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Dedue’s shop was small and simple, and he liked it that way. He didn’t have a huge amount of customers, but he had enough to get by, which was good enough for him. His shop even had a straightforward name: The Flower of Duscur. Of course, he sold more than just flowers from Duscur. He sold flowers that grew natively here in Fódlan, as well as candies and magazines right by the register. The candies and magazines were actually some of his best sellers, along with red roses. He had one customer, Lorenz, who came by every morning to buy a red rose to wear in his lapel.
Dedue didn’t mind any of this. As long as he got to spend his days surrounded by flowers, that was enough. He also counted himself lucky that most of his orders were taken online nowadays, so he didn’t have to interact with customers as often as some busier shops. Instead he could spend his hours crafting bouquets and only had to briefly hand them off to the customer when they arrived for pickup. Dedue liked people, but he wasn’t much of a talker.
Rainy days were secretly Dedue’s favorite. There was low foot traffic to his store, so he got to keep to himself and listen to the rain tapping against the roof. It was on one such rainy day that two soaking wet men dashed into his shop, nearly knocking over a display as they did so.
“Welcome in,” Dedue said, though he was paying more attention to the dangerously teetering vases on his front table than he was to his new customers.
The men, for their part, didn’t seem to hear Dedue’s greeting at all.
“Fine day for a walk indeed!” grumbled the older man.
“I am truly sorry for dragging you along, Gustave,” said the younger. “But I did say you could stay behind if you wished.”
“As if I could let you go out alone.”
“And now we’re on an adventure!” the young man continued, ignoring his companion's gripe. “See, we’ve stumbled upon this little flower shop that we never would have known about otherwise.”
He looked around Dedue’s age, with long blonde hair that he’d pulled into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. The man was soaked, leaving his bangs clinging to his face. He took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack Dedue kept by the door. His button up shirt was soaked as well and it stuck to his body in a way that bordered on indecent. He looked up and caught Dedue’s gaze. His eyes were a striking cornflower blue.
Dedue’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t in the business of flirting with customers. In fact, he wasn’t sure he knew how to flirt with anyone. But as a florist, he made a life out of appreciating beautiful things. And this man was beautiful. Familiar, too, in a way that Dedue couldn’t place.
He smiled at Dedue. “Hello! I’m sorry, I think we’re dripping onto your floor.”
“I’ll see if I have some towels.” Dedue rushed into his back room, straight to the cabinet where he kept his aprons and mops and -- yes -- towels. Once they were in hand Dedue took an extra moment to take a deep breath before returning out to the front of the store. It did little to calm him.
“Here.” Dedue handed each man a towel. His traitorous mind noted that his fingers brushed the younger man’s hand as he took the towel from him.
“Thank you,” the older man -- Gustave -- said as he took his towel and started drying himself off.
“Yes, thank you so much,” the younger man added. “I hope you don’t mind us taking refuge from the storm inside your shop. We won’t be freeloaders! We’ll buy something, I promise.”
Dedue was thankful for that, but found himself saying, “You’re welcome to stay either way.”
“Nonsense. We’ll buy something.” He turned to his companion. “Gustave, don’t you think your wife would like some flowers? Get a bouquet for Annette, too. I’ll pay.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Gustave said.
“I’d like to,” the young man replied. “You can tell them the flowers are from me if it makes you feel better.”
Gustave frowned. “I’d prefer my daughter not get flowers signed with your name. You’ll give her ideas.”
“Rest assured that your daughter, though lovely, is not my type.”
Dedue couldn’t help but wonder what his type was, if it wasn’t lovely women.
“I’ll pick out something for my own family, thank you very much,” Gustave huffed.
“And maybe I should get something for Edelgard,” he said to Gustave, then turned back to Dedue and explained, “My stepsister.”
Edelgard… Dedue had heard that name somewhere before. Was it common here in Fódlan?
Gustave wandered off to look for flowers his wife and daughter would like, but Dimitri stuck by Dedue’s side.
“So, Dedue, you’re the expert here. Would you help me pick out a bouquet?”
Dedue was momentarily taken aback that this stranger knew his name. Then he remembered he was wearing a nametag.
The man must have noticed Dedue’s surprise. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Dimitri.”
“I’m Dedue,” said Dedue, momentarily forgetting that Dimitri already knew his name.
Dimitri only smiled. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Dimitri held out his hand and Dedue shook it. The warmth of his palm sent electricity down Dedue’s spine, and he took his hand back before he could allow himself to revel in the feeling. He had to keep this professional.
“What sort of flowers does your step-sister like?” Dedue asked.
A painfully blank expression fell across Dimitri’s face. “Red ones? I think she likes the color red. She wears it a lot.”
“Then a bouquet of roses, perhaps?”
Dimitri wrinkled his nose. “A bit too romantic for one’s sister, don’t you think?”
“Red chrysanthemums, then. They symbolize optimism, joy, and longevity,” Dedue said. “I can make you a bouquet accented with red yarrow, for health and protection.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Dimitri’s cornflower eyes bore into him. He looked awestruck that Dedue had known these basic flower facts. “I’ll take it.”
Dedue made his way through the shop, picking out the flowers he needed. Dimitri trailed behind him like a slightly soggy golden retriever, towel still draped across his broad shoulders. When they returned back to the counter, Dedue got started on the arrangement. Dimitri watched him eagerly. Then his eyes caught on the magazine rack and he frowned.
“Something wrong?” asked Dedue.
“No! Not at all!” Dimitri responded, just a tad too loudly and just a tad too quickly. But Dedue let it drop. It wasn’t his business anyway.
Dimitri’s gaze left the offending magazine rack and returned to watching Dedue’s hands as they gently slid flowers into place, rotating them this way and that until they looked most appealing, careful not to bend or smash any petals in the process.
“You are quite skilled at that.”
“It’s only a two flower bouquet. Nothing too complicated.”
“Still, it’s delicate work and your hands are…” Dimitri trailed off.
“What?”
Dedue looked up from his work to see that a light blush was dusting Dimitri’s cheeks.
“Nevermind.” Dimitri cleared his throat and managed to get his blush to diminish somewhat. “I was just thinking that I could never do something like that. I’m too clumsy. I’d break the stems or something.”
“Just don’t break anything in my shop.”
Dimitri chuckled, rich and deep. “I can’t promise you that. But I do vow to buy anything I break.”
“Sounds fair to me.”
As Dedue finished up the bouquet, Dimitri’s eye wandered from Dedue’s hands up to his face. His gaze felt as intense and demanding as a physical touch. “What’s your favorite flower?”
Dedue was used to this question. Florists were asked it a lot. That’s why he kept a display of his favorites on hand, right behind his counter.
“I like these the best,” Dedue said, gesturing to the deep blue flowers behind him. “They’re Duscur irises. Their petals are more robust and velvety than the irises that grow in Fódlan.”
Dimitri considered them. “They’re a symbol of royalty, aren’t they?”
“Maybe Fódlan irises are,” Dedue responded. “In Duscur, our irises represent hope.”
“I think I like that better than Fódlan’s meaning. I’ll take one.”
Dedue went to grab a Duscur iris for him. When he turned back around Dimitri was staring straight into Dedue’s eyes. Dedue couldn’t look away. He felt hypnotized by it.
“Say, your store is called The Flower of Duscur, is it not?” Dimitri asked innocently.
“It is,” Dedue replied.
“Then tell me, does the flower in the title refer to the iris or to you?”
Dedue was dumbstruck. At first he didn’t understand what Dimitri was asking. Then, as realization dawned on him, heat began to bloom behind his cheeks.
Was he being flirted with?
Dimitri’s own face was quickly turning quite an extraordinary shade of red.
“I’m sorry. That was too forward of me. I shouldn’t have- Here, let me pay for the bouquets.” Dimitri hurriedly pulled a wallet out of his pocket and slammed onto the counter an amount of money worth over twice what he owed. “That should cover whatever flowers Gustave picked out, too. And take this.”
Dimitri fished around in his pocket and pulled out a business card.
“That’s my personal number. I’m not supposed to give it out much, but you can call it if you like.” Dimitri blurted out this last bit at a rapid fire pace and then turned on his heels, face blazing. “Gustave, are you ready? I’m ready to go.”
“But, Your Highness, it’s still raining!”
Regardless of the warning, Dimitri all but ran out the door and into the downpour and-
Wait.
Your Highness?
Dedue looked down at the business card that had been thrust into his hand. On one side was a phone number. The other side simply read the name Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. Blaiddyd was a name Dedue recognized. Blaiddyd was the name of the royal family of Faerghus. That would make his stepsister, Edelgard, the crown princess of the Adrestian Empire. And the man who had accompanied Dimitri, was that his bodyguard? Dedue looked at the magazine rack which Dimitri had scowled at and saw dozens of photographs of the prince staring back at him from underneath a salacious headline.
The crown prince of Faerghus had been in his shop. He had been speaking with the crown prince of Faerghus without even knowing it. The crown prince of Faerghus had shockingly blue eyes.
And Dedue had his phone number.
The bell above the shop door rang. Dedue looked up to see a soaked Dimitri filling his doorframe yet again.
“I forgot my flowers,” Dimitri announced simply. “And my coat.”