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Ferdinand stood in the center of the crumbling cathedral, feet among piles of rubble and shattered stained glass. Before him, the altar stood, though stripped of its pride. Once, he could feel the eyes of the goddess on him here – but now the space felt empty, nothing but crumbling rock and the dust in the air. Lean moonlight filtered in through the windows, catching on the glass on the ground and sparkling like prayer.
It had become somewhat of a ritual for him these days. When the Duke Aegir couldn’t sleep, he simply snuck out of his bedroom and crept to the cathedral to challenge the goddess to a staring match.
He came more often now. He always won their little game.
For the first time in months, footsteps approached before Ferdinand could turn to leave.
“Hubert,” he greeted, not looking. “You are probably the last person I expected to run into here.”
Behind him, the Minister hummed.
“I’ve never been much for organized religion,” Hubert dryly offered.
Ferdinand gave a small chuckle, despite himself.
He wondered how the goddess felt to see her world at war. Did she weep for the dead? Had she seen the blood on the Empire’s hands, cursed them for it? Or would she, too, have condemned the corruption of the institution meant for salvation?
Either way, he was certain her heart was as broken as the glass he stood in.
“Do you think she hates us, Hubert?” Ferdinand asked suddenly. “I suppose she must.”
Finally the other man reached his side, and from the corner of his eye, Ferdinand saw Hubert’s cloak drawn tight around him. Yes, he supposed it was cold.
“I’m afraid I can’t say,” he replied. “I’ve never counted myself among the faithful.”
Ferdinand’s hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his exposed ears stung in the chill. He made no move to warm them. Instead his foot nudged a loose brick.
“You are, aren’t you?”
“I’m… what?” Ferdinand frowned, finally turning to look at Hubert. His companion’s gaze was on the unkempt statue before them, but there was a look in his eyes Ferdinand hadn’t seen before. The air between them felt stiff.
“Religious. I seem to recall you praying rather often, back in our school days.”
It was unlike Hubert to ask Ferdinand about himself. Perhaps the solemn feeling of standing in the church you razed could do that to a man.
“Used to be.”
That was a lie. He still carried his prayer beads into battle, stuffed away in his breast pocket. Out of sight, and he wished out of mind.
“That was a lie. I’m sorry.” The dust was lining his throat, making it hard to swallow. “I still am. After everything I’ve done, I...”
Ferdinand took a step away, hand running along the back of a nearby pew. Had he not had gloves, he would have gotten several splinters.
What audacity to still claim piety. The words tasted metallic.
“I must admit I don’t know much about the Church’s teachings,” Hubert said quietly. The tone was foreign for him to take. “But I know that any goddess who loved her creation would not want to see the people live like this.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “At war? Thank you, Hubert, you’ve comforted me greatly- “
“No,” the mage snapped, clearly annoyed. “Ruled by blood. In fear of the Crests she made. A mother who truly loves her children doesn’t rule with iron fists.”
“Well. Someone should tell Edelgard.”
Hubert’s laugh was still unfamiliar. Ferdinand cherished it, even if he didn’t understand. For his friend (and still so new, just a month ago they were at each other’s throats) to be open was unusual. The Hubert he had grown up with was a shadow, tied to the dark of the world and closed off to the rest. Not that he was unfeeling – he just didn’t express much.
Ferdinand must have looked rather miserable for Hubert to offer any sort of comfort. Or perhaps he was being too harsh. The mage, in truth, was one of the better people in his life.
“The professor… he carries the crest of Nemesis, doesn’t he? I suppose that’s poetic, in a sick sort of way.”
A snake of a smile took Hubert’s features.
“It is a rather cruel irony, isn’t it?”
He took several steps forward, now close enough to touch Ferdinand. The redhead stiffened at the closeness. It was still incredibly unusual, as was the heat that ran to his cheeks.
Hubert’s gloved hand ghosted over his, gently enough to be dismissed as an accident. Ferdinand knew it wasn’t one. He didn’t say anything.
Silently, Ferdinand reached into his back pocket and withdrew the prayer necklace. He let it slide from his palm into Hubert’s.
Hubert studied it, clearly thinking. His fingers curled over the beads, wood disappearing under worn leather.
“You aren’t a heretic, Ferdinand,” he spoke finally. “Rhea is. The society of Fodlan is. And they will pay.”
“That’s hubris- “
“It’s the truth. Look me in the eye- hey.” Hubert’s free hand grasped Ferdinand’s chin, jerking the shorter man to meet his gaze. His cheeks flushed crimson.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me the goddess would want the world we live in now. Say it, and mean it, and I won’t speak of this again.”
Hubert’s gaze was terrifying, as was the steel determination behind them. But damn it all, he was right. The Central Church defied everything they claimed to stand for. How many psalms had he read on punishing those who turn from grace? Wasn’t it his duty, as a noble, to make a better life for the ones who ruled over?
“I can’t.”
Hubert released him, and Ferdinand almost missed the touch.
The mage held up the beads in his palm like a toast before slipping them into his pocket.
“You aren’t going to hex me with those, are you?”
Hubert snorted.
“Hardly.”
“Much appreciated, friend.” Ferdinand idly picked at a piece of wood peeling from the old pew. “…As was indulging in speaking of the goddess for me. I know you don’t care for it.”
He expected to receive a half-chewed reply about how a distracted Ferdinand was poorly suited to serve Edelgard, but instead Hubert was silent. Mulling something over, if his countenance was to be believed. Likely thinking about how pitiful Ferdinand was, drowning in moonlight and heresy.
Hubert’s gaze met his again, and there was something unfamiliar living in them. He could see right through Ferdinand, couldn’t he? Every piece of him. Everything.
He wondered what Hubert thought of the quick beating of his heart.
“You should get some sleep. We’re riding for Arianrhod in the morning.”
Hubert turned on his heel and was halfway down the aisle to exit when he hesitated.
“If you need… it’s not healthy to linger in this place,” he said solemnly. “My door is there, instead. Consider it.”
And before Ferdinand could express his utter shock, he was alone again.
Perhaps the goddess had won their little game tonight.