It's finally here! The first chapter of "cut flowers always wilt"~
I'd like to thank Meowezio for all of her delightful art! She went above and beyond with her illustrations, please look forward to them~
Also, thank you to all the cozy sweaters, coffee, smooth jazz playlists and flowery scented candles that helped me get in the writing mood for this fic!
AO3 link! (Tumblr crossposts will be made on a later date)
@bluelionsbigbang
The petals were long gone, and the stem was little more than a sad little wooden thing.
Super excited to share my upcoming Blue Lions Big Bang fic!
Miss Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, heiress to the powerful Blaiddyd conglomerate, is enrolled at Garreg Mach Art Academy: a prestigious art school built on the same monastery where King Byleth had ruled over FĂłdlan after the War of Reunification. On the way to the Academy, she happens to meet an interesting woman who is named Byleth, and both of them share an instant connection. Surely, nothing stressful nor nerve-wracking will follow such a serendipitous meeting, right? :^)
"cut flowers always wilt" is a mystery/dark academia f/f dimileth AU. It will launch next Wednesday (25th of February, 2026).
Summary: After the final blow is given to the Immaculate One, Byleth collapses. The strange flutters of his heart are the proof of his impending death.
His time is limited.
Written for @dimilethfever's Trick or Treat event, 2025 edition!
Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH (Dimitri's a ghost, Byleth's on his way there) and ANGST. Just a bit, though.
Rating: Teens & Up
The moment the Immaculate Oneâs monstrous green blood oozed out, Byleth felt a sudden weakness that gripped him and pulled him into a scalding darkness. And from that scalding darkness came a sudden, nameless sensation, starting from somewhere deep inside him and filling him entire body with⊠something. Was this death? It had to be. What else could it be? This wasnât the feeling of the Divine Pulse, nor the sensation he got when he was struck by some kind of soon-to-be-fatal wound. This sensation was not the cold, slow encroaching touch of death he had felt glimpses of before. It was different and strange.
And then, the darkness gave way to red. Red flame, and red cloth. Amidst such a riot of crimson, Edelgard looked at him with relief in her eyes. She seemed to be serene, despite the heat of all of the fire around them. Byleth gasped, trying to take a relieving gulpful of air to breathe, even if only smoke filled his lungs.
âMy teacherâŠâ she smiled, and hugged him. âItâs over. Finally, itâs all overâŠâ
âMy chestâŠâ Byleth coughed, gripping Edelgardâs dress where his fingers could sink into. âS-something is wrong.â
âNothing is wrong,â Edelgard reassured him, her voice soft with a smile. âYouâre⊠youâre alive.â
Was this life? It didnât feel like it. This strange, heavy thing thrumming inside him felt like a clock ticking, winding down to an eventual stop. But unlike a clockâs steady rhythm, this thingâs rhythm was an erratic skip and crawl, too fast, too slow, for a moment just fine, only to run too fast, painfully fastâ
âI-itâs hurtsâŠâ Byleth cried. Pain had seldom brought a tear to his eyes, but now it was so blinding and absolute, he could only lie there and feel it irradiating from his chest. âMy chestâŠâ
The next thing he knew, he was lying in the war campâs sick bay. Manuela spoke to Edelgard, her voice muttering something incomprehensible to his ears. Byleth tried to say something, but instead he slipped back into the darkness.
Byleth was dying.
Edelgard had tried to soften the news by inviting him to tea, letting him eat all of her precious sugar butter cookies, and a long winding conversation about their year at the Academy before getting to the heart of the matter. Byleth wanted to appreciate it. But he couldn't help but feel that all of this was given to him because he was dying. If Byleth had been healthy, he knew he could have expected some hospitality from his former student, now friend. But Edelgard would never allow anyone to indulge for too long in neither sweets nor idleness when there were too many things to do, least of all herself.
âManuela says that the small magical implant delivers regular lightning magic pulses that could make your heart beat regularly,â Edelgard had said with a smile, as if she genuinely believed Byleth could eke out a long, meaningful life that way. âSo long as you donât exert yourself, you couldâŠâ
âThank you,â Byleth dunked one last sugar cookie into his tea and put it in his mouth. It tasted like sawdust. âIâm sorry. It looks like I canât help with Shambalaâs infiltration after all.â
âDonât worry: you helped us prepare the preliminary plan after they dropped that javelin on Arianrhod. Hubert and I can handle it. You stay here in Fhirdiad with Manuela and prepare for the surgery.â
Edelgard had probably meant that was a kind gesture to a sick and dying man. Byleth felt like a damaged old weapon being discarded. In his mind, he understood. If he had to make a similar choice, heâd recommend leaving the sick person behind so they wouldnât get in the way of the mission. Byleth was proud of his ex-student making the best tactical choice⊠even if being discarded hurt in ways he couldnât fully describe.
He wasnât foolish enough to try to resist her orders, nor insist on fighting until his dying breath. Byleth had lost all of the advantages he had used to win the war against the church. He had no Divine Pulse, his once masterful control over the strings of time had been cut off since the death of the Immaculate One. Trying to hold Sword of the Creator was an agony that made his fingers feel like they were about to melt. Edelgard had given him Rheaâsâ Seirosâs sword. The magic imbued on the blade offered some minor healing, enough for Byleth to dare to exert himself just a little to take care of any threats that came to him, but not enough for him to seek out Shambala and empty that ratâs nest. Not without guaranteeing his immediate demise afterwards.
Byleth knew that he was about as useful as a warhorse with a broken leg. But Edelgard was too kind to admit that yet.
That was whyâŠ
Byleth snuck out of the castle at Fhirdiad before the day of the surgery, wearing a modest rough-spun woolen cloak to conceal his face. He left the southern gate and walked, at a leisurely pace. Not hurried enough to catch anyoneâs attention. He was in no hurry to arrive anywhere. There was nowhere for him to go to, anyway. Byleth had just chosen to go out and meet his death, in whatever shape or form it took. He fully expected for people to notice his absence when they would try to get him for the surgery. Which meant he had until midday to put as much distance from Fhirdiad as possible. Running would have guaranteed that a search party sent out might not catch up with him. But his useless heart was already doing its irregular beating and fluttering with just a constant, gentle walk. Byleth kept his eyes on the ground. The only thing he had to focus on, was on taking one more step. And then another and then another.
âProfessor.â
Byleth stopped. A part of him knew getting caught was likely. But⊠that voice. He didnât expect to hear that voice ever again. When he rose his eyes, he saw him right in front of him. A tall figure with eyes that were as cold as the winter skies framed by long, golden hair.
âYouâre dead,â Byleth huffed, and tried to sidestep him to take one more step to continue his mindless walkâ when he realized that one step would have sent him down a ravine.
âSo would you be, had I not stopped you now,â the specter said. His feet were not touching the ground, or what should have been ground. He was floating just off the edge of the ravine. Looking at him with that same look he had in his eyes when he volunteered to be Jeraltâs pallbearer.
âYour kindness is wasted,â Byleth quipped, turning from the ravine and instead opting for another path to continue. âIâm already dying.â
âItâs your heart, isnât it?â The specter asked, keeping its pace next to him.
Byleth tried to sprint to shake him off. But after four hurried steps, his chest burned with exertion and he fell to his knees. The specter, however, remained at his side, looking down at him. Byleth gripped at the budding springtime grass, hating it for growing and thriving whilst he died. This grass beneath his fingers would have outlived him, had he not ripped it out of the ground and ended its nascent life.
A wordless cry escaped his throat, and tears tumbled out of his eyes. He didnât know what else he could say or do. This was just like with Jeraltâs death. When he was just a useless thing that could only cry and scream as the world around him spun and spun and threw him off-balance.
A sudden warm embrace enveloped him.
Byleth tried to push Dimitri off him, but his weakened body was no match for his preternatural, steady strength. He hit his chest, wishing that his fist somehow phased through his form. But instead it was met with an inherent resistance of his form.
âDonât do this,â Byleth begged. âYou know I donât deserve this.â
âYou do,â Dimitriâs breath on his ear felt as real and as warm as it would have been, had he truly been there.
âI killed you! I killed Dedueâ!â
âYou killed him before he used that crest stone,â Dimitri said. âAfter the battle, you called a Duscur soothsayer to cover his eyes and sent for his ashes to be spread on the flower fields of his home.â
âBut he deserved to live,â Byleth shook his head. âYou deserved to liveââ
âYou tried four times to use the Goddessâs power to avert his fate.â
âYou shouldnât know that! You canât know that!â Byleth screamed, his voice straining from the effort. âI was just being selfish. I couldnât bear the guilt of what I forced him to doâŠ!â
âDedue chose that, Professor,â Dimitri said, as steadfast as ever. âHe is at peace now.â
âThen what about you? Why are you haunting me now? Are you at peace?â
âI made a vow to youââ
âTo be âtogether foreverâ?â Byleth felt his cheeks burn with rage. His stupid flesh pump erratically thumped in his chest as he remembered the humiliation of that encounter. Byleth had always found Dimitri to be mildly pleasant, the way one finds a small piece of bread to dip in soup pleasant. Byleth enjoyed giving lessons to the orphans of the monastery alongside him. He was always studious and serious, so when he invited him to the Goddess Tower, that made Byleth feel... happy? Nervous? Excited? It didn't matter. Whatever Byleth had imagined between them during those minutes between being invited and getting to the top of the tower had just been in his head.
âI thought I'd regret my cowardice back then until the day I died,â Dimitri pulled back from his hug. He was crying. "But it turns out, I regret it even now in death. But no, that's not the vow I'm referring to...â
Dimitri looked just like he did when he begged Byleth to abandon Edelgard and her cause. Back then, he had been tempted. But he was smarter than to accept the honeyed lies of the enemy. Now that the war was won, why would Dimitri lie to him again? Why spend his afterlife keeping him company? Why make such a needless vow? He should've just let him walk off the cliff. Byleth had already died falling of a cliff. To die again like that would have been fitting.
âI vowed, for five years, that if you ever managed to return...â Dimitri caressed his face. âThat I would stay by your side when your time came.â
âWhy would you do that?â Byleth gaped at him with disbelief. âIâmâyouâ we were nothing, Dimitri.â But when he said that, it felt like a lie. What lingered between them was too much to not be something. Whether that was kinship, or rivalry orâ
âWhen I first took that vow, I had meant it in the sense that either weâd live together until old age or that Iâd be the one to claim your life,â Dimitri smiled. âWhen my head was severed from my shoulders, I had hoped that I wouldnât see you again for many years... But without the Crest Stone inside you, your heart wonât last long like this.â
âCrest Stone?â Byleth felt his heart pitter patter with dread. âThatâs impossibleâŠ! If I had a Crest Stone inside me, I would have turned into a Demonic Beast years ago.â
âIt will all make sense after you pass,â Dimitri rested his forehead against his. âDon't worry about it. For now, Iâm here for you.â
And now that the finality of it all struck Byleth, he felt his entire being tremble with tears. He raged and cried and screamed, until he was too tired to do any of that anymore.
Dimitri remained steadfast at his side through it all. Always firm, but gentle.
âI thought I was ready to die when I left Fhirdiad. But Iâm not⊠Iâm scared.â Byleth confessed.
âThatâs normal. But thereâs nothing to fear. Death can be⊠very gentle.â
âGentle? How?â
âLike falling asleep in a field of flowers. Like being hugged by a loved one,â Dimitriâs hand took his. And squeezed. âLike reuniting with all those that you thought gone.â
âLike⊠you?â Byleth dared to ask.
âLike you,â Dimitri smiled. âAre you ready?â
When Byleth nodded, Dimitri gently helped him stand up. All of his fatigue seemingly vanished in the instant Byleth left behind his sluggish, sickly body.
tell me your ideal but super simple dimileth scenario lol (as in, what if they X), in an AU setting
Oooh that's a good queston! Maybe a "what if they are academic rivals" in some kind of university professor AU.
Maybe they have many back and forth academic journals that are SUPER passive-aggressive and spicy like "unlike what Blaiddyd, et al. (20xx) proposed..." or "Eisner (20xx) proposed x, but our findings seem to indicate y." Maybe they furiously make out at a conference/summit thingie. Maybe they (un)ironically call each other "Dr Blaiddyd/Dr Eisner" in bed. Lots of fun, rivals-to-lovers potential!
Dimitri: I am a monster... she is a wonderful person and she deserves so much better ... she most likely will despise me if she finds out...
Byleth if Dimitri DID turn into a monster: That's a very nice bear you caught with your bare hands, my dearest, and it is very smart of you to eat it raw, saves us the trouble of starting a fire. I received Mercedes' help to knit you a sweater in case you get cold running around in that loincloth of yours. Is the sun hurting your eye? I'll kill it if it's bothering you. I'll kill the sun.
Ooh, sorry for taking so long to respond! Here's a little drabble as compensation. It's female byleth/dimitri, since those are the pronouns you used in the ask.
Dimitri knew that most of the hardships he had experienced were simply a byproduct of his true nature. All monsters were doomed to be abandoned, hated, and feared. Ending up alone was simply in his nature.
But when she looked at him, her eyes showed no disgust. On the contrary, she looked at him with⊠pity? He didn't know. Nobody had ever seen him like that. Not until now.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.
"Because I love you," she answered.
Love? How could someone like him ever be loved? Surely, she must be mistaken.
"No, I know what I feel," she shook her head. And then, she confessed in a quiet voice: "I would kill the sun for you."
And he knew, that she had the power to do just that.
Hopesmitri, who just got to Askr: ... and then after the mission... the ashen demon kissed my cheek and pulled me into her lap.
Hopes Sylvain, who also just got there: That was 1 hour ago... why are you still in her lap...?
Brave Byleth, still holding him: đđ
Hopesmitri is still sitting on her lap not just because Brave Byleth is holding him, but because the Sothis Regalia has some risque cut-outs down the front that he's covering by sitting on her lap and he doesn't want to accidentally expose her. Especially in front of Sylvain! He's being a gentleman!
But the Sothis Regalia does look very good on her...
Hopesmitri, clearly self-aware: I am not smiling like an idiot gazing at miss Eisner!! What do you even mean by that? I do not daydream about us getting married on a Pegasus Moon day while she wears a blue dress or about building a family with 5 children whose names I most definitely have not chosen yet!! You are just saying nonsense Sylvain.
Dimitri found out that Byleth has never received any flowers. He goes out to the meadow to pick flowers. His crest activates. The flowers are made into smush. He wants to cry. Dedue suggests Dimitri make a flower-based lip balm.
When he offers the lip balm to Byleth, she puts it on. The sight of her lips is............. something that he thinks about. Maybe even daydreams about. Maybe even thinks about their wedding, her dress, their children.
But he'd never confess that to Sylvain. He'd never live it down.
Hopes Felix mumbling about a disgusting boar being a supreme annoyance to the staff and itâs just the king of Faerghus giggling, blushing and kicking his feet while talking to a fish eyed mercenary.
Hopes Sylvain, watching other nobles raging about Dimitri paying attention to a commoner: Please Sothis let this happen because it would be so fucking funny.
Rest easy, Sylvain. Sothis has the best sense of humor and will make it happen.
I can see how the camp gossips might escalate rumors based on the smallest of things. The king smiling at Byleth on the queue at the mess hall? Forbidden relationship! Byleth knocking him on his butt during training? Lover's spat! Byleth cleaning a bloody overcoat by the river? Disposal of the evidence of their forbidden love affair! Felix complaining about Dimitri being a disgusting boar? Dimitri must have asked his shield to help him formalize his concubinage to Byleth!
I mean. They're not wrong, but they were ahead of their times.
