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It was Mercedes’ idea.
Byleth had been in Garreg Mach for three days, listless at having parted with her husband so soon after the wedding, when Mercedes found her wandering by the courtyard just after breakfast.
“Your Grace?” Mercedes looked around before calling her attention again. “Byleth?”
The new archbishop looked up from wringing her hands and let out a sigh.
Walking towards a nearby bench, she motioned for Mercedes to join her.
“I… miss him,” she said softly after Mercedes has settled beside her. “I promised him I’d write every day,” she paused, unsure how to elaborate.
Thankfully, Mercedes seemed to know what she was thinking– almost all of her Blue Lions do.
“Are you familiar with the language of the flowers?” she asked with a crinkle of her eyes. Byleth may have been the professor between them, but through every technicality, Mercedes is the big sister who always has something new to teach her.
She shook her head softly, and Mercedes squeezed her hand in reassurance.
“It used to be a popular way of communicating, but I think a lot of people find it old-fashioned these days,” she explained. “Perhaps… this could be an easier way for you to tell him how you feel?”
A small stab of guilt rushed through her. Everyone knew how much she had difficulty expressing herself, most of all Dimitri, and she wanted to make it easier on him. Using flowers to avoid putting her thoughts into words seemed like cheating, but it was certainly a welcome idea.
As usual, Mercedes sensed the conflict within her. “I don’t think you have to worry. He knows your heart, as you do his. That should be enough.”
“Yes. Thank you,” she agreed with a tilt of her head. “Although… I don’t know where to start,” she confessed.
Mercedes giggled. “That’s why I’m here!” She tugged the archbishop to stand, leading her to the greenhouse. “Let’s see if Ashe is there too!”
The first owl from Garreg Mach arrived four days after Byleth’s departure. Dimitri was starting to worry, but something told him she wasn’t in danger. She was thinking about the best way to go about their arrangement, as she always does. The king of Fodlan shook his head, letting out a small laugh. How very like his wife to take a small promise as seriously as she does a decisive battle.
When he opened the slip of paper, two dried blooms fell to his hand: a pink camellia and a sprig of blue forget-me-nots.
For my king, my love, my life , Dimitri read.
His lips curled. Of course Byleth would find a unique way to tell him of her feelings. He knew how guilty she felt that she wasn’t opening up as well as she liked, but he was in no rush. They have eternity to spend after all. Time was theirs to use as they wished.
He didn’t have a wide knowledge of floriography– up until he met Byleth, he didn’t like flowers because he was afraid of crushing them and destroying their beauty. The blue flowers were easy enough to decode—as if he could ever forget her—but he needed a friend’s help to decipher the camellia.
Walking out of the balcony, he found Dedue waiting for him outside his room.
“My friend,” he greeted warmly. “It would be safe for me to assume that you know the language of flowers, would it not?”
Dedue tilted his head in question, but answered in the affirmative. “Yes, Your Majesty. My sister… she taught me floriography when we were children.”
“That is wonderful news,” Dimitri said, his face breaking out in a smile. “Then… would you be able to tell me what this means?” He held out the pink flower.
His retainer’s eyes softened at the sight. “This is from Her Grace?” he asked; Dimitri nodded eagerly.
“Pink camellias mean longing, Your Majesty,” Dedue said.
“I see.” Dimitri fought to hide his blush at his wife’s message. I long for you and I hope you don’t forget me. “Would you be so kind to help me pick out flowers to send Byleth?”
“You don’t have to ask… Dimitri.”
Dedue smiled and started walking down the hall, eager to get to the garden. His thoughts drifted to Byleth’s companions at the monastery, and wondered if the flowers’ message was meant for him too.
The day was just about to end when Ashe knocked at her door, excitedly waving the folded paper at her. Beside him, Mercedes was tightly clutching his shirt, the anticipation also obvious in her eyes.
Byleth let out a small laugh before opening the letter.
My beloved–you will always have my heart.
She looked at the white flowers with longing. Ivy for fidelity, chrysanthemum for truth, lily for sweetness.
My loyalty to you is the sweetest truth.
Byleth swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked up at her friends, who were also fighting to hold back their tears.
She turned to get her cloak. “Do you think it’s too late to go to the greenhouse?”
Ashe and Mercedes laughed.
“Your Grace… this is your monastery now. You can do whatever you like,” Ashe said.
Byleth also laughed at herself, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. “Of course! Well then, I will need more of your help, my friends.”
After a particularly long-winded and exhausting meeting with former Alliance nobles, Dimitri found Dedue by the hall with a fresh letter in hand.
Have strength, dear heart.
He clutched the flowers to his heart: chamomile for patience, edelweiss for courage, cloves for dignity, cedar for strength.
After a few deep breaths, he stood tall, ready for another round of meetings and negotiations.
Three moons passed as they exhausted flowers to send, and even with so few words between them, their hearts swelled with more love with every exchanged bloom.
Dimitri sent calla lilies to remind Byleth of her magnificent beauty, sunflowers of his adoration, and orange blossoms of his eternal love.
Byleth happily gave Dimitri pink roses to remind him of the gentleness in his heart, freesia of her trust, and bluebells of her constant love.
Their friends also added their own flowers, constantly sending pressed white clovers back and forth. (Think of me.)
There was happiness with every owl that carried a new message, but there was emptiness too. Longing was not a new feeling for them, but the nights steadily grew colder, the days even longer with every moment they were apart.
Byleth was nursing a headache in her room, absentmindedly running her hands over the dried flowers on her desk, when an owl pecked on her window.
She stepped up to let it in, affectionately stroking its forehead and the blue and gold ribbon around its foot.
She was surprised to see the flaming red flower inside: she knows he still hasn’t received the last note she sent.
Feeling her headache ebb away, she pocketed the red camellia and turned to start packing her things for the journey home.
Dimitri saw the owl flying towards his window just a day after he sent out his own. Coaxing the pure white bird into his study, he unfurled the paper from its leg.
His heart skipped a beat at the red camellia.
You are a flame in my heart.
He hurried out of the room to make preparations for his wife’s return.
Byleth’s pegasus landed in front of Dimitri’s quarters three days later, and they shared a laugh as they both presented their flowers for each other– the last they would exchange for a long while.
She recalled Mercedes’ statement from three moons ago: he knows your heart, as you do his.
Red roses.
I love you.