand from her waist and nodded, still fumbling to speak.
"I suppose it would be selfish to keep you from the ball any longer," he sighed, and she snorted softly.
"Yes, very," she teased, and he smiled. She started to step back, but paused.
"Dimitri?"
"Yes, Brynn?" Her name still felt daring, but the way she looked at him when he used it made his discomfort disappear.
The distance between them was closed by a subtle shift in her stance, and she rested a hand on his chest as she quickly pressed her lips against his cheek. The touch was feather-light and gone as soon as he registered what was happening, but the blush on her face was evidence enough.
"Thank you for the best part of my evening," she said softly, finally stepping back. He missed her presence immediately. The place where her lips had touched his skin set him aflame, and he didn't doubt it showed on his face. Still, he had to maintain some semblance of composure.
"We should rejoin the rest of the group before they start making assumptions," she added, turning to walk away.
Dimitri chuckled, watching her hips sway as she walked towards the stairs.
"Right, I doubt whatever story Sylvain has made up is accurate, professor." he replied, following her down. They were back to professor for the night, perhaps, but there was guilty pleasure in knowing she trusted him with her name.
"Well," she mused, tossing an amused glance back to him, "Perhaps a little accurate."