Chapter Text
Dearest Dorothea,
I apologize for the lapse in response. Things in Enbarr are quite frantic with the war’s one-year anniversary approaching. We all understand why you are not here, of course, but I miss you more and more with each passing day. Brigid is lucky, to have a jewel such as yourself living in their midst.
What else shall I tell you? Edelgard and Byleth continue to be the happiest married couple to ever grace this earth. Edelgard is a just emperor, and her rule is all the stronger for Byleth’s presence at her side. I can hear you asking already - Hubert and I have no plans for matrimony at the moment, and I promise that you will be the first person I tell should anything change.
Speaking of, how is our dear Petra doing? Every piece of news we hear from Brigid seems cause for rejoice - it truly is entering a golden age under Petra’s rule. I know you and her have grown even closer as of late: you will keep me updated on that front, yes? I am well aware that it has been some months since we’ve seen each other in person, but you are one of my dearest friends and I expect to be kept up to date on your personal life.
It seems that I write to you too often; I feel I will soon run out of things to say, and yet I have scarcely written a thing! If only I was able to space out my letters to you more but, alas, we both know that will not be the case. I simply cannot help myself.
Renaltia is well! I am still trying to convince Hubert to warm up to her, although I fear my efforts may be in vain. They tolerate each other just fine, but she bit him the other day and he has still not forgiven her. Pathetic, no? One of the most feared men in the empire, capable of all sorts of terrible things in the name of Lady Edelgard, and yet a horse nips him and he cannot overcome it. He is fortunate that I still love him, despite his inability to make nice with my lady.
I will write you again after the celebrations for the end of the war. I am not certain precisely who will attend: Edelgard has talked Bernadetta into visiting, but there is not yet any word from Linhardt or Caspar. If they do happen to show, it will doubtlessly be a late and dramatic entrance.
Hubert and I have been discussing a holiday, although not a long one, and likely wrapped up in a diplomatic mission. Let me rephrase: Edelgard and I think that it would be good for Hubert to get away for a bit and we believe a diplomatic mission to Brigid might be a more than adequate chance for that. I would not mind a brief respite either, I must admit. I do not know how you are faring but it is… difficult, to think that this time last year we were still trapped in the midst of the war. I know it weighed heavily on you, and lately I have not been able to stop thinking about it. I think I will have nightmares about it for the rest of my life, but at the very least we all made it out alive. I wish the same were true of our former friends from other houses.
I digress, I did not mean to turn so morose. It is hard, this time of year. I know you understand. I should be going, although we both know I would much rather sit here and write you a much longer letter than I am capable of. Let me know if Petra would be amiable to Hubert and I visiting for a diplomatic venture.
Yours as always,
Ferdinand von Aegir
Ferdinand sets down his quill just as the door opens, although he doesn’t bother lifting his head. He would recognize Hubert’s footsteps anywhere, and especially here, in their shared quarters. It had seemed foolish, to share a room immediately after this thing between them had truly started to blossom, but in the weeks after the war, Ferdinand was grateful for it. They all had nightmares now, and even if he still is not privy to the details of Hubert’s, he has grown familiar with the weight of Hubert’s head on his chest after a particularly trying night. They are all recovering as best they can.
Hubert closes the door behind him with a click, then strides over to where Ferdinand sits. He stops behind Ferdinand and leans down, kissing the top of his head. Ferdinand smiles; no matter how frequently Hubert remains sweet and gentle in his affections, he does not think he will ever truly get used to it.
“You are back early,” Ferdinand says.
The bags under Hubert’s eyes are more pronounced than usual, but that is not unusual after a night’s work. Destroying Those Who Slither in the Dark is rotten and tiresome work, but there is no one else Hubert would trust with such things. The war has been over for almost a year, and soon Hubert and Edelgard’s will draw to a close as well. There is much that he can not - or will not - tell Ferdinand of his missions, but Ferdinand knows they wear on him. After the war first ended, Hubert was gone almost nightly, but his outings have become fewer the more time has passed. He knows that he and Edelgard have almost done what it is they set out to, and that afterwards Edelgard’s reforms can begin in earnest.
Hubert presses his face into the crown of his head, “Are you complaining? I can leave if you wish.”
Ferdinand smiles, “It is not like you to seek out compliments so obviously. You know very well I do not wish you to leave.”
“I suppose I do,” Hubert says, looking down at him. There is no expression on his face, something that Ferdinand finally understands is what contentment looks like on Hubert. “What were you working on?”
“I was writing to Dorothea,” he replies, “updates about the upcoming anniversary, and she insists that I send her every piece of gossip I hear.”
“Anything worth noting?” Hubert asks.
Ferdinand shrugs, “No, not particularly. Come sit, I missed you.” He threads his fingers through Hubert’s, then tugs, pulling him sideways onto his lap. Hubert scowls, but his grip on Ferdinand’s hand tightens, and he goes where he is wanted without complaint.
Hubert is very still, and Ferdinand bites back the urge to laugh. For all that they have been intimate together, Hubert is still so odd about affection for affection’s sake. He always seems to think that Ferdinand will change his mind and no longer wish to touch him, as if Ferdinand would rather be doing anything other than exactly that. A long moment passes, and then Hubert rests his head on Ferdinand’s shoulder, his face pressed into the junction of his neck and shoulder.
" Dorothea is convinced we will be married any day now,” Ferdinand says.
Hubert laughs, his breath warm on Ferdinand’s skin, “As if you would propose without telling her beforehand.”
“Oh, I am the one who must propose?” Ferdinand says, trying to sound affronted. He is disgustingly fond of this man, truly.
“It seems only fair,” Hubert says stiffly, “I kissed you first.”
Ferdinand presses his face into the top of Hubert’s head to swallow his laughter, “Yes, I suppose you did.” He lets the silence settle over them, comfortable like a blanket, and basks in the safety of their room. “Would you say yes?” He says, after some time has passed. He should feel more nervous, but instead all he feels is loved.
Hubert twists to look up at him, “I believe I would.”
Ferdinand smiles and leans down to kiss Hubert, soft and gentle. “I will take that under advisement,” he says, and kisses him once more.